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: Hiya, guys! Sorry for the delay in updating! I've started back at work and needed some time to get my bearings. I'm back in the swing though and should be updating as often as I used to. :)

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Chapter #4: The Rogue Sister's Condemnation
"Hatred stirreth up strifes: but love covereth all sins."
- Proverbs 10:12

Rogue burst into her room and slammed the door hard behind her. Her body was shaking with an unnatural feeling she could not explain. She was breathless, her body feeling clammy and hot. She held up her hand – the one he had grabbed – and looked at it with a mixture of alarm and fear in her eyes. She held it out in front of her as she hurried to the washbasin on her dresser and poured water into it from the jug. She then unceremoniously plunged her hand into the basin and began to rub it vigorously. When she was done, she collapsed onto her bed without drying her hand off.

The fire in her soul roared loudly as her mind wandered back to that man. She couldn't understand why, whenever she tried her hardest to avoid him, God sent her whirling right into him. She turned her head from where it lay on her humble bed sheet to look at the rustic cross hanging on her bare wall. She frowned.

If she was to be honest with herself, then she had to admit that there had been some curiosity at first. She had found the man quite by accident – stumbling onto his unconscious body during one of her moonlit strolls. She had immediately alerted her brother, and together they had carried his body into the spare room. With the Reverend Mother, Rogue had dressed the man's wounds, and when the Reverend Mother had left she had remained with him throughout the night. She didn't know who he was. She didn't know his story. She didn't know how he had come to be there. But she had remained with him day and night throughout his pained slumber. The Reverend Mother had left her in charge of him, but Rogue would have stayed even if he were not her responsibility. There was something in the way she had found him on the doorsteps of the Church that reminded her so much of her own story. Had not she, too, been found on the doorsteps of this very Church?

She had stayed up during the nights while he had slumbered. She had observed his face and how troubled he seemed to feel even when asleep. She had gazed into his eyes but once, when he had lifted his eyelids to peer into her own eyes that first night. They had been red, swimming in a pool of black. She had never seen eyes such as his and although she felt that they were as the devil's, she found herself attracted to them.

This was, perhaps, her first taste of such sinful thoughts.

Rogue groaned as she sat up in her bed.

And then one morning, he would wake… and then fall into her bath. Her cheeks blazed red as she thought back to that day. She still didn't know how he had come to be there. That garden was reserved only for the nuns, and they often bathed there in the seclusion of nature during the hot, summer days. It was her favourite spot… and he had tainted it.

He had emerged from the depths of the water, his strong legs tangled with her own, water glistening over his chiseled features, his breath bathing her lips in a shuddering gasp. She had never been so physically close to a man before. She had only ever spoken freely to one – her brother Kurt. How, then, was she now able to talk to this stranger after he had invaded her privacy?

She didn't dislike the man… but she felt that his presence was rather unsettling. She found herself attracted to him and yet feared being around him. What was this uncanny attraction? She didn't understand it, and this ignorance annoyed her.

She let out a frustrated sigh just as the door opened and the Reverend Mother entered with a tray of biscuits.

'A snack, Sister Rose?' Sister Munroe inquired, placing the tray on the meager nightstand.

'Don't call me that,' she sighed, clearly put out.

Sister Munroe chuckled. It wasn't a rare thing to find the Rogue Sister in one of her moods.

'But it is your na—'

'What is he still doin' here?!' Rogue interrupted unceremoniously, shooting Sister Munroe a defiant glare.

'I beg your pardon?' Sister Munroe eyed Rogue with mild surprise on her face. 'What is who still doing here?'

'That man!'

'Ah, you must mean Remy.' Sister Munroe sat down on Rogue's bed and casually smoothed the creases in her gown. 'So you two have finally met.'

Rogue narrowed her brows. 'We have. He retired early and caught me cleanin' his room.'

