Disclaimer: I don't own X-Men. If I did, Remy would have been in the movie.

This is a little song fic that hit me while I was walking to class today. Takes place after X3, obviously. So here you go. Hope you enjoy.

Song Lyrics

Present

Flash backs

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"Foolish Games"

You took your coat off and stood in the rain,
You're always crazy like that.

As she looked out the window, she thought back to a time when he was in her life. Before he'd left, tearing her heart to pieces.

Rogue always marveled at the way he moved. It wasn't something she told anyone. That she, the untouchable Southern rose, had a thing for the resident ladies man, the Cajun Casanova. He'd arrived at the mansion a mere week after her relationship with Bobby had ended. Two weeks after the cure had failed. And within three days, he'd succeeded in capturing all the female hearts in residence. Except Rogue's. Or so he thought.

She couldn't let him know he'd gotten under her poison skin in a way no other man had ever been able to before. She wouldn't. So she simply watched. From behind a book. From beneath her snow white bangs. Out of the corner of her emerald eyes. But never overly. Never so that he knew. No, that wouldn't be a good idea. Couldn't let him know he'd managed to win her heart as well.

The two of them played games. Remy'd flirt with her and she'd call him Swamp Rat. He'd laugh and pretend to be offended, mortally wounded by her words. But he knew it was a term of endearment, the same way he called her Cherie. He'd try to make her jealous, flirting with her friends, but he never really touched them. But Rogue, she he would touch. A caress across her back. A hand on her shoulder. He knew all about her mutation and he'd still touch her. It meant so much to her.

And I watched from my window,
Always felt I was outside looking in on you.

'Gawd,' she thought as she watched the rain pelt the window pane. 'How could Ah have let him go? Juss let him walk out like tha'?' Her porcelain skin leaned against the cold glass, willing the ache in her heart away.

"Ya be watchin' Remy fer a reason, Cher?" he said smoothly as he came in, shaking the rain off his trademark trench coat. His ever present cocky grin was in place as well, matched by her gentle glare, as he made sure his sunglasses were in place, despite the weather outside.

Her gloved hands rested on her hips. "A bit sure a yerself, ain'tcha, Swamp Rat?" she asked. In truth, she had been watching him as he practiced on the lawn with his Bo staff. His movements had been so graceful, she could hardly believe it. It was hard to tear her eyes from him and she had been afraid he'd seen her.

"Mebbe," he drawled, walking past her and deliberately running his hand over the small of her back, making her shiver.

You're always the mysterious one with
Dark eyes and careless hair,
You were fashionably sensitive
But too cool to care.

His eyes had always stunned her, once she'd actually seen them. At first, she'd wondered why he wore sunglasses so often. She figured it was some tactic to add to the mystery had managed to ooze from every pore of his being. Boy, had she been wrong.

She couldn't resist any longer. It was either ask him about it, or just take matters into her own hands. Rogue decided that maybe she wanted to play with him a little, the way he played with her heart. So when she found him alone in the rec room, watching television, she took her change.

"Bonjour, cherie," he greeted, patting the couch next to him. "Care ta join dis Cajun?" She smiled and nodded. His arm instantly was on the back of the couch, no doubt ready for the moment she let her guard down. She knew he liked to touch.

"Wha'cha watchin', Rems?" she asked, trying to relax her body. It was proving impossible, but she knew she needed to in order to find out for sure. Rumors were running rampant around Xavier's about why the handsome new guy wore sunglasses 24-7. It turned out to be a movie and it took almost half of it for her to finally relax. Then she turned to him and smoothly, before he could stop her, removed his sunglasses and met shocked, exotic eyes.

Being a mutant, she saw all sorts of different physical mutations. But Remy's eyes took the cake. Rubies glowed from onyx schelera with more emotion than she thought were possible. If she'd been able to tear her own jewel-toned eyes from his, she would have noticed his nervousness, the way he swallowed like he was terrified. Finally, he broke the trance she'd been in. "Like wha' ya see, Cher?" And she just stared.

You stood in my doorway, with nothing to say
Besides some comment on the weather.

That was one of the things she remembered, that day. The day she looked into the eyes of the man she loved. That moment was so intense, even his cocky comment couldn't ruin it. Why did she let him go?

She sat at her desk, trying to finish a paper on Pride and Prejudice but that was proving to be next to impossible. Ruby eyes were on her mind, not Elizabeth Bennett and Mr. Darcy. Her page had been blank with the exception of her name for nearly an hour. And then she realized she was being watched.

"Nice weather, dun ya think, cher?" He was leaning against her doorway. Rogue looked to the rain-drenched window and back to the Cajun currently moving into her room.

"Sure, if yer a Swamp Rat." He just smiled and sat on her bed. She turned and they sat in comfortable silence for a few minutes. "Somethin' ya need, Remy?" she asked after a small eternity. The Cajun simply shook his head, his hair falling over his eyes. Which were uncovered. She noticed they stayed that way when they were alone. Just the two of them. She saw something the others didn't. And that made her smile.

