Disclaimer: God created Stan Lee, and Stan Lee created the X-Men. God saw that this was good. There's no way I'm going up against that.

Author's Note: LOL! Now everyone's calling me a cornball. But doesn't that just mean that all my lil' bunnies out there are cornballs as well for reading my cornball story?! ;)

Btw, no one's guessed my line yet!

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Chapter #3: A Rogue Sister
"We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair..."
- 2 Corinthians 4:8

Remy waltzed down a cold, stone passage with a mop, slopping soapy water on every dusty corner he could find. It was a new day, and although the mysterious nun he had encountered the day before had robbed all sleep from his body, he got out of bed that morning with a feeling of renewed strength. He had not been able to find her after she had disappeared from the secret garden, but today was a new day. And new days always held new possibilities.

Having gotten out of bed a little after the crack of dawn that morning, he had found that he had missed breakfast. Sister Betsy was adamant that he wake up in time for her meals, so he had left the kitchen with an empty stomach. Thinking it best to stay out of the nuns' way, he then busied himself by searching for his emerald-eyed angel. He couldn't find her. The convent wasn't very large and he managed to scope out most of the grounds. Once or twice he tried to make his way to that old, forbidden gate, but each time his conscience would get in the way. Although his heart desired to bask in her presence, his mind kept reminding him how tragic his first encounter with her had been.

He wasn't quite sure what had propelled his actions that day. Looking back on it, he could see how foolish and how hasty he had been. Climbing up a tree to peep on a bathing girl? This wasn't his style. But there had been something about her… something that had called to him. He had been drawn to her, and although he could look back now and see the error of his ways, he couldn't help but recall that in that moment – when he had first set eyes on her by the fountain – he had felt as if being in her presence was the only way a man could survive in this world.

In order to keep his mind off of her, Remy had decided to make himself useful. Although the Reverend Mother had assured him that his presence was welcome amongst them, he felt that he should at least offer his services to the convent. He wasn't exactly sure what services he could offer, but he wanted to help in any way he could. He also felt guilty for the thoughts he was having about that emerald-eyed angel and felt that he needed to redeem himself somehow. She was a nun. She was a woman pledged to Christ, who had vowed to remain in the Lord's service for the rest of her life. He had no right to think of her as anything but a servant of God, and yet he had spent the entire night fantasizing about her large, pure eyes staring back at him through cascading water. The thought of her made him tremble in delight, and he hated himself for it. Each time he thought of her, he felt like he was betraying the Reverend Mother's trust. So in order to keep his mind busy – and consequently off of that tantalizing nun – he decided to do some chores around the convent.

And so here he was now, mopping the floor.

He stifled another yawn. Remy was beginning to feel the first sensations of boredom. During his leisurely expedition earlier that morning, he had not failed to notice the lack of entertainment in the building. There were no televisions, no pool tables, no videogames, and definitely no music. There was one, battered looking radio in the living room, but this radio was used only for the news and for a religious station where old men and women bellowed hymns.

Still, there was some pleasure in cleaning, and as Remy glided the mop over the surface of the floor, he wondered if his good deeds would score some points against his bad ones.

'Ah, there you are!'

Remy looked up to find the Reverend Mother coming out through a door to his right. 'Mornin', Sister Munroe.'

'I heard you missed breakfast,' she said, eyeing the mop in his hand and the newly washed floor. 'So I thought I would come and get you when lunch was ready, lest you miss that, as well. Have you been cleaning?'

'Jus' paying my dues.' He lifted the mop over his shoulder and grabbed the pail of water.

'That is not necessary,' replied Sister Munroe, but she smiled at him. 'You are a guest here.'

'Still. Doesn't hurt to keep busy, non?'

'Well, if you insist. Now make haste, Sister Betsy will not be pleased if we are late.'

Remy deposited the mop and pail in a storage closet down the hall and then hurried to catch up with Sister Munroe's quick strides. When they entered the kitchen, they found the table overflowing with bread, cheese, and apples.

'Jean just left,' said Sister Betsy, who was busily moving around the table and placing down cups and utensils. 'Nathan's sick so she couldn't stay long.'

'Nathan will be in our prayers,' said Sister Munroe, taking a seat at the table with a concerned look on her face. 'Is it something serious?'