'A pleasant surprise, I am sure,' Sister Munroe replied. Her tone was serious, but her eyes were dancing with amusement. She was quite entertained at seeing Rogue so upset about Remy. She had known for a while now that Rogue had purposely been avoiding him, and she found it hilarious that Remy had stumbled onto her when she had tried so hard to avoid him.

'Yea, raht. He seems perfectly fine now. Why is he still stickin' 'round? Doesn't he have other places ta spy on?'

'Spy on?' Sister Munroe raised a curious brow.

Rogue's eyes widened as she realized her slip. Under no circumstances was she about to reveal the embarrassment of being spied on while bathing. 'Ah mean… it's not important. Why is he still here?'

Sister Munroe shrugged as she took a biscuit from the tray. 'I invited him to remain here for as long as he needs. I believe he was thankful for the offer.' Seeing the unpleasant look on Rogue's face, she continued. 'Remy had been running for his life the night you found him, Sister Rose. Something led him here, to our very doorstep.'

'So?' Rogue was pouting.

'So… I believe he has a purpose here. God brought him here for a reason.'

Rogue folded her arms over her chest. 'That's ridiculous.'

'Is it?' Sister Munroe stood up and walked towards the door. Before leaving, she turned around and gave Rogue a smile. 'I believe you have forgotten… but God brought you here as well…' She wished Rogue goodnight and slipped out the door.

Rogue stared after her, her lips slightly parted. Yes, God had brought her here, but how was this in any way connected to why Remy was brought here? She felt so confused. Her mind swam with thoughts of him. Even when she had been caring for him while he was unconscious, she found her dreams floating in awareness of him.

But why?

She didn't want him here… and yet she thought of him often. She didn't like knowing that he was living under the same roof, and yet she felt excited whenever she was in his presence.

Why?

What were these feelings inside of her? She groaned, suddenly wishing that she had never met him.

Why did Ah evah bring him inside… she thought, as she fell back into her bed. And then, realizing just how selfish and sinful the very thought of leaving him that night to die was, she jumped out of bed, fell to her knees, and began to pray for forgiveness.

--

A few days later…

It was Sunday, and Remy sat in the third pew from the front of the Church. Sister Munroe was sitting beside him, her face lifted in rapt attention. He followed her gaze up to the podium where Brother Wagner stood, his hands moving in animation as he preached to the congregation. A bored sigh escaped Remy's lips. He liked Brother Wagner a great deal, but he just couldn't understand why the others found his sermons so interesting. If he wasn't so afraid of Sister Munroe's wrath, he would have walked out in the middle of the sermon long ago. He had better things to do than listen to a lecture about a god he didn't believe in. Like taking a nap.

Brother Wagner stopped talking and asked the congregation to rise. Everyone rose at once and began to follow Brother Wagner's lead in a hymn. Remy had been shocked to find, when he had first entered the Church that morning, just how packed it had gotten with the local people. He had spotted Jean with her family and had waved at her. She had waved back with an enthusiastic smile. He recalled her mentioning that she had attended mass at this very Church since she was a child. Remy wondered what it was about religion that kept people so devoted. He had never believed in God and still felt that the whole idea of a supreme being was ridiculous. How could people devote themselves to some being they had never seen before?

Ridiculous.

As the people around him bellowed words of worship, Remy's eyes wandered to the person standing at the pew in front of his, just a few spots over to the right. Her face was lifted towards her brother and her mouth moved to the words of the song. Her palms were turned towards the ceiling, her hands lifted in the air.

A contented sigh escaped Remy's lips as he tilted his head and watched her with extreme satisfaction. Now she was a person he could devote himself to completely.

Every time he saw her, he felt like a blossoming flower; like a poet's poem; like a moonlit sky; like dancing water; like a Christmas fire; like the morning sun; like the life of colour; like the play of birds; like a cool autumn breeze on a hot summer's day…

Every time he saw her, he felt the slow, slow growth of a delicious addiction.

The hymn ended and everyone took their seats. Still, Remy's eyes remained on his angel, his heart beating hard in his chest – as it always did when he thought of her. He had seen her numerous times over the days that had passed since their awkward introduction in his room. She was indeed quite reserved, and he often spotted her alone – just as Sister Betsy had described. But she was not shy. She greeted him when they passed in the halls, and often joined in on the conversations over the dinner table. Remy had noticed that she smiled but rarely, and that she often wore a misty look like one would when daydreaming. She didn't pay him any special attention, but he knew she was still looking after his room. The scent of summer flowers had not faded.

He smiled to himself, as the people around him whispered "Amen". The night before, he had pondered his feelings for the Rogue Sister, and found himself without a conclusion. But he had, much to his satisfaction, decided that he would not allow her devotion to her religion scare him away. So what if she was a nun? In his eyes, she was still very much a woman. If this meant a guaranteed ticket to Hell, then so be it. He didn't believe in Hell anyway. He wanted to be with her. He wanted to have a relationship with her. He was sick of being the casual, wandering guest. He wanted to be her friend – a companion – someone who mattered in her life. Why did he have to look at her as someone untouchable when he didn't believe in the religion in the first place?

He was still gazing at Rogue when people rose and cleared the Church. Sister Munroe nudged him in the ribs and he sat up, suddenly alert.

'Were you sleeping?' she asked him, and the contempt was evident in her voice.

Remy shook his head, peeling his eyes away from the Rogue Sister. The Reverend Mother, having just witnessed his break in concentration, raised her brow at him. She had noticed Remy's fixation with Sister Rose during the sermon. She had seen previous signs as well as the days had passed, and wasn't oblivious to Remy's intentions. She was slightly amused, and also slightly disgruntled. She was disgruntled because she felt that Remy was overstepping his boundaries, and amused because she knew he had no chance. She watched now as Remy left the pew and hurried after Sister Rose as she disappeared behind the door leading back to the convent.

'"He goeth after her straightway, as an ox goeth to the slaughter",' she whispered to herself, with a chuckle.

'What was that?' Sister Betsy had come up behind her.

'Proverbs, chapter 7, verse 22.'

'Great, you're going to make me look that up?'

Sister Munroe chuckled again, shaking her head. 'I have the feeling we will be thoroughly entertained by the feeble attempts of our visitor.'

Sister Betsy raised a curious brow. 'A feeble attempt at what?'

But Sister Munroe didn't say. She merely smiled, and followed the other nuns out of the Church.

--

'I think it all be stupid.' Remy sat back in his chair, his arms folded over his broad chest.

'What is stupid?'

The door to the kitchen opened and in strolled the Reverend Mother, with Sister Rose in tow. Remy sat up and ran a hand quickly through his unkempt hair in a failed attempt to tame it. Sister Munroe pulled out the chair opposite his and sat down. Rogue grabbed a clay mug from off the shelf and moved behind the counter to where Sister Betsy stood. Although Remy was sure she had noticed him, she made no indication that she was aware of his presence.

'Remy was just telling me how foolish I am to be following a worthless religion,' Sister Betsy claimed, flashing a grin at Sister Munroe.

Sister Munroe gave Remy a rather bemused smile. 'Is that so?'

Remy shrugged up his shoulders. 'I was just sayin', petite. There be not'ing spectacular between dis religion and all de ot'ers. Remy not dissing your decisions. He just wonderin' why you made dem.' He was very much aware that Rogue was listening to him, and began to regret his words. He had engaged himself in a conversation with Sister Betsy about religion, after complaining to her how bored he had been during the sermon. But now that Rogue was here, he felt that his words could disappoint her, or even hurt her. He didn't want to do either.

Sister Betsy and Sister Munroe, however, seemed keen that he explain himself.

'Because we have faith,' Sister Munroe said, giving Remy a challenging look. 'I have faith in God. I believe everything happens for a reason, and that we must trust that God will take care of us.'

'Remy doesn't seem to think God does,' Sister Betsy replied, and Remy shifted uneasily in his seat. Yes, he had said as much to her earlier. He dared a look at Rogue, and found her staring at him with an unreadable expression on her face.

'It not be dat…' he said, slowly, staring down at his hands. 'It's jus'… de God never showed me no kindness in life. People, dey talk o' de miracles. Remy will believe it when he sees it.' He shrugged up one shoulder in indifference, hoping that his wayward attitude towards the subject would warrant a change in conversation.

It didn't.

'What a stupid thing ta say!'

Three heads looked up and gazed at Rogue. She had put the mug down. Her hands were now on her hips and she was glaring directly at Remy.

'How can ya say that God's nevah showed you any kindness?!' Her tone was accusatory and Remy wasn't sure how he was supposed to reply. He had never seen such rage in her eyes before. 'How do you think ya ended up here? God saved your life that night and if it wasn't for him, you'd prob'ly be dead!'

Sister Munroe and Sister Betsy exchanged nervous glances as Remy gaped at the Rogue Sister. He opened his mouth to respond, but she cut him off.

'It's selfish, arrogant, blind people like you who have caused such grief in the world. Instead of questionin' why your life sucks, you should dwell on all the good things that have happened to ya.'

'I do recognize dem,' he said, slowly. 'I just don' t'ink some god is responsible. Good t'ings happen to good people, and bad t'ings happen to de bad.'

'An' who do you think decides?'

Remy shrugged.

'Jeez, gimme a break.' Rogue pushed passed the counter and made for the door.

'Where are you going?' Sister Betsy asked, alarmed.

'Ah'm gonna go pray for this man's soul, though Ah'm sure it won't do him any good.' She pulled open the door and slammed it hard behind her.

Remy sat there, appalled. 'What dat be about?'

Sister Munroe gave Remy a soft smile. 'Please forgive Sister Rose. She is very… expressive… when it comes to defending her faith.'

Remy shook his head, still in shock. 'But you and Sister Betsy… you two didn't shoot de Cajun down.'

'We both know that people are different, and that whether you believe in God or not is a reflection of your relationship with Him. Although I would like to believe that you will repent one day, I am more patient with my teachings.' Sister Munroe sighed. 'But Sister Rose is young and passionate. She's also rather… confused.'

'Confused?' Remy raised a curious brow.

'You must remember that Sister Rose was adopted into the Church. I am still unsure how much of her devotion is her own, and how much she has adopted as her own.' Seeing the bewildered expression on Remy's face, she continued. 'Do not misunderstand. Sister Rose is very much devoted to her faith and the lifestyle she has chosen. But she is of that age when she is re-evaluating her purpose in life, and her position in this world.'

Remy sighed. He was getting tired of hearing the same stuff all over again. 'Mebbe I should go talk to her.'

Sister Betsy chuckled. 'Might be a little dangerous to do that right now.'

Remy shrugged. 'For some reason… I want her to know dat I'm not de lost cause she t'inks I be. I don't believe in de god… but dat doesn't mean I'm not ready to listen…'

'You didn't want to listen to Brother Wagner during the sermon today,' Sister Betsy pointed out, and Sister Munroe laughed. 'What makes you want to listen to Sister Rose?'

Remy averted his eyes and felt his cheeks grow red.

'Leave him be,' Sister Munroe said, flashing the other nun a smile. She then turned to Remy. '"A continual dropping in a very rainy day and a contentious woman are alike"(1). Leave Sister Rose alone for now. She will surely regret her temper after some meditation. Do not worry.'

But Remy was worried. He had angered her unintentionally and wasn't prepared to let it be. He was afraid that the Rogue Sister would hold onto her anger and fade away from his existence. What if she reverted back to her secluded, lone self?

Remy watched as both Sister Munroe and Sister Betsy left the kitchen to partake in their evening prayers.

He didn't know much about this God of theirs, but a condemnation by the Rogue Sister was less favourable than God's judgment.

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(1) Proverbs, 27:15