In a life where the bad days seemed to out number the good, a life where storm clouds perpetually gathered on the horizon, good days were meant to be savoured. Like a fine wine, these days ought to be lingered over, every subtle nuance explored, and the experience shared. On the mornings when the promise of a good day rose with the sun, Remy found that there really was only one person with whom he wanted to share—his chère, his coeur, his Rogue.

Back into the swing of their separate routines, he had scarcely seen her since their return from Paraíso. Her absence ached like an old wound acting up with the change of the weather. The passing days had been filled with a myriad of minor missions and grey skies, so when he woke to the sun breaking through the cloud cover with the promise of a glorious dawn, Remy knew that today was going to be one of those rare good days. He didn't plan to miss a moment of it.

Which, was how he found himself on the Mansion grounds with a picnic basket at his feet. From where he stood he could see Rogue's window. Not that he could see into the room, the angle and curtains obscured the interior view. For which he was grateful. She'd never let him hear the end of it, if she thought that had been his intent. He stared at the window for a moment longer, wishing for a sign that the gesture would come across as romantic rather than voyeuristic. Things were going well between them and he wanted to do something special for her. He wanted to romance her in the way she deserved. With a shrug, Remy rolled a handful of pebbles between his fingers as he selected one.

Remy tossed the small stone at Rogue's window. Thanks to all his years of practice, his aim was true and the pebble bounced off the window with a small tnk. With no sign that the occupant within had noticed the sound, he continued tossing pebbles in a rapid tattoo until his hand was empty. It was always a slightly odd sensation to be throwing things and not charging them, but all he wanted to do was catch her attention not blow out her window. Despite the lack of explosion, it only took the handful of pebbles before the curtains twitched.

"Good morning, ma colombe," Remy called up to the silhouette of the belle femme hovering behind the curtains.

At the sound of his voice, Rogue flung back her curtains and threw open the window. Though she squinted into the brilliant yellows of a new dawn on the horizon, her green eyes were sharp and ready to snap. Her hair was a frazzled mess of curls. The white streak gleamed gold in the early morning light. She tugged at the belt of her robe and cinched it tight. The swell of her breasts were evident under the v of her robe.

"Swamp rat! What do ya think you're doin'?" She hissed, trying to keep her voice low, but failing to keep the flush of irritation from her face.

She was gorgeous. Remy wanted to wrap his arms around her and kiss her senseless. Unfortunately he was the one who'd end up senseless with such a reckless kiss.

"Didya fall asleep down there?" Framed by the window, she stood with hands on her hips and staring down at the helpless fool in love.

Remy shook his head, his auburn hair momentarily obscuring his vision. He'd been so lost in thought that he'd forgotten they were in the middle of a conversation. Taking a second to cast his best devil may care grin in her direction, he held up the picnic basket. "It's goin' t' be a gorgeous day, chère, t'ought we could take advantage of it. If we escape before de others wake, we might actually get some time alone."

She huffed, blowing the white fringe out of her eyes. The corner of her lips quirked up in a smile despite her best efforts to appear stern, if not downright annoyed. He knew he could win her over. She'd known it too.

Rogue turned, purposely giving Remy a nice view of her cinched waist and the drape of the robe over her backside. Before he could scale the side of the Mansion and follow her inside, she glanced over her shoulder with a toss of her head. "You stay there, sugah. Ah'm gonna get dressed."

"Yes, ma'am." He winked saucily and didn't attempt to hide the good natured leer. And, though he couldn't see her expression, he knew that Rogue enjoyed the fact that she was able to drive him wild. It was all part of their repartee—the teasing, the banter, the back and forth. Each of them seeing how far they could push the other until they responded with either passion or anger. Recently, passion usually won out.

Remy leaned against the side of the building in a comfortable insouciance and shuffled a deck of cards. He grinned to himself. There was no doubt now that today was going to be a good day. It was already off to a great start.

It wasn't long before Rogue had leapt out of her window and landed gently on the ground below. She sauntered across the few steps of lawn between them, her hips swayed in a mesmerizing rhythm as she walked. When she reached him, Rogue wrapped an arm around his waist and pulled him close. Remy swallowed back the moan of desire that rose in his throat. She smiled cheekily, knowing exactly what she was doing to him.

"Feelin' nostalgic chère?" He was grateful for his own gloves and long sleeve shirt as he returned the embrace and pulled her against him. Inhaling the scent of her sweetness, he rested his chin on the top of her head. The sharp bristles running along his jaw and chin caught at the silky strands of her hair. His fingers trailed along the sliver of exposed skin between her shorts and shirt. She shivered at his touch and pressed closer to him. Back in the early days when he'd joined the X-men, it had often felt like there were always picnics and swim parties to while away the moments between missions and training sessions. Rogue would wear the shortest of cut-off shorts and cropped tops that revealed tantalizing slivers of skin. In those days, she'd pushed him away, constantly keeping him at arm's length. Protecting herself as much as she was trying to protect him. These days, she covered up more, but she allowed him closer.

"Ya could say that swamp rat. Whatchya got planned?" Her honeyed drawl warmed him more than the burgeoning sunrise ever could.

"Well, I packed a picnic. Any suggestions where we might indulge wit'out de rest of the X-men joinin' in?" He chuckled as he recalled their attempts at dates early in their flirtation. They were scarcely allowed a moment alone.

She scanned the southern horizon, as she mulled over the question. After a moment's hesitation, she pushed on. "Ah know just the place, sugah, though it's a bit of a trek."

Languidly, he brushed a stray strand of white hair back in place and leaned in close to whisper low and husky in her ear. "I'll go wit' you anywhere, mon coeur. Even to de end of de earth."

"Ain't quite the ends of the earth, swamp rat, but it's good to know." There was a flirtatious lilt to her drawl. She grabbed his hand and led the way away from the Mansion.

On the banks of the Mississippi River, with the remnants of their picnic lunch packed away, Rogue laid on her back with her head pillowed on her folded arms. The exposed skin of Rogue's face and legs, her bare arms and midriff, was taking on a flattering pink flush. With her eyes closed, she sang along to the old country songs playing on the radio. Remy wasn't exactly familiar with the specific songs—only hearing them in passing fits and starts over the years—but when she sang along, he conceded that it was the best music in the world.

Lounging on his side with his head propped on his hand, he took in every inch of her. He wished he could draw so that he might record every intimate detail of the scene before him. His fingers itched with the desire to sketch those forbidden, sensuous swells and curves—as if by the very act of drawing her, he could caress her. Sans pencil and paper, Remy reached across the red-checked picnic blanket and ran his fingers through the corona of hair splayed halo-like across the blanket and around her head. He twisted a curl around his fingers.

She stopped singing and heaved herself up with a heavy sigh that pulled more out of her than a simple breath. With a weary flick of her gloveless hand, she held him at bay. All traces of their afternoon idylls faded from existence, leaving only the weight of her mutation in its wake. "Remy…" she warned.

He withdrew his hand and raked his fingers through his hair, pulling the strands taut against his scalp, unable and unwilling to diffuse the building buzz of exasperation in any other way. It was just that he wanted to lavish on her everything she deserved and more. And yet, he felt stymied every time he tried. "Just your hair, chère."

It was an old refrain they both knew all too well. Today was about her and she had wanted to feel the sun on her bare skin without fear. "You promised…"

"I know, I know….look, don' touch." His words exuded a vexation he hadn't meant to express. He wasn't being fair; after all, he wasn't the only one who was frustrated by the protective distance.

Anger flared in her bright eyes, then faded to hurt, before clouding over into a blank wariness meant to keep him away. Rogue deflated, drawing herself inward as though trying to take up as little space as possible.

Remy winced and the plague of internal voices berated him for hurting her again. He ignored the mental taunts, knowing that he would need to deal with them later when Rogue wasn't trying to withdraw from him. He'd never meant to let his frustration come through. Too late to take back the unintentional words, he offered understanding in the form of actions instead. Rearranging the picnic blanket, he draped it over her shoulders, covering her bare skin. Rogue clutched at the material from inside the protective barrier and pulled it tight around her, creating a red-checked cocoon. Careful not to make even the most minute skin contact, Remy wrapped his arms around her and buried his face in her hair. It was still damp from her earlier swim and she smelled of sun and sweat.

Swathed under the protective layers of material, the tension eased from her shoulders as she relaxed into his strong embrace. The rope hanging from the bough of a nearby tree creaked and groaned in the wind and slapped against the exposed rock. Lost in thought and memory, Rogue and Remy silently watched the waves lap rhythmically against the shore. The sun sparked like glittering diamonds from the crest of the wavelets.

Eventually, Remy broke the silence. "'m sorry, mon coeur."

Rogue turned her face and rested her cheek against his chest. He caught the quirk of her lips in a sad half-smile. She wrapped a blanket covered hand around his bare forearm. "Ah know, Remy. Ah wish…"

Her words, as though carried away on the wind and waves, drifted off unspoken. What more could either of them say? All too recently they had experienced an unprecedented amount of freedom when it came to touching each other. Their time on Paraíso still fresh and vivid in their minds and along their skin. The ghost trails of touch still lingered. For Remy, it was if her touch had infused into every cell of his skin and ran through his blood with an energy more potent than his kinetic charge. He imagined the sensation was probably more intense for her. And now, they were back to the status quo. Back to don't touch. The prohibition was always worse after they had opportunity to touch without barriers. The memories of what could be lingered like raw, open wounds that even their simple closeness only served to painfully poke and prod and reopen the intense desire.

"Do you want t' head back?" Remy asked in a low murmur, keeping his tone gentle and offering her an escape if she wanted one. He wasn't ready for their time together to end, but if being here caused her stress, he didn't want to add to it. Besides, it didn't matter to him where they went, as long as he was with her, He wanted her no matter what. And, if going back to the Mansion was what she wanted, then that was what they'd do.

"Nah." Rogue shook her head. Her unbound curls tickled his nose and caught in the stubble of his five o'clock shadow. "Not yet. Maybe just a change of scenery. There's too many memories here. Ah used to escape here when Ah needed to get away from it all. Ya know how it is."

"Oui, I know." For him it hadn't been the river, though the ol' Mississippi would its way past his childhood home as it had hers. His escape had been the rooftops—it was still the rooftops. "Where would you like t' go, chère?" Tenderly he ran his fingers through her hair, gathering it up and back and twisting it into a bun to keep it off her neck.

"How 'bout a walk into town?" Though Rogue tried to make it sound like an offhand remark, Remy sensed there was something more to the suggestion than a simple stroll along Main Street. The slight flush that coloured her cheeks practically guaranteed it.

"Sure." He shrugged in an attempt to appear as nonchalant as she was trying to be. Truth was, his curiosity was piqued. This wasn't the first time they'd come down to her hometown, though this might very well be the only time they'd come with the simple motivation of spending time together.

The blanket fell from her shoulders as she scootched forward and snatched up her gloves. Remy buttoned the front of his shirt and rolled down the sleeves before offering Rogue his gloved hand. Taking his hand, she scrambled to her feet and smiled at him. "Thanks sugah."

Hand in hand, they walked down Main Street. The shops that lined the cracked and pitted sidewalks had clearly seen better days. Rogue's face had fallen when they'd entered town and found about as many shops vacant as occupied. Halfway down the block, Rogue slowed their pace until she stopped altogether. Pausing in the middle of the sidewalk, she lifted her free hand to shade her eyes and peered across the street.

Remy squinted from behind his sunglasses in an attempt to discover what had caught her attention. The sun shone brightly, reflecting off the street in visible waves. His temples throbbed and he wanted to get out from under the sun for a bit. But, he didn't say anything, not wanting to hurry Rogue along.

"Ya see that appliance shop and the barber over there 'cross the street?" Rogue gestured at the empty store situated between the two she'd mentioned. Torn brown paper was tacked up over the plate glass storefront. In faded gold lettering, McAllister's Books and More was scrawled on the equally faded green overhang.

"Oui." Remy nodded.

"When Ah was a kid, Mr. McAllister would let me sit in the back of his shop and read. Ah'd come out 'most every Saturday."

Remy couldn't help but grin at the conjured image of a grade-school aged Rogue curled up with a book at the back of the store. She still loved to spend a lazy afternoon curled up with a good book. "What did you like t' read back den?"

"Most anythin' Ah could get mah hands on." She tilted her head to the side as she reminisced over childhood reading. "Though, Ah gotta admit mah favourites were the adventure stories. At the time, Ah wanted to get outta here so bad. Never thought it would happen the way it did."

He wrapped his arms around her and rested his chin on the top of her head. It was odd, he thought, when he was young, he never dreamed of leaving New Orleans. Being off the street, having a home, yes. Leaving his city, never. In the end, he hadn't been given a choice.

Caught up in the memory, Rogue continued her story. "Mr. McAllister always said, when Ah was old enough, Ah could have a job if Ah wanted one. Had to leave before Ah had the chance to take him up on the offer."

Uncertain how to respond, Remy simply held her tighter and mumbled a sympathetic, "Sorry, chère."

"Nothin' for ya to be sorry 'bout, swamp rat." Rogue shook off the melancholy which had settled over her as she had recounted the possibilities of the normal life she'd lost. She grabbed his hand and half-dragged him down the street for a few steps before he caught up. "C'mon."

"Where we goin', chère?"

Rogue grinned. For a brief moment, the years rolled back and he saw the might-have-beens of the girl who had grown up in this town. "Have ya ever had a cream soda?"

Remy raised an eyebrow. "I take it dis is somet'in' different than de kind you find at de grocery store?"

"Mm-hmm. Better." Rogue let him into an old pharmacy that didn't belong to any chain. A sign in the window proclaimed it also had a soda counter. She led him past shelves stocked with pain killers and cold remedies, ointments and knee braces. Before he could ask what they were doing, they arrived at the back of the shop and faced a scene that looked like it could have stepped right out of a Norman Rockwell painting. "Have a seat, Cajun."

There was no one behind the counter, so Rogue tapped the silver bell beside the register and a clear note rang out in the empty store. She perched on one of the stools that lined the counter. It creaked as she sat and appeared to give a bit of a wobble. The red vinyl was cracked and a strip of foam padding peeked through the strip of clear packing tape which mended the gash. Tentatively, Remy claimed the seat beside her. The stool groaned louder than the bell as he spun to face her.

"Ah'm surprised to see this place still open," she whispered at a conspiratorial volume. "With so many of the old haunts gone….Ah figured, well, that the soda counter would be gone too."

He shook his head with a bemused grin. With the ease that she'd taken to living in New York, it was easy to forget that Rogue was a small town girl at heart. New Orleans might not be New York, but it was a city filled to the brim and bursting with life. He didn't think he could have lasted living here as long as she had.

"It's nice chère." He reached for her hand and gave it a squeeze as a woman with neatly coifed salt and pepper hair and a name tag that read 'Iris' made her way to the soda counter from the register up front.

"What can Ah do for y'all?" Iris reached for a black binder with the recipes for the selection of drinks listed on the half-smudged chalk board perched behind the counter.

"Two cream sodas, please." Rogue placed the order without bothering to examine the menu.

"Sure thing, hon. Be just a moment." The woman hummed to herself as she set about the task, following the recipe as she worked.

It wasn't long before Iris finished the sodas and placed them on the counter in front of Rogue and Remy. "Anythin' else Ah can get y'all?"

Rogue shook her head. "Nah. Thank ya, ma'am."

"All right then. Ah'll be up front. Just holler if ya need anythin'." Iris retraced her path back up front, leaving the couple to consume their drinks in private.

With a shy smile, Rogue watched Remy as she sipped her soda. With a shrug, Remy gave his a try—if for no other reason than to please Rogue. It was surprisingly good, better than he thought it would be as he had watched Iris make the concoction. Thinking of other lives and the possibilities that went with them, he felt a bit like the kid he'd never been as they sat at the soda counter holding hands and drinking their cream sodas.

"When Ah was a kid, Ah used to dream about comin' here with mah boyfriend…" The blush returned to Rogue's cheeks, this time it was a brilliant crimson. Ice cubes clinked against the sides of the glass as she stirred her soda with the straw. She studied the swirl of liquid and ice, rather than meet Remy's gaze. "Thanks for indulgin' me."

"O' course chère. It's all very innocent-like." Remy chuckled. Over their time together they'd indulged in many of their less than innocent desires, so there was definitely something sweet and strangely intimate about not only fulfilling this fantasy for her, but having her share it with him in the first place. They didn't often talk about their childhoods.

"Don' laugh swamp rat." She lightly smacked his arm, causing him to spill his drink with a more amused than alarmed yelp. "Ya've seen the town. There wasn't much more to it back then either. Besides, Ah was like twelve."

Remy sobered at the reminder. Her dreams for the future came to a crashing halt with the manifestation of her mutant powers, she lost this world with its mundane normalcy. With a simple kiss, her hopes and dreams were forced to change with the same sudden, irrevocable immediacy of an explosion. On that day, Anna Marie had, for the lack of a better description, died and Rogue had taken her place.

At twelve he was making future plans for the first time in his life. His adoption had allowed him the freedom to form hopes and dreams of what his life might become. While her dreams of a normal life were being erased from existence, he was dreaming of the possibility of home and family.

Of course, in the end, those childish dreams had proved no more tenable for him than they had for her. When he barely made it out of his teen years, he never truly expected his dreams to survive either. On his eighteenth birthday as he was driven out of New Orleans—the only home he'd ever known—he tried to bury every hope fueled dream of marriage and family, of home and settling down. For years, he had succeeded at keeping them locked away, until he met Rogue. The day he had finally realized that he truly loved her, Remy had inadvertently also revived the possibility that someday those dreams of a family and a future might come true. Even now, after all they'd been through together, he could scarcely allow himself to linger on those dreams.

But, Rogue. Rogue lost not only her dreams, but her past and even a great deal of who she was when her powers manifested. She could never go home, never have a normal life, and never know who she might have become without the influence of Mystique, the prophecies of Destiny, and the imprinting of Carol shaping her life from that day forward.

"Don' mourn the past, sugah," Rogue cupped his cheek with her gloved hand. "Ah know now that Ah'd never have been happy settlin' here. And everythin' that happened, well, swamp rat, it led me to ya. So, Ah guess Ah'm grateful."

Remy swallowed back the lump in his throat. His chère knew how to hit the heart of the matter. His own past—all the pain and the bad decisions he wished he could re-write—also led him here. Led him to her. And, yes, for that he was grateful. "Moi aussi, mon coeur."

Settling back on the creaking stool, Remy took her hand and rubbed his thumb over her knuckles. She'd shared her childhood memories with him, the least he could do was be as vulnerable with her. To tell her something that he hadn't told anyone else, even if it was only a nearly forgotten memory of his youth.

Remy shook off the sting that memories of his past always brought with them. His voice became low and reflective while his red-eyed gaze grew faraway. "Suppose I must have been 'round twelve or so myself—it was definitely after Jean-Luc took me in an' I was feelin' like I might finally have a home—sometimes, on quiet evenings, I'd lay up on de rooftops and dream of de future. About all de possibilities dat were suddenly open t' me." He didn't feel the need to elaborate, she'd been to his house in New Orleans. Though he had tried to down play it at the time, she knew what the house had represented for him. It had been a physical manifestation of his childhood dreams.

Clearing his throat, he continue, "My favourite nights were de ones when a storm was brewing on de horizon. De air would be heavy and de wind would smell of rain. Dere was dis charge in de air an' I could feel it in m' bones."

"No wonder ya and 'Ro get along so well," Rogue smiled fondly and rested her head on his shoulder. "Guess that explains a few things about ya, swamp rat."

He grinned. She was right about that.

"Would you like t' go…t' go t' New Orleans wit' me?" He had almost said home, but the word stuck in his throat. New Orleans wasn't home anymore and he didn't know when that had happened. Even when he was still banished, he'd considered the Crescent City as the home of his heart. The city would always be part of him, it ran through his veins like the energy that pulsed deep within him with every beat of his heart. But, it didn't hold the same sway over him.

Rogue squeezed his hand, and that's when it struck him. He'd given his heart to another. Home was no longer the city of his birth. Home was no longer a place, rather it was a person. Home would be—now and forevermore—wherever Rogue was. "We could watch de stars come out…"

….and dream of a future together. Though he left the last part unsaid. Even without words, she knew exactly what he meant. No matter what the cards might hold for them, their lives and futures were inextricably entwined.

She nodded. "Ah'd like that."

Leaving their empty glasses on the counter, they paid their bill and headed on their way out of town. Soon they would need to return to the routine of their lives, but for the moment, the night was still theirs. The missions and duties that required their attention could wait for one more evening.

Still, Remy had played the game long enough to recognize when a new hand was being dealt. And, for the first time in a long while, he had a good feeling about this hand.