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: Merry Christmas, all!

-X-

Chapter #7: Temptuous Rogue
"No temptation has seized you except what is common to man. And God is faithful; he will not let you be tempted beyond what you can bear."
- 1 Corinthians 10:13

Rogue leaned her head against the glass of the window in her room. She was sitting sideways on the bench, her knees pulled up under her chin. She watched as her breath steamed the window. She watched the steam disappear. She watched as her breath steamed the window again.

Her heart felt heavy. Her mind was tired, but her eyes refused to shut the world out. Whenever she tried to think of a solution to this problem, she ended up recoiling more into herself.

She felt weakened after her admittance to Remy, and she was not quite sure how to recover. She squeezed her eyes shut, as if by doing so she could squeeze Remy's face from her mind.

She wanted children.

Up until now she had no idea that there was a desire within her for children, or that there was a future she longed for aside from her impending path. With this realization came the natural admittance that this desire for another future had always been there… buried within her. Why, then, after so many years of existence did this desire reveal itself in front of Remy?

There was a knock at the door. And then the door opened without an answer and Sister Munroe glided into the room. Rogue knew she was there without looking up. 'You brought cookies.'

Sister Munroe placed the plate of maple cookies onto the bedside table. 'They are still warm.' Sister Munroe sat on the bed and faced Rogue with a stern, but kind face. 'My child, you can talk to me.'

Rogue bit down on her bottom lip, her eyes focused on the cookies, her mind focused on her constricting heart. 'No… Ah can't…'

Sister Munroe let out a deep, heavy sigh. She lifted her hands and pulled off the veil on her head, freeing herself of the constraint. Long white curls fell around her shoulders. 'You can. I will listen as only a friend who loves you.'

Rogue sat silent for a while and Sister Munroe waited patiently. Then, without warning, Rogue stood from the bench by the window, walked towards the bed, sat down beside her friend, and lay sideways to place her head on the Reverend Mother's lap.

Sister Munroe's lips curved into a smile as she loosened the veil around Rogue's head. 'It has been a long while since you have laid your head here.' She pulled the veil free and patted Rogue's luscious locks affectionately.

'There's comfort here,' Rogue said, in a hushed tone. 'It's safe here.'

'Safe? From what?'

Rogue shrugged and nestled her face further into Sister Munroe's lap.

'When God made Woman,' Sister Munroe began, sliding her fingers through Rogue's hair, 'he made her for Man.' She noticed the stillness settling in Rogue and knew that the young nun was listening. 'And in turn, Man found that he could not live without Woman. Do you understand?' She could feel Rogue nodding in her lap. 'And?'

'But we're diff'rent, you an' Ah…'

'I have made a different choice, yes.'

Rogue sat up and stared intently into Sister Munroe's eyes, her hair falling into her face. 'So have Ah.'

Sister Munroe shook her head. 'I was given a choice, Rogue. What was your other option?'

Rogue scowled, her fists clenching into balls. 'Why are ya forcing me to go against everythin' ya taught me ta believe in?!'

'Am I forcing you, child?' Sister Munroe replied, careful not to let Rogue's anger deter her.

'Ain't ya? Shouldn't you be tellin' me that mah thoughts are sins and that Ah need ta meditate and pray and overcome them?'

'Why would I tell you that your thoughts are sinful when they are not?' Sister Munroe replied, as she lifted her fingers and pulled a strand of Rogue's hair out of her face. 'Be honest with me, dearest, so that I may help you be honest with yourself.' Sister Munroe could see the tears fill Rogue's eyes. She patted her lap, and Rogue laid her head back upon it. 'Tell me.'

'Ah… Ah feel uneasy,' Rogue began, and Sister Munroe could feel Rogue's turmoil in the staggering of her breath. 'Ah'm confused. The Church is the only home Ah know… but now Ah'm wondering what's beyond…'

'What is beyond our life here?'

'What is beyond what Ah know…. Ah have these feelings… and thoughts about the future… and they scare me. So I try ta suppress them.'

'Do these thoughts feel wrong?'

Rogue shook her head. 'No…'

Sister Munroe smiled to herself, and thread her fingers gently and affectionately through Rogue's hair. 'It is not a sin to wonder about the future, especially when you are so young and have yet to experience what the world holds for you.'

'Ah know what the world holds for me.'

'You think you do.'

Rogue's body stiffened. 'Ah do know!'

Sister Munroe sighed. 'Listen to me, Sist—' She paused. 'Rogue.' Rogue sat up and looked into Sister Munroe's kind eyes. 'It is not a sin to think of a future unknown to you. It is not a sin to explore feelings that are new. You have not said your solemn vows. You need not deny yourself the freedom you deserve to discover.'

'But—' Rogue interrupted, but Reverend Mother raised a hand.

'Rogue,' she said, with such finality that the young nun halted her words. 'The only lie you are making is the one to yourself.' She raised her hand and cupped Rogue's cheek, caressing it so gently that Rogue could feel her eyes brim with tears. 'For the first time in your life you have been given a choice. God has given you a choice. Do not be afraid. You are good. You are kind. You are loyal. You will not disappoint Him.' She smiled and it radiated through her eyes.

'O, Sister Munroe…' Rogue said, because it was the only thing she could say.

-X-

The summer breeze faded into an autumn glow and just as smoothly drifted into a winter flutter. Icicles hung from the eaves of the church while snow blanketed the branches of the forest trees. The school in the village had closed for the season, which resulted in the popping up of snowmen, snow angels, and snow forts mounted with various sized snowballs.

The gardens on the church grounds were now vast, untouched winter-lands, but inside the stone walls the fires were lit and the delicious tastes of cinnamon and caramel swam tantalizingly in the air.

On this particular afternoon the church was empty save the frazzled cook and her two unwilling apprentices.

'I really do enjoy the Christmas season,' Sister Betsy was saying, as she threw her second batch of burnt caramel drops into the sink. 'But when you ask me to bake enough treats for all the village children, and then leave me alone with it all, don't expect a helping of Christmas cheer.'

'You not be alone, petite,' Remy chuckled, as he attempted to roll out the dough of future buttermilk cookies. 'De Brother and de Reverand Mot'er had to collect de gifts for de children but de Sister Rose and de Cajun still be at your service.'

'An' no one asked you ta bake all this. Y'all volunteered,' Rogue added, while adding little gumdrops to her batch of gingerbread angels.

Sister Betsy huffed. 'Can't a nun be allowed to "bah humbug" for a bit of dramatic flare?'

Remy caught Rogue's eye and the two tried to stifle their laughter. 'I don't t'ink a nun be allowed de flare,' Remy replied, and in response got a handful of flour in his hair. ''Eh!'

Sister Betsy clapped energetically at her perfect aim. 'Ha! That'll be enough lip from you, you vagabond,' she laughed.

Remy made an attempt to dust the flour out of his hair, but only succeeded in spreading the mess to his face and shoulders. He looked up and saw Rogue attempting to smother a chuckle. He gave her an exasperated smirk. She looked away, breaking eye contact.

'Ya got some on your nose,' she said, without looking at him.

He raised a hand and dusted the flour from his nose. The flour floated down, dusting a few of her cookies. She looked up at him, annoyance in her eyes and a pout on her lips.

'W'at? Did I get some on you?' he asked, innocently.

She scrunched up her face at him and continued with her decorating. Sister Betsy, now caramelizing her third cup of sugar, watched the interaction between the two with budding curiosity.

'You actually have some batter on yo' face, chere,' Remy said, his eyes still on Rogue.

'Where?' she said, putting down the pouch of icing with a sigh. She wiped her cheek with the back of her hand.

'Not there,' Remy said, slowly. He reached up and smoothed his thumb over her chin, the top of his thumb brushing along the bottom of her pouting lips. Rogue instinctively stepped back, her eyes trained on his. 'Dere.' Remy smiled, bringing his thumb to his own lips.

Sister Betsy stared, open-mouthed, her third pot of caramel burning on the stove. She quickly noticed the clenching of Rogue's fists and decided to intervene before things truly got messy.

'Ahem, Remy,' she said, hurriedly, 'I need some ice. Can you get some for me?'

'Ice?' Remy said, still staring into those shimmering emerald eyes. 'W'at for?'

'To cool my temper if you don't go get some,' she exclaimed. 'I need to make some iced tea, what else?'

'Sure, petite,' Remy said, and Sister Betsy was relieved to see Remy move from the table. 'Where is it?'

'Outside.'

Remy looked through the backdoor window at the swirling snow piling up against the back wall, and then looked at Sister Betsy in disbelief. 'You serious?'

Sister Betsy shrugged. 'I need ice. There's ice outside.' She smirked as Remy sighed and made his way towards the back door. 'Besides, you could use some cooling down,' she said under her breath, as he stepped outside. A burst of snowflakes flew in before he closed the door behind him, the flakes instantly melting on the warm stone floor.

'Now that was entertaining,' she said, turning back to the Rogue Sister.

Rogue was icing the gingerbread angels, the only indication of any recent scandal being the deep blush on her cheeks.

'Annoyin', ya mean,' she said, clearly irritated.

'Is he always like that around you?' Sister Betsy asked, forgetting her place at the stove and siting down at the table with Rogue.

Rogue didn't look up. 'Like what?'

'Oh I don't know,' Sister Betsy said, a little impatiently. 'Playful, a little flirty. Husky.'

This time Rogue looked up. 'What on earth is "husky"?'

Sister Betsy laughed. 'I'm not sure, actually. It just sounds like the right word to use to describe all the sexual tension that just recently heated up this kitchen.'

'Sister Betsy!' Rogue stared at the other nun in shock.

'Sexual tension in a Convent's kitchen? Talk about good timing.' Jean walked in through the back door, bundled tightly in a wooly winter coat, scarf, and mittens. Her nose and cheeks were red from the cold and a puddle was forming around her snowcapped boots. 'I just came by to help with the baking... but something sounds sacrilegious.'

'Something sacrilegious is definitely afoot!' Sister Betsy explained, while offering Jean her chair. She went to the door and gazed out the window. 'Did you see Remy on your way over?'

'Yes, he was looking for some clean ice,' Jean said, taking off her mittens and pulling the scarf from around her neck. 'He seemed a bit preoccupied.'

'I bet he did.' Sister Betsy pulled away from the table and sat down next to Jean. She looked at Rogue. 'By a dainty chin, I'd guess.'

Rogue stared at Sister Betsy, clearly disgruntled. 'Will ya stop?'

'Stop what?' Jean asked innocently. 'Does this have anything to do with the sexual tension Sister Betsy was mentioning?'

Rogue groaned.

Four months had passed since her conversation with Sister Munroe regarding her inner feelings about an unknown future. Since then she had allowed herself a small space within which to contemplate her feelings. However, with the ever-determined presence of Remy and the curious, penetrating eyes of her friends, she found it difficult to avoid an awkward, nervous disposition. She had allowed herself to accept Remy and his place at the convent, but this acceptance brought with it Remy's inescapable charm and daunting attraction. Remy had noticed her change in constitution and seemed determined to take advantage of it.

At first Rogue thought he would be satisfied with her hesitative friendship. And at first it seemed that he was. However, as their interactions increased, Rogue began to feel a little flutter in her stomach when he looked at her a certain way, or when his eyes strained to tell her something she would not allow his lips to say. He was around her more often, and although she was becoming comfortable in his presence, this comfort also came with the reddening of her cheeks and the quickening of her pulse whenever he was too near. And he was beginning to get too near too often.

Although she tried desperately to free herself from any guilt, she often ran to the Reverend Mother for confirmation and guidance. And the Reverend Mother, patiently and lovingly, soothed Rogue's tormented soul against her own better judgment. The other nuns, although not consulted over this matter, were very much aware of Remy's feelings towards Rogue and were surprisingly supportive. They shared Sister Munroe's sentiments regarding Rogue's situation: although they did not intend to encourage Rogue to denounce her duty as a nun, she was still a novice and they felt it only fair that she explore the options previously denied her.

Now, four months after his fated arrival, Remy had managed to create a situation in which his otherwise peaceful companions could now thoroughly entertain themselves.

'You know, I feel kind of blasphemous saying the word "sexual" here…' Jean added, shamefacedly.

'Then stop saying it,' Rogue replied, a little too briskly.

'What about temptuous,' Sister Betsy supplied, grinning.

'That's not even a word,' Jean laughed. 'But it seems fitting.'

Rogue scowled at them. 'Y'all are upsetting me.'

Sister Betsy and Jean instantly straightened their faces and turned to look at her with guilt in their eyes.

'I'm sorry, Sister Rose,' Jean said, frowning, 'I was only teasing. Forgive me.'

'Ah wasn't tempting him,' Rogue added, defensively. 'He just does things of his own accord.'

Sister Betsy smiled. 'Of course he does. We can all attest to the fact that you don't purposely provoke his man-ish ways.'

Jean nodded in honest agreement, but Rogue titled her head, contemplating Sister Betsy's words. 'Do Ah accidently provoke him?' she asked.

Sister Betsy and Jean exchanged looks, both unsure how to breach this topic.

'Jean, perhaps you're more suited to handle that question, being married and everything,' Sister Betsy said, throwing the responsibility to her friend.

Jean frowned. She looked into Rogue's eyes and gave her a half smile. 'Sometimes just being in the presence of someone a man finds attractive is provocation enough.'

'But Ah don't do anythin',' Rogue said, frowning.

Jean smiled. 'You don't have to, Sister Rose. Remy's just found something in you that he hasn't found in anyone else.'

'Which is what?'

'Well, I don't know,' Jean said. 'It would be very personal and specific to him. Somehow he finds you desirable.' She reached across the table and grabbed Rogue's hand. 'Which is not so hard to believe, you know.'

Rogue pulled her hand away, frowning. 'This is a problem.'

Sister Betsy nodded. 'Yup. But not such a terrible problem.'

'It is a terrible problem,' Rogue argued, vehemently.

'W'at's a terrible problem?' Remy walked in through the back door, carrying a block of fresh ice. He nodded at Jean while looking inquisitively between Sister Betsy and Rogue.

'You are,' Rogue said, curtly. She got up and exited the kitchen without a second glance at her gingerbread angels.

'W'at did I do now?' Remy asked, depositing the ice into the sink.

Sister Betsy shook her head at him. 'Like you really don't know.'

Remy's reply was a sheepishly naughty smile.

-X-

Rogue's feet crunched over the soft snow as she made her way to the small forest that outlined the furthest corner of the Convent's grounds. She could hear the sound of a heavy axe against frozen bark echoing through the cold air and knew that it was Remy chopping wood for their evening fire.

The cold, bare branches brushed against her cloak as she cautiously moved deeper into the forest, stopping periodically to pick some holly off the trees. The bag that hung from her shoulder was filled with such ornamental sprigs. Although the Church was adorned with Christmas spirit, the Convent remained bare but for the seasonal scents erupting from the kitchen throughout the day. However, the nuns were not adverse to a little green and red, and so Rogue had trekked out into the cold to collect some holly to adorn their empty rooms.

As she picked her way among the trees, she came upon a small bird chirping wildly amidst the jutting roots of a large tree. Rogue kneeled down cautiously and realized that the tiny bird was an infant Black Capped Chickadee.

'Poor thing…' She looked up, shielding her eyes from the blazing sun, and saw a small nest nestled high in the branches of the old tree. The bird must have fallen.

Carefully, she urged the bird into the palm of her hand. It obliged, but chirped loudly and frantically, wobbling precariously on the padding of her glove. 'Be calm,' Rogue urged, as she dropped the bag of holly on the snow-covered leaves. She deposited the bird into the inner pocket of her cloak. It wiggled about, but ceased its incessant chirping.

Taking a deep breath, Rogue grabbed a branch and pulled herself up into the tree. As a child she had been fond of climbing trees and was quite good at it – but she had never climbed one as an adult… and she had never climbed a tree slick with ice and snow.

Slowly, she climbed higher and higher, taking her time in establishing her footing and mindful of the little warm bundle in her pocket. The nest was drawing nearer, and although her feet slipped a few times, she managed to regain her grip each time.

'Almost… there…' She hoisted herself up on what seemed like a sturdy branch and found herself eyelevel with the bird's nest. She hooked her arm over another branch to steady herself, and then fished in her pocket with her free hand for the little bird. She pulled it out and deposited the little Chickadee into the nest. Its feathers were rather ruffled but otherwise the tiny bird seemed quite pleased with itself. Rogue smiled as the bird hopped about the nest and then nicked happily at her fingertips. 'Now don't go fallin' outta the tree again,' Rogue said, making a failed attempt at smoothing the bird's feathers. She looked down at the ground below. 'Ah wish Ah could fly….' It had only just occurred to her how high she had actually climbed. She unhooked her arm from the branch, but before she could lift herself from the larger branch, her robe caught on a sharp twig. She tugged herself free, but in the process applied too much pressure on the branch supporting her weight. It splintered with a deafening crack and suddenly Rogue was falling rapidly towards the cold ground.

'Rogue!'

From the corner of her eye Rogue could make out a flurry of movement below, and then she slammed against a strong, warm body. Suddenly she was rolling in the cold snow with arms, chest, and body coveting her from the impact of the hard ground. In a blur of hair, gasping breaths, and bright red orbs, she finally came to a stop. She was panting as she stared up at the alarmed face hovering inches from her, her body pinned to the ground beneath his.

'Chere! You okay?' His breath was hot against her face, his breathing ragged with adrenaline. 'Are you hurt?'

Rogue closed her eyes, painfully aware of the ache in her body but thankful that nothing seemed broken. 'Ah'm… fine… Ah think…' She could feel Remy's heart pounding hard against her chest. The snow beneath her was beginning to melt from the heat radiating from their bodies. 'Wet…'

Suddenly aware of his position on top of her, Remy lifted himself up carefully, and then helped Rogue up into a sitting position. His eyes raked over her quickly, assessing her wounds. She had a few cuts on her face and neck, but otherwise seemed unharmed. He let out a sigh of relief.

'W'at be your business climbing dat tree?' he asked, clearly upset.

'There… was a bird…' she said, trying to remember. She touched her forehead, where a small bump was forming.

'Oh, chere….' He brushed her hand aside and examined the reddening bump.

Rogue watched his face as he examined her, suddenly aware of the tenderness in his expression. 'If ya hadn't come just in time…'

'Shhhhh,' he cooed, moving his deft fingers to the cut above her eye, and Rogue suddenly realized that he must have been watching her. The thought made her blush. 'We both know de branches around dese parts have a mind of dere own.'

Rogue laughed in spite of herself. 'We need ta stop fallin' into eachother.'

'Oh… I don't know, chere…' he said, softly. His fingers moved down to caress her cheek. 'I like falling into you…'

Rogue could feel her heart pounding somewhere deep in her chest. Her lips parted as Remy brought his face closer to hers. There was such longing in his eyes. Rogue's body began to tremble – not because of the cold, but because of a yearning desire to melt into his warmth.

'No…!' Her eyes widened with the shock of her own revelation. She placed her hands on his chest and pushed him back. Startled, Remy stood up as Rogue got to her feet, but they were both so tangled in her robes that she stumbled into his chest. He held her up with his strong arms, his hands on the small of her back. 'Let me go,' she warned, trembling uncontrollably.

'If you want me to…' Remy whispered, his lips grazing her neck.

Rogue exhaled, her body suddenly alive with a passion she had never felt before. Afraid of her own actions, she pulled herself free of him and, her bottom lip trembling, she turned and fled towards the Convent as fast as her aching body would allow.

Remy stared after her, his heart beating loudly against his chest. He had seen it, that look in her eyes just before she fled.

Keep me as the apple of the eye, hide me under the shadow of thy wings (1).

His fate was sealed.

-X-

(1) Proverbs 17:8