Disclaimer: Marvel's, not mine.

I should probably clarify something. This isn't really a mushy love story. Sometimes love is sick, sometimes it's pure, sometimes it's both. Rogue and Remy were designed to make you believe in the idea of a soulmate. And sometimes, well, that's just a dangerous notion. This is a story of hope though. It's amazing what people can survive.

Thanks to my reviewers! And sorry for the delay on the posting of this chapter…

……………………………….

Her hair was wet and matted against her skin with sweat. Remy carried her in his arms, his bare chest covered with her blood.

He walked barefoot along the sidewalk, and he wasn't sure how fast or slow he was moving. And then Jean was by his side, her telekinesis removing Rogue from his arms.

Remy looked up at the brick building. Betsy and Jean were already inside. The blood was rushing down to his toes, and he let it fall heavy back down.

His hair fell before his eyes, and he walked forward. One step. Two.

"Rogue's in good hands Remy."

Remy looked up to see Betsy, calm, arms crossed in front of him.

"And we have plenty of time to hear your story."

Remy looked hazily around the room.

"Where's dat red head?"

"Jean is with Dr. McCoy."

Remy slumped over to a nearby couch and collapsed. The only thing making him tired was Rogue's blood. Everywhere. All over his body.

Remy looked out from behind a tired hand, peaking through his spread fingers in annoyance. Betsy was watching him, waiting.

"Rogue's a girl I loved and lost. End o'story."

"Uh-huh," Betsy said, taking a step forward. "And that group of mutants who attacked us? They have no story?"

"Not dat you would understand petit," Remy snapped, dropping his hand to his side.

"Try me Remy. I'm a telepath," Betsy slinked over to the couch and sat on the arm, "I've listened to people's darkest secrets."

"Look," Remy seethed quietly, red eyes piercing dangerously. "The second I find out Rogue's okay, I'm leaving. Dat group o'mutants won't bother you again."

"You'll leave Rogue here?"

"Yes," Remy replied sternly.

Jean came out from a side hallway door just then, her hands preoccupied with a wet rag. She walked towards them, high heels echoing against the silent lobby.

She looked at the blood splattered against Remy's bare chest.

"You should get yourself cleaned up Remy," she said quietly.

"Is she okay?" Remy stood up, a foot taller than Jean, his eyes suddenly softer.

"Yes. She'll be fine. She'd like to see you." Jean turned back around. "I'll show you where you can clean yourself up first."

The journey upstairs was silent. Jean didn't ask one question. Remy was grateful for that.

She led him into a large white bathroom, and pointed out the cupboard with extra clothing and towels.

Remy thanked her, and shut the door. He looked at the full-wall mirror and let a large breath escape his chest.

The blood had begun to dry and crack. He grabbed a washcloth from the closet and with warm water and soap tried to scrub Rogue off of him.

The knock was soft and unsure. He knew it must be her.

He opened the door. She stood there, hair swept back, dressed in a tank top and sweatpants. Her arm and shoulder were bandaged up like a mummy.

"You okay chere?" Remy breathed, one hand resting on the door.

Her eyes were wide, and slowly they began to relax as she took a step forward into his arms.

He grabbed her tight, shutting the door behind her, and pulled her close. She held him with the only arm she could.

"I know you're gonna leave Remy."

Remy pulled back slowly and grabbed the washcloth again, resuming his cleaning.

"Rogue the people after me are dangerous. I have t'leave."

"Then you shouldn't have come back at all."

Remy paused and looked sideways at her.

"You mean that chere?"

"Yes."

Remy moved back towards the closet and pulled out a black shirt. There was a strange logo, consisting of only an X on the left breast. Remy slipped it on.

"I just felt it was something I had to do Rogue."

"You did it more to ease your conscience than mine."

Remy looked at her, bandaged and broken because of him.

"I did it to let you know I love you Rogue. And always have."

Rogue stepped aside from the doorway.

"Well, good job Remy. Now why don't you just go off and die again, let me feel that all over again."

Her hand swept out in a large gesture, her eyes challenging him.

It was a strange moment. He felt they had done this before, this dance without words or song.

He put one hand around her waist and tugged her close again.

"What if I don't leave?"

"If you don't leave now, you'll only leave later," Rogue whispered.

