It had been weeks of training with Xavier, locking away Carol's psyche, practicing Carol's powers without tangling thoughts and thoughts. No, my powers. They're my powers now. Xavier confirmed it. All of Carol was trapped inside her, and none of it was ever going back inside that body the Brotherhood had. There was no more separation between them. Whatever was Carol's was hers now. Rogue had super strength and impenetrable poison skin. Rogue could fly.

It was weird being back at the mansion. Everyone was wary, treated her with a little bit of scorn and a lot of hope, except Remy who wouldn't treat her like anything at all.

She had heard he'd come back here just a few days after she moved back into the dorms, and she hadn't caught him once. He was avoiding her, like before they'd both left. It almost felt like they were just a couple having a spat again, like her life had hit rewind, almost.

She let him avoid her for a while, but it had been weeks and she figured now was as good a time as ever to force him into having it out with her. She looked all over the mansion, starting with his room and ended up finding him on the grounds.

Remy fingered an unlit cigarette. The whole business with her, with Carol, had him on edge. He put it in his mouth, then pulled it out, rolled it lightly between his forefinger and thumb. His muscles felt rigid. He couldn't get his breathing even. He stuck the cigarette back in his mouth, brushed the end with a finger, and lit it with a pink glow. The smoke tasted sweet after so long without indulging.

"You can come out, petite. Can't sneak up on a thief." He took a drag and blew the smoke out in the air in a cloud. "Our scores settled now."

She shook her head, let out a relieved breath, and strolled over. He let his eyes follow her hips as they swayed. "You stink worse than the Mississippi, swamp rat."

He chuckled. The sound rang from deep in his chest.

She watched his shoulders rise and fall, watched his lips wrap around the cigarette and suck. "Nice habit." She shook her head.

He watched her watch him. He took another drag.

The cigarette sparked at the end. Her chest got tight. She swiped at his mouth, tried to grab the cigarette from between his lips, fingers, but his reflexes were just faster than hers.

"Something got you down, chere?"

She looked away, stared out into the field and tried to focus on how the sun gleamed off the dew-covered leaves of grass instead of the smell of the smoke, of the burning. "Maybe we can quit together?" She said it to the leaves, but turned to look at him as the sentence landed, wanting to see his reaction.

He licked his lips, looked her up and down, took another long drag, and put the cigarette out against the concrete.

"Feeling all better now? Just one voice in that head of yours?"

She was taken aback a little by how direct he'd been. Why had he avoided her is he was so concerned. "Yeah." She swallowed.

"You staying put here?"

She thought about just answering the question, but didn't want to miss the opportunity. "Are you?

I'll stay if you stay. The sentence was strong in his mind. "At least for a while, yeah. Figure, why not? Nice digs they got here."

"Yeah." She smiled. "It's a great place to…" she trailed off. To find redemption.

"I think they got everything I need here."

She figured he got her meaning, but he meant her. "You think he'll come back?"

He coughed from the shock of her suggestion. "Pyro, here? An X-Men?" He had a scoff ready in his throat, but she cut him off.

"No. No, of course not." She shook her head. He watched her intently. "No, I mean, to get me."

"Oh." He weighed the idea. "Yeah, maybe."

"What do I do?"

"Guess you got to break his heart, mon coeur." Remy took the cigarette into his hand again, rubbed it between his fingertips, brought it to his nose for a sniff, and then flicked it into the grass. Rather his than mine. He stared into the expanse.

She gave him a long look, wondered how much French he figured she'd picked up. "I don't know French." She watched his profile, let her eyes trail across his broad forehead to his jutting chin.

He turned to look at her, caught her watching his mouth and smirked. He eyed her, all bare arms and bare legs. He watched her hand twitch, watched her lift it from her lap and move it to his arm, watched as she laid her palm flat against his skin, and he felt the pull. A groan escaped his lips. Trust is harder than distrust to force.

"I'm sorry!" She was on her feet. "Sorry, sorry."

It had just been a few seconds. "It's no problem, petite. Just a pinch." His voice was a little rough, and he swallowed to settle it. He listened as the sorrys kept falling from her lips. "Maybe find some of those gloves you used to wear, and we'll try again, non?" She quieted. "See how creative we can get." His eyebrows raised in punctuation.

She glared at him. "I ought to touch you again. Give you a bit of what you deserve."

He chuckled. "Non. Man's gotta have his secrets, even if you're wanting his voice whispering sweet nothings in your mind." He winked at her, even as they no longer had secrets between them.

She tried to stay mad, tried to keep her face tight, but she couldn't help but crack a smile. "You better start acting like a gentleman." She bit her lip as he watched, looking wholly unremorseful. "I'm going inside." She could hear him laugh as she stormed off, turned her head and eyed him as laughter escaped her own throat.