'Just a runny nose, I think.' Sister Betsy eyed Remy in partial contempt, and then in partial relief. 'Hmm. Look who finally made it in on time…'

Remy flashed Sister Betsy a deviant smile. 'Remy's tryin' his hardest to please you, petite.' He winked at her before sitting down in the seat across from Sister Munroe. 'Who's dis Nathan?'

'Jean's son,' replied the Reverend Mother. She broke a piece of bread and handed it to Remy. 'Jean has two children. A son and a daughter.'

Remy nodded in acknowledgement and then tucked into his meal after hearing the Reverend Mother's prayer for their food. Various other nuns went in and out of the kitchen, but Remy took his time with his lunch. Surely his emerald-eyed angel would come to eat as well? Every time the door opened, his heart would skip a beat, but she was never the one behind it. After a half hour of failed, darting excitements, he decided to brave the consequences and ask about her.

'So, Brother Wagner, he has de sister, non?' He posed his question carefully. He didn't want to reveal his encounter with her. He was sure she was the very sister Brother Wagner had been searching for, as she was the only nun he had not yet been formally introduced to.

'Ah yes, the Rogue Sister,' said Sister Betsy.

'Sister Mary Rose,' corrected Sister Munroe, after taking a sip of her water. 'Technically, they are no longer supposed to consider each other siblings. When a nun or a monk devotes himself or herself completely to the Lord, they must renounce their lives and all who are in it. However, due to their presence in the same convent, and due to their extraordinary relationship, we sometimes forget that they are no longer connected as siblings.'

Remy raised a curious brow. 'Extraordinary relationship?'

'Yes,' said Sister Betsy, and she came to sit at the table with them. They were the only three left in the kitchen, and all three leaned in closer to partake in the sharing of the story. 'Brother Wagner's mother found Sister Rose on the church steps one Sunday night. She was only six years old at the time. Brother Wagner's mother was a bit of a shifty character. She wasn't very religious. She would only come to church to pick up her son, our Brother Wagner, after Sunday School.'

'It is not our place to judge the actions of others,' said Sister Munroe, giving Sister Betsy a severe look. 'Whatever her faults, she took Sister Rose into her home and adopted her as her own child.'

'Yes, and then she ran off with the milk man two months later.'

Remy raised both brows in surprise.

'Brother Wagner, who had been ten years old at the time, was forced to grow up quickly. Without a father, or any other known relative, he was left alone in this world… except for his six year old adopted sister. He was very loving towards her, and quite affectionate. He cared for her, and doted on her as a parent would.' Sister Munroe sat back in her chair, a gentle smile on her lips. 'In order to make a living, Brother Wagner would run errands for the villagers. He worked six days a week, but on the seventh, he would come and volunteer his services here, at our Church. I hear he was very devoted.'

'His little sister would follow him everywhere,' Sister Betsy added. 'Brother Wagner's love was the only love she knew, and she spent her entire adolescence growing up in his shadow.'

'You could say that the Church adopted them both,' Sister Munroe continued. 'Brother Wagner began to study under the monks who were here at the time, and entrusted his sister to the nuns. Both their transitions into this world were flawless… as if they were meant to serve the Lord from birth.'

Remy nodded, rubbing his chin in thought. 'You called her de Rogue Sister. How come?'

Sister Betsy shrugged. 'Because she's a rogue. She's always been detached, and I heard that when she was a child, she didn't associate with anyone except her brother. She's always felt like an outsider, someone who doesn't belong anywhere except where she can be alone.' She chuckled, seeing the anxious expression on Remy's face. 'Don't get me wrong. She's a very sweet girl. She's polite, and gentle, and very much devoted to our convent. She just likes to keep to herself if she can help it.'

'She also got the name of Rogue because she refused to be named at all.'

Remy looked at the Reverend Mother questioningly. 'W'at you mean?'

'She was six when she came into Brother Wagner's world, but she never gave him her name. Brother Wagner apparently suggested many, but she would never respond to any of them. Even when she moved here, to the convent, she refused to acknowledge a name.' Sister Munroe sighed. 'Then one day, some random nun called her a rogue, and the name sort of stuck with her. She became known as the Rogue Sister.'

'Yes, until Sister Munroe here became the Reverend Mother of the House of Charity,' said Sister Betsy, playfully pretending to bask in Sister Munroe's presence.

'And you named her Sister Mary Rose?' Remy felt like he was being told a fairytale.

Sister Munroe nodded. 'It is the duty of the Reverend Mother to assign names to young nuns. I thought Rose would be the most appropriate for our Rogue Sister.'

'How come?'

'She was named after Saint Rose of Lima,' said Sister Betsy, as if this was the most obvious piece of knowledge in the world. 'Saint Rose of Lima was a mystic and visionary who received invisible stigmata, and yet she often suffered from the feeling that God was distant. Despite how lonely she felt, however, she persisted in believing that He was indeed with her all the time, and she continually prayed to grow stronger in her ability to trust Him.'

'When I first got to know the Rogue Sister, I felt that her suffering was much like that of Saint Rose's. The Rogue Sister's pain was invisible. She hid it from others, but there was always a sense of loss about her. First her parents had abandoned her, then her adoptive mother. Soon after her brother was taken from her by his devotion to the Church. And yet throughout, her own trust and faith in the Lord was overwhelming. She found love in His grace, and as a result devoted herself to him completely. Perhaps it is because of her comparison to Saint Rose that the Rogue Sister detests the name I have given her.' Sister Munroe shook her head. 'But she is still too young to take her Solemn Vows. She has much to grow and much to learn.'

'Just for the record,' Sister Betsy interrupted. 'The Rogue Sister is a year younger than I am, so I get to take my Solemn Vows first.' She smirked, and both Sister Munroe and Remy chuckled. She then turned her eyes on Remy. 'Why are you so interested in her anyway?'

Remy could feel sweat emitting from his palms. 'Well… she saved my life, non?' he said, calmly, and thereby belying his sudden anxiety. 'I jus' never seen her 'round. T'ought I'd ask 'bout her.'

'Well, do not go searching for her,' Sister Munroe warned. 'Our Rogue Sister does not like to be found.'

Remy nodded, in his mind thinking that the warning had come a little too late.

'Yes. "Touch not; taste not; handle not",' Sister Betsy added, with a wink, and Remy, suddenly nervous, wondered if Sister Betsy knew more than what she was letting on.

'You big on de Bible quotes, too, neh?' he asked in an attempt to change the subject. He had recalled that the Reverend Mother often quoted the Good Book as well.

Sister Betsy chucked. 'Yes, but don't expect me to source it. I don't usually remember where they come from.'

Sister Munroe rolled her eyes. 'That quote is from Colossians. Chapter 2, verse 21.' She stood up from the table and cleared her mess. 'Now, let us consider lunch to be over, and head back to our work.'

Remy got up as well, and handed Sister Betsy his plate. Lunch had been quite interesting, and he felt relieved after hearing the Rogue Sister's tale. This made her seem more real to him, and confirmed for him that his encounter with her had not just been a dream. At the same time, however, he also felt as if the air had been taken out of him. Her comparison to Saint Rose seemed to remind him just how far from him she was. Her mind, heart, and soul were already given to her God, and Remy's wishful thinking that he could stand beside her forever seemed impossible.

As he left the kitchen and made his way back to the storage closet to retrieve his mop and pail, he decided to give up on his emerald-eyed angel. There was no way he could reach her with his hands as stained as they were.

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It was nearly eight o'clock in the evening when Remy took to the hallway that led to his room. The convent had become quite eerie in the silence, as many of the nuns had already retired for the night.

Remy had spent the remainder of the day doing little odd jobs around the convent. When the nuns heard that he was accepting any and all requests for help, they seemed to swarm around him. He ended up doing such things as fixing door handles, replacing light bulbs, and killing the occasional spider the nuns abhorred. The work had not been difficult, but as Remy reached his bedroom door, he could feel the fatigue in his shoulders.

As he turned the doorknob, he couldn't help but feel a little disappointed. Although he had not gone looking for her, he didn't once catch a glimpse of the Rogue Sister. If his mind didn't continuously wander to that conversation he had had with Sisters Betsy and Munroe over lunch, then he would have, by now, been convinced that she had not existed at all. He felt frustrated that he couldn't rid her from his mind, but he felt even more frustrated that he couldn't see her. And he so very much wanted to.