Rogue's eyes were downcast, and Remy lowered in for a kiss.

It was soft and final. Because of course Remy had to leave.

……………………………………………………

There was one more part to this story.

Rogue collapsed to her knees, her bones hitting the dull wood of the dock over the lake. Someone was yelling her name from far away.

She rubbed her eyes slowly. She was in a summer dress, and the slight wind blew at the light layers.

There was some kind of party.

She had seen Remy in the crowd. He had been dead for months. But she had seen him.

And it wasn't the first time.

The yelling was getting closer. Rogue could feel tears rolling down her cheek. Weakly, she stood up, wobbling a bit on her high heels.

"Rogue!"

Rogue swung her head around, her long curls swirling in the wind.

She smiled.

Her smile stopped Kitty at the edge of the lake.

And then Rogue jumped.

And she let herself sink, because she didn't feel like fighting the ghosts.

…………………………………….

Remy opened the bathroom door and the hard barrel of a gun pressed into his forehead. There was a click as the man before him smiled.

"Time to stop running cowboy."

Remy smiled back.

"Gonna shoot me?"

"Much as I'd love to, Essex wants you alive."

The slight pause that followed was enough for Remy to swoop to the side and knock the gun from the man's hand. Remy back-fisted him to the nose before side kicking him into the hallway. The man slammed against the wall, wiping away a bit of blood from his nose.

Remy moved to pick up the gun, but his hand stopped an inch away. He looked up at the surrounding team, every member pointing a gun directly at him.

Once again Remy smiled.

"Guess you caught me."

"You put up a good fight," the blond woman said, moving into the bathroom and grabbing Rogue by the shirt.

"Leave her here. She ain't got nothing to do wit' this," Remy said, eyes on Rogue.

"Who knows," the woman sneered. "Maybe she can help pay off your debts."

Remy swallowed.

He looked at Rogue with sullen eyes, and recognized how impossible their love was and always would be.

………………………………………

Rogue met Jean Grey that summer. They pulled Rogue from the lake and kept her alive.

She was brought to Professor Xavier's mansion. His institute.

Jean Grey was a summer intern. Her nurse.

In the future Jean would keep every instance and observation to herself. She would know Rogue's story but stand in the corners and say nothing.

Rogue wrote in a book in the large dining hall by herself. The room was empty, and the morning sun hit her pages just right.

The professor had suggested that she wasn't as crazy as she thought. That perhaps her loss of control of her power had contributed to the voices and images in her head.

Stress. It was all stress and grief.

She was at the end of her stay. It had been an entire year. It was summer again.

And she knew now that she would be okay. Never perfect. But nonetheless alive.

………………………………………

They stuck Rogue and Remy in opposite cells. They couldn't see each other, but they let their backs rest on adjoining walls.

"You know, I actually thought o'making my fake death real."

Remy's voice was quiet, and less sure than Rogue had ever heard it.

"Why?"

"Because I was fighting a decision. I never wanted to leave ya, but at the same time I did."

Rogue pulled her knees up to her chest, and winced slightly in pain from her shoulder.

"It had nothin' t'do wit' love chere. I just couldn't seem to stay in one place."

"Some days you seemed just fine with it. There were days I thought you'd never leave, and days I knew you would," Rogue replied softly.

"You filled me in a way other people couldn't. I don't know why I always ran."

"Remy, you don't need to explain or make excuses." This was easier, not being able to see his eyes. "Not anymore. I dealt with it all ages ago."

"At Xavier's Institute?"

"Yes." Rogue replied with a pause.

"I'm sorry Rogue. I'm sorry I wasn't there."

"You hate hospitals anyway Remy."

There was an echoing of footsteps. Someone was coming.

Rogue heard Remy's hands clasp against the metal bars, in an effort to get closer to her.

"Rogue-"

"Don't worry Remy," Rogue shuffled closer to the bars on her cell.

"Do you believe in soulmates chere?" She knew he was smiling. She knew he was nervous. For her, not himself.

The footsteps were closer now. She could see the figures in the doorway.

She stood up, her hands sliding along the bars as she did.

"No Remy. I don't."

Remy gave a little laugh.

Cigarette smoke blew through the bars.

Rogue smiled and felt her heart beat normal.

"This is it chere."

The light switched on. And Rogue met Remy's past.