Well in case you failed to notice,
In case you failed to see,
This is my heart bleeding before you,
This is me down on my knees, and...

'Ah begged tha' day. Begged him not ta go. Ta stay here wit me. But he didn't. Gawd, Ah wish Ah'd fought harder fer him.'

These foolish games are tearing me apart,
And your thoughtless words are breaking my heart.
You're breaking my heart.

The games they'd played had faded and were replaced with something more meaningful. And as she looked out into the rain, she wished for those times again.

You're always brilliant in the morning,
Smoking your cigarettes and talking over coffee.

He placed a coffee cup in front of her as he sat beside her on the couch. And Rogue snuggled into his side, letting the mug warm her hands and his body warm the rest of her. She heard rather than saw him light a cigarette. Remy had the habit and she'd long since stopped telling him that they would kill him. She got used to the smell, found comfort in it.

He murmured softly in her ear, speaking to her in French. He told her how much he loved her, loved being with her. He described the weather, knowing how she loved to hear him speak in his native tongue. He spoke of the things he'd done, things he wanted to do. Places he wanted to take her.

Your philosophies on art, Baroque moved you.
You loved Mozart and you'd speak of your loved ones
As I clumsily strummed my guitar.

They'd take about art since she was considering taking art history in college. He told her of what he'd seen in the museum in Paris. In London. In New York City. In New Orleans. The great works of the past, architecture. Poems they'd read and loved. Read and hated. And they laughed about it. About Shakespeare. And Keats. And Browning. And they discovered that they both loved English and art more than any of the other subjects in school.

He taught her how to play guitar. And she was horrible at it. For the longest time. But he'd tell her about his life in New Orleans. About his Tante Mattie. About growing up. About his brother. About his father. About Bella. She'd thought she would have been jealous to know he'd been engaged. But surprisingly, she wasn't. Rogue trusted Remy. She loved him. And she worked on the guitar. And slowly improved.

You'd teach me of honest things,
Things that were daring, things that were clean.
Things that knew what an honest dollar did mean.

She remembered everything he'd taught her. All the little lessons. All the life lessons. They way he taught her to touch with out actually touching. He was her life. He taught her to be free. And she let him walk out of her life.

I hid my soiled hands behind my back.
Somewhere along the line, I must've gone
Off track with you.

She looked down at her glove-less hands. Control was something she wanted not only for herself, but also for him. For them. She remembered when she went to tell him.

"Rems?" she called as she knocked on his door and opened it at the same time. It was just how they did things now. Rogue was surprised by the suitcase on his bed. The full suitcase. "Remy?"

He emerged from the bathroom. With a pile of clothes. "Wha's goin' on, Rems?" she asked, arms crossed defensively in front of her. She had a bad feeling about this. About the suitcase. And about the look on his face.

"Remy gotta go, cher. Back to New Orleans." He put the clothes in and zipped it up.

"But why?" she cried, unable to stop herself. He couldn't see her hands, glove-less hands. They were hidden in her armpits, hidden away from the world, from the hurt that was coming.

Well, excuse me, guess I've mistaken you for somebody else,
Somebody who gave a damn,
Somebody more like myself.

'Why did Ah say those hateful things ta him? Did Ah really think it might have changed him leavin'? Was Ah really tha' stupid?'

"So yer juss leavin'? Juss like tha'? Sneakin' out like a coward?" she hissed at him, at his retreating back as he walked down the stairs. As he walked out into the rain. "How can ya juss go an' leave me, Remy? Why? Turn around an' tell me?" she pleaded.

He turned, eyes flashing in the rain. They were soaked in seconds, but neither of them were paying attention. "Remy gotta go, Rogue." Rogue. No French terms of endearment. What was making him do this? Making him leave her? Her emerald eyes swelled with tears.

She watched him load up his bag on the back of his bike. Where she used to sit. And she watched him ride out of her life. Forever. And she just let him. She was the coward. Not him.

You took your coat off,
Stood in the rain,
You're always crazy like that.

Rogue almost missed it. Missed the sound of the motorcycle coming up the drive. But she couldn't miss the figure standing in the rain. With the auburn hair. And the burning eyes.

Remy.

She ran, ran down the stairs, passed the students. Passed the professors. Into the rain. Into his arms.

"Je suis désolé, Cherie. Je suis parti mon coeur ici avec vous. Je suis parti ma vie ici avec vous. J'étais stupide," he murmured into her hair. His trench coat was off and around her shoulder.

She pulled back and he looked like he would cry. But then she spoke. "Shut up and kiss me, ya Swamp Rat," she said as she brought his lips down to hers. And they stood in the rain, soaking wet and wrapped up in each other's arms. Nothing else mattered. They had each other again. That was all they needed.

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I used an online translator, so I'm sure these are proper French terms and not Creole French or what ever it's called. But here they are…

Translations:

Je suis désolé: I am sorry.

Je suis parti mon coeur ici avec vous. Je suis parti ma vie ici avec vous. J'étais stupide: I left my heart here with you. I left my life here with you. I was stupid.

Hope you all enjoyed this little one shot. :) Thanks for reading.