Logan thundered onto the plane. Jean and Kitty were sitting and speaking with Remy, obviously already charmed. He strode up to the group, scowling. "I don't trust you, bub."

Remy shrugged. "Don' need yo' trust," he said blandly, leaning back and propping his boots on the seat opposite him. Logan turned on his heel and stalked to the front controls.

"So, like, what happened to all of the Acolytes?" Kitty asked, chin propped in her hands, eyes wide.

"Oh, dey here and dere. Colossus took off for Russia, lookin' for his sister. Pyro still hangin' around, but we don' exactly socialize. Quicksilver's back wit' de Brotherhood, on account of Apocalypse squashin' his daddy.

"Don't take this the wrong way, but why are you still in Bayville if Magneto's gone? Doesn't that leave you at loose ends?" Jean regarded him curiously. Despite the fact that she recognized his charm was really a form of telepathy, she couldn't help but be fascinated.

"I'm good wit loose ends," he drawled. "B'sides. That was…contract work…wit ol' Mags. Once it was over, I went back to bein' a free agent. Never really into de whole mutant superiority thing, to tell de truth. But Magneto paid pretty well, and things certainly not boring workin' for him." He flashed another dangerous smile. "I get in trouble when I'm bored.

"So why stay around now that the contract is over?" Kurt asked from the front seat.

He smiled and straightened as Rogue boarded the jet. "Found somet'in' to keep life interestin'," he murmured.

She was clad in the jeans and black sweater Remy had picked up. The sweater was long-sleeved, nearly to her fingertips, with a wide neck that showed the sharp, fine line of her collarbone. Both the sweater and jeans skimmed her body – not too tight, but snug enough to hint at the lines and curves of her graceful form. She sat, subdued, in the seat across from him.

"It's perfect," she said self-consciously, touching the cashmere. Remy's fingers itched to do the same, to find out if the skin under the silky material was equally soft.

"It's you," he replied, eyes on hers. "I picked this up too," he said, tossing her a small box. "Didn't have de chance to give it to you with all de commotion goin' on."

She blinked, taken aback. Kitty and Jean exchanged glances as Logan looked back from the pilot's chair, frowning.

"Buckle up, guys," Scott called from the co-pilot's seat. "We're heading home."

Remy didn't miss how Rogue's face saddened slightly at his words. Did she hate it there that much? He didn't think so – he suspected running away had been an impulsive act, and the fact that she hadn't brought a bag with her suggested that she was intending to go back that night. Maybe she didn't really feel Xavier's was her home. She was a transplant, after all, like him.

"Un homme give a fille a present in a little box, chere, mos' girls be rippin' into it."

She gave him a cool glance. "Ah told ya before, swamp rat. Ah ain't most girls." But she opened it anyway, and immediately felt guilty as she drew out a fine silver chain with a pendant of green and black stone. She looked at him again, perplexed. "Ah don' understand."

"It's malachite. My Tante Mattie says it's good for healin'." Exactly what it healed, he wasn't going to say, at least not now. He felt the girls' gazes on him and flashed her another cocky grin. "B'sides – it matches your eyes."

Kitty hid a smile behind her hand. She had never seen her friend so off-balance.

"Thanks," she said. Was that the only thing she could think of to say? She touched the necklace lightly. She couldn't figure him out. One minute, talking to her, listening to her, understanding her. The next, hitting on her like some sort of super-suave frat boy. She wasn't sure which Remy was real. And to tell the truth, she wasn't sure she knew which she preferred. Flirtation and light banter, even insults, were things she could handle. It was the candor that disarmed her, left her open.

Kurt appeared. "Scott said we'll be at the mansion in about forty minutes. How are you feeling?"

"Tired," she admitted. "Ah ache like Ah've just been through a level nine sim in the Danger Room."

"You should rest. Dr. McCoy said he wants to examine you as soon as we get back."

"Go in back and lie down, Rogue," Jean suggested, and Kitty nodded her agreement.

"Yeah, chere," Remy drawled. "Dat's a good idea. Want some company?" He waggled his eyebrows at her. Kitty stifled another laugh as Kurt scowled.

On familiar footing once again, Rogue glared. "Jewelry only gets a guy so far, swamp rat. And you got a longer way to go than most." With that, she gingerly made her way to the back, Kurt behind her.

"Yeah," he said, half to himself. "But I'm sure gonna enjoy de trip."

A/N

Thanks to everyone sending in reviews – I'm trying hard not to disappoint.

Panther Nesmith – Of course Remy's gonna piss Logan off. That's a given. So what's going to stop Logan from filleting him like a salmon? That's where things (I hope) will get interesting. I think Kurt probably has a less menacing, though no less sincere, growl. And as for Apocalypse, I'm hammering that out right now. There's not much sense in me recapping the Ascension episodes – why mess with something that was so well done – so it's more a question of making sure this piece dovetails nicely with it. Too, I'm more interested in the ramifications of what we've seen on-screen.

Ishandahalf – The back-and-forth I was referring to was Sorkin's chronology thing – he used that multiple-perspective flashback thing to great effect in both WW and Sports Night. I would never lose the Romy banter – it's magically delicious! And yeah – sniffing the one you're smitten with is a sign you've got it pretty bad. Unless you're Logan, I think. He just sniffs everyone out of habit, the scruffy little puppy!

RogueChere – You're right – the stalker thing is just the tiniest bit ooky. I'm justifying it by telling myself that it's all in the name of true love. And fate. I figure you can get away with a little stalking if you chalk it up to true love and fate, right?

AngieX – Don't fret – Remy will suavely end up where he belongs. Or rather, where I think he belongs. And I'm pretty certain you know where I think that is.