He pulled open his door with a heavy heart and was immediately overwhelmed by the sweet scent of summer flowers. His feet stopped just over the threshold to his room as his eyes strayed on a figure drawing the curtains at his window. Her movements stopped abruptly as the door clicked shut behind him.

She turned quickly, and in a whirl of black robes, Remy saw the face he had been aching to see all day. For a moment the world around them ceased to move. The air hung in silence, and even the flickering of the candle slowed its hasty dance. The two individuals in the room stood rooted, their eyes gazing into each other's.

Remy held his breath, afraid to move. He had startled her – he could see it in the surprised look on her face. He couldn't imagine what she was doing in his room, but he didn't care. She was here, in the flesh, and he didn't want her to disappear again. All previous thoughts of trying to forget her were forgotten and lost.

'Ah'm sorry,' she said, suddenly, and Remy couldn't recall ever hearing a lovelier voice. 'Ah didn't think you'd be back so soon.'

She took a step towards the door, and then stopped mid-stride as she realized that he was blocking her exit.

'You come to visit me, petite?' he asked, his signature smile now playing on his lips.

She seemed to scowl at his words, and Remy frowned. Usually his default reactions to women worked smoothly. Everyone enjoyed a good flirt, right?

'It's mah duty ta mind your room,' she said, and he could distinctly hear a cold edge around her Southern drawl. 'Or did ya think the fairies made your bed in the mornin's?'

Remy chocked back a chuckle as her eyes flashed with… what? Mirth? 'Remy appreciates de service,' he said, and bowed low before her.

She continued to stare at him for a few seconds – a look that caused Remy's strained heart to pound rapidly against his chest.

'It's mah duty,' she repeated, much in the same tone that the Reverend Mother used, and before Remy could straighten his body, she had pushed past him towards the door.

For a moment he felt a little flustered, as the cloth of her robes brushed against him, but his quick reflexes reacted to her movement and he reached out and grabbed her hand in his.

'Wait,' he said, desperately, pulling her back into the room. He didn't want to see her go. Not again.

The Rogue Sister looked own at her hand, her green eyes shimmering in the candlelight.

'Don't go.'

She turned her eyes on him, and Remy was sure she had heard the beating of his heart.

'I wanted to apol'gize for de ot'er day,' he said, slowly. 'I don't know w'at came over me…'

He turned his eyes away from hers. The intensity in her eyes, and the way she was biting down on her bottom lip, made Remy feel ashamed and… dirty.

'Let's not talk 'bout that ever again,' she said, quietly, and pulled her hand away. Remy's hand remained in the air where she had released it, as if urging her to place her hand back in his again.

She moved towards the door and pulled it open.

'Wait!'

This time she stopped, and turned her head slightly to hear what he had to say.

'I wanted to t'ank you for saving my life. Your name… 'w'at it be?' He had taken a step towards her, but knew that there was nothing he could do to keep her there with him.

She hesitated for a long moment, and then said, 'Rogue.' She turned and walked through the door, closing it firmly behind her.

Remy's impulse urged him to throw the door open and go after her, but he didn't move. What was the point? What would he say? That he wanted her to return to his room? That he wanted to run his hands through her luscious hair and kiss her on her sweet mouth? Would she come if he told her that he wanted to gaze into her emerald green eyes all night long?

Of course not.

Remy ran a frustrated hand through his unkempt hair. She was a nun. A nun! He groaned as he stripped his body of all clothes and fell into his hard, unwelcoming bed. What was happening to him? He didn't even know who this girl was, and yet he yearned for her like no other. Was it because he knew he couldn't have her; that touching her was as impossible as seeing the gates of Heaven? Surely he had some control over his own heart…

He turned over in his bed and buried his face in his pillow. Images of her kept flashing into his mind as her sweet scent floated around him. How long had she been in his room?

He groaned, squeezing his eyes shut. What did it matter?

Merde…

What was wrong with him?

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Author's Note: Well. The Cajun seems full-blown. Next chapter we'll see what the Rogue Sister thinks of all this…