Standing On the Edge of Summer

Marches and Maneuvers

Rogue's foot tapped anxiously as the final minutes of her agonizing detention dwindled down. For what seemed like the 108th time, she ran through her mental checklist.

1). Call Kitty and tell her not to wait up for me. At the sound of her high pitched shrieks, feign a bad reception and hang up.

2). Promptly turn off phone.

3). Dodge any signs of the elusive Shadowcat while crossing school grounds.

4). Rendevous with Remy off campus at designated point.

5). Exchange quick hellos before booking it out of here to wherever his apartment is so as to avoid being seen with an Acolyte in public.

She sighed inwardly, unsure of how the whole "going to Remy's apartment" thing was going to work. Sure, she trusted him – or at least she thought she did, based on their friendship six years ago and his confession in the car almost two weeks before, but there were things that made her second guess herself. Ya know, like the time he kidnapped me. Then again… he did show remorse for that… But this was his apartment they were talking about here! That was going to be a tough one to explain if she were to get caught.

Sorry, Logan. Ah was just wanderin' around an' happened ta find mahself in the secret apartment of one of the Acolytes. Gambit's a cool kid; you'd like him if you'd take your claws away from his chest foh one minute. Hey, did ya know that Ah knew him so many years ago? You don't care an' you're goin' ta kill him anyway? Raht…

However, that concern aside, Rogue was genuinely curious of how Remy kept up the place. The guy was barely twenty but came from a family with exquisite taste – she'd learned that from the few times she'd been in the LeBeau estate. Would he have a myriad of collectables that he and his family had stolen over the years? Had he furnished it himself with things he'd obtained since coming up north? Or would it be simple and nondescript? Maybe he just went there to get away and didn't see the need of decorating it elaborately…

She snapped out of her mental reverie at the sound of the moderator announcing she and her fellow detainees were free to go. With a nervous sigh, Rogue grabbed her bag and threw it over her shoulder. She cautiously exited the room, effortlessly evading any brushed contact with the other students eager to leave. It always morbidly fascinated her how she managed to unconsciously avoid even the slightest of human contact over the past few years since her powers had manifested. It wasn't something she was proud of, but she couldn't say that she didn't mind that her body reacted in such a way in a tight situation.

She watched over her shoulder while exiting through one of the side doors. No sign of Kitty. So far, so good, she sighed. She dug into her jacket pocket for her phone, noticing that she already had missed a call as she caught sight of the screen on it. Keeping her pace around the campus' side lot, she flipped it open and saw that Kitty had already tried to call her. With the girl's name highlighted, Rogue groaned as she pressed call on the phone.

It rang once. "Hey, Rogue!" Kitty greeted cheerfully.

Oh, mah gawd, she actually sounds like she's happy. "… You're a little chipper foh a girl who reluctantly attended detention," Rogue commented warily.

"Yeah, I know. Mr. Connor let me help out with some things around class instead of sitting bored out of my mind for an hour. It got me some extra credit so, yeah, I'm totally in a good mood!" Kitty chirped.

"Ever the brown noser…" Rogue chuckled before her tone sobered. "Hey, listen… Ah'm headin' inta town foh a little bit. Ah need out of the institute, if ya know what Ah mean."

"But, Rogue-"

"Kit, Ah'm not askin' foh you ta cover foh me, Ah'm just lettin' ya know Ah won't be back raht away. If anyone asks, tell them ya haven't heard from me."

Rogue heard her friend sigh exasperatedly into the phone. "Then why are you, like, bothering to tell me at all?" Kitty snapped.

Rogue sighed. "Because Ah didn't want ta disappear on you again. Ah didn't want ya ta worry 'bout me so Ah'm givin' you the head's up."

"Am I supposed to be flattered?"

Rogue paused thoughtfully before responding, "…Yes? Because Ah know ya worry like crazy an' Ah care enough about our friendship ta not do that to ya… again?" She found herself crossing her gloved fingers as she crossed the road to the strip of small businesses and apartments across from the school.

"… How long will you be out?" Kitty asked tentatively.

Rogue was astonished. Is she actually bein' calm about this? "Not long. Ah'll try ta be back by four."

"Okay… but where are you going anyway?"

"Ah'm not even sure," she partially lied. "Ah figure Ah'll just wander ta get mah head clear."

She could hear Kitty sigh into the phone. "Alright, but just be careful, okay? And promise me you'll leave your phone on and not on silent!"

Rogue smiled and mentally scratched off number two on her list. "Sure. Just don't go insane like last time with the phone calls."

Kitty laughed. "Don't give me reason to. Four o'clock, got it?"

"All raht, Kit. Thank you."

"Be careful," she repeated firmly.

She emerged from the alley onto the sidewalk where other citizens of Bayville were milling about and enjoying their Saturdays. "Will do. See ya later." She flipped the phone shut and slipped it back into her pocket. She walked along the street casually, her gray-green eyes scanning for Remy. She didn't know where he'd be, but somehow she knew he'd pull off being inconspicuous.

She strolled along the street, her hair veiling her face to keep her shielded from random pedestrians. It was an easy way to avoid someone giving her trouble for being one of those mutants from TV – if they couldn't see her face, they couldn't bother her, even though she knew she was kidding herself by trying to melt into the crowd. Usually people recognized her due to her distinctive hair, but they would shy away from her or just whisper after they passed her by. Sometimes Rogue preferred confrontation to the passive aggressiveness though. It was just more straightforward to yell at someone for being a bigot instead of listening to the hushed insults as they passed her by.

She glanced around, hoping to see Remy somewhere. Her skin itched underneath her layers of clothing as she began to grow anxious when she didn't see him. What if he fohgot? What if he changed his mind? Wait… what if he had a mission ta go on that he didn't mention?

As her thoughts ran away with her, a rumbling came down the street. She turned and saw a bright yellow Suzuki roaring down the otherwise quiet suburban street. Her eyes widened. "He didn't…" she muttered in awe.

"He didn't what?" a smooth and unmistakably familiar voice said close to her ear. The smell of cigarettes hung in the air around him and tangled itself in her nose as she breathed evenly.

Rogue jumped and whipped around with a startled squeak. "Don't sneak up on a girl like that!" she hissed as she stepped back from him. Ah don't think he realizes what he's doin' when he gets that close ta me!

Remy smiled sheepishly. "Sorry, chére. Did y' t'ink dat was me?" he asked, nodding his head down the road to where the loud motorbike had disappