DISCLAIMER: I don't own any of this and I should think that was obvious.

(I didn't really intend to update so soon but I promised Laceylou76 I'd work in a little Romy and a lot of Remy and here's the first installment of that since the last chapter was a little lacking. And yes, she gets another chapter because she reviewed and is therefore fantastic. Deal with it.)

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~Scarlet Letter ~

Fairytales?

She'd brushed out her hair, told Kurt she wanted to be alone for the evening when he'd offered to watch From Hell with her, and she was just lying on her bed answering a text from Pietro on the progress of Wanda's evening when she happened to glance up at the French windows leading to the balcony where she'd had a perfect view of the full moon for the last two hours. This was now obscured by the silhouette of someone sitting cross-legged on the stone railing that was meant to keep balcony-goers from toppling over the edge onto the lawn two floors underneath it. She emitted a muted shriek of terror before falling off her bed in a terribly undignified manner and then jumping up again, ready to fight, run, or scream for Logan as the situation called for. Gambit swung his legs over the railing and looked at her with a smirk, red eyes boring into her.

"Jesus Christ, Remy, y' bout gave me a heart attack!" she hissed, leaping for the catch to the windows and letting him in, shoving him behind her, and he stifled a chuckle and instead moderated his tone to the very embodiment of heartfelt apology.

"Remy so sorry, chere, y' forgot he promise t' come see y' tonight?" Rogue gave him a half-hearted glare and pushed him into a sitting position on the edge of her bed while she pulled up her desk chair.

"Ah didn' ferget, Ah didn' count on you makin' it past all the lasers," she said huffily, and he did chuckle this time.

"Chere, y' talkin' about lasers t' a man dat broke into de Pentagon an' made it out undetected," he said wryly, and she had to smile.

"Ah guess... Y' owe me a bedtime story, Cajun." He made a face.

"Remy guesses he can' jus' flirt his way outta dat one, hein?"

"Ya damn raght." Her face was set and he groaned and ran a hand through his hair.

"Why'd ya let it grow lahke that?" she asked suddenly, and he grinned at her through his gloved fingers.

"Y' change y' mind about y' story, ma belle chere? Wanna talk abou' how easy it is t' forget t' go for a haircut instead?" he teased, and she rolled her eyes.

"Just curious. Tell me the story." He took a deep breath and then seemed to regain a little of his swagger.

"De kiddie-friendly version?" She stared him down.

"Talk or I'm calling Logan. And we know how that will end." He shuddered at the thought and held up both hands to appease her and hopefully prevent anymore threats. He took a deep breath and started his narrative.

"Well den ma chere, once upon a time dere was a knight in a stunnin' trench coat. He was employed by a piece o' shit who believed in mutant supremacy. All dis knight believed in was money an' doin' tings his own way. De illegal way, usually. Anyhow, dis fucker who'd employed him decided ta go head t' head wit a mutant who already had himself pegged for Supreme Mutant an' suddenly dis knight ain' got no job an' ain' invited to de face-off wit de psychotic zombie ben' on destroyin' mankind an' replacin' it wit mutant-kind. So de knight sets out t' do de only ting dat makes sense." She raised an eyebrow.

"Drink?" Remy laughed a little before putting his serious-face back on and saying,

"Non, ma chere. He set out t' make sure dat when de heroes were done destroyin' de zombie mutant from hell, dere wouldn' be any loopholes f'r him t' jump righ' back out of." Rogue looked at him with dawning understanding in her face.

"Dis zombie character, de knigh' figures he ain' stupid - he gotta have himself a way out in case sometin' don' go well wit de firs' plan, hein? Y' ain' no master villain unless y' lef' y'self a way out. An' he was righ'. Dere were loopholes. A lot of loopholes. So dis 'ere knigh' set out t' destroy each an' every one before de heroes were done doin' dere part, hopin' he'd make it before dey thought dey'd done dat zombie guy good an' he jus' turned up again cos someone fergot t' check if de' freak left de' back door open." Rogue just kept looking at him.

"Y've no idea how many places he left a back door open, chere..." Remy trailed off, and she narrowed her eyes at him.

"So – y'all mean ta tell me y' spen' all that tahme jus' runnin' round the world makin' sure Apocalypse stayed gone?" Remy winced at her tone.

"Oui, chere, dat's de way it was... Remy never could tell a story," he tried to lighten the tension her angry stare was causing, but to little avail. She punched his arm - hard.

"Why didn' you tell us? We woulda helped you! Y' wanted ta run around playin' the hero y' coulda helped us t' start with! Y' shouldn' have gone by yerself y crazy Swamp Rat! What if somethin' happened t' you? What if that controlling megalomaniac thing had booby-traps laid out? What if you died somewhere, alone and no one else knew what you'd been doing so you'd be the only one who knew about the backdoors and all that shit and – and – " Remy sighed and took her bare hand, placing it on his own cheek before she could protest. He felt the drain and pulled away quickly to ensure he didn't pass out. He reckoned the estimate was spot on – touch of wooziness, no loss of motor functions – but Rogue had both her hands over her eyes, mouthing things and shaking her head like there were mosquitoes about.

There were a thousand images fighting for first bid in her head and she had to try and sort them before they overwhelmed her, and as she pieced together the puzzle of his memories, she found herself understanding more than she really felt ready to. He had gone because of what she had said. Doing the wrong things for the right reasons. He had packed up, leaving no word behind but a cryptic note for Pyro and a message for his cousin that he might need assistance with info shortly and gone on a world tour to bring down any chance Apocalypse could ever have of returning.

Destruction of precious historical artifacts, breaking into some of the world's most elusive private collector's most fantastical private collections, lying, cheating and threatening his way into anywhere and everywhere that could give him an answer to the whereabouts of the next loophole – he'd truly dedicated himself to it. And then she saw it – tucked away into the other memories, something she was certain he hadn't meant to include. She heard him calling her beyond the murmur of countless voices in her head, narrating his doings, and she phased him out, focusing on the memory tat had so surprised her – shocked her even.

Jolting out of her stolen reminiscences, she looked at him as levelly as she could manage and said, "Ah get it. Thank you." The Cajun smiled, obviously relieved, at her and said,

"Remy'd do it again in a second, ma chere – an now he tinks he better go, non? Y' wanted a bedtime story, an y' got one, as promised – by now your Wolverine migh' be lookin' fer de intruder an Remy would rather be a long way from here when he starts sniffin'," he joked, and Rogue smiled too, forcing the persistent memories back.

"Yeah... ya better go, Remy... Ah'll see ya 'round..." she tried so hard to keep the weirdness out of her voice but it snuck in there somehow and she could feel her poker-face slipping.

"Chere... De tings Remy's done over de years... Dey don' mean anytin' – dey're not –" Rogue shook her head and looked at him, the concern and – was it fear? – in his demonic eyes, and he fell silent.

"It's all just – a little overwhelmin' – okay? Ah'll see ya... Raght now Ah wanna be alone. Ah'd lahke a little tahme ta think about everythang ya showed me." He looked at her intensely for a second, and it seemed to her that his eyes glowed, and then a look of – was it confusion? – flitted across his face before he smoothed it over with a dose of bravado and stood up, kissing her hand in that old-fashioned, oh-so-suave way.

"Remy be around, ma belle, he ain' goin' nowhere..." he said softly, before taking a running jump out of her French windows and off the balcony's stone railing and making good his escape. She sat there for a moment, looking at the open doors and the outline of the moon in all her glory, and then sank into the memory completely.

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She was lying in a hospital bed, both arms bandaged to above her elbows, liquid fire seeming to sear through every crack in her whenever she breathed, but she knew that Rogue would be proud of her. This had all been to prove her right – that she could do the wrong things for the right reasons and not have to use anyone to do it. That she could be a good person. She knew she'd heal fast enough and then she could check herself out - at night, preferably, when no one would make a fuss. She'd go back to Bayville and look John up, assuming he was still there. If he wasn't she'd find him. They could start again together, compare burn scars. She'd have to ask him if he'd ever had his lungs fried, but knowing John he'd probably just ask awkward questions. No, she'd go back to Bayville and seek out Rogue. Find a way to make sure she was alright. Find a way to ensure she'd never have to deal with anything ever again...

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The memory ended abruptly and Rogue felt that odd, almost out-of-body feeling that came with fully entering into someone else's memories. She felt herself settle into her own body again and hen she felt secure in it she pondered what she had just experienced. He had come back for her? So it hadn't just been a coincidence... He had done it all on purpose, probably engineered the whole thing. Just to make her life easier? It couldn't be true. He'd been in a hospital after nearly being blown up in the final stage of his 'destroy-Apocalypse's-way-in' mission – they'd probably had him on every painkiller known to man and she knew from experience that they could give you some very strange ideas... It wasn't just that she couldn't believe he'd comeback for her sake, it was that she couldn't believe he'd bother doing any of the things he'd done. It just seemed too surreal. Luckily, to save her from further obsessing, at that moment her phone rang. The screen claimed it was Wanda, and she felt a surge of relief. She must be feeling better then, if she was up to talking to someone. She answered it with a strained but cheery, "Hey sugah!" knowing better than to brood on earlier events lest Wanda become moody again.

"Rogue...? I'm in love with it." Rogue had to sit up straight at that.

"You're what honeypie? Ah don't think Ah –"

"I'm in love with Pyro's book, Gods have mercy, and I need the sequel. You have to read it. Come over tomorrow?" Rogue almost laughed. This was her Wanda, intense, confusing, and not a little demanding.

"Anythang ya want honey, Ah'll be there. Is it really that good?" Wanda hesitated, then sighed.

"It's better than anything we've read this year. You have to come get the sequel with me tomorrow and then we'll swap when you're done with this one."

"But sugah – does he write the way he acts? Ah gotta know if it's as wacked out as he is," Rogue warned, and Wanda laughed on the other end.

"I don't know what he's really like, Rogue, I never really met him, but if he wrote this then he can't be all bad... See you tomorrow?" Rogue smiled fondly.

"Definitely. Sleep well sugah." Wanda murmured a ditto in response and hung up, and Rogue felt at peace once more. Cajuns be damned, it would all work itself out in the end. The Rogue had things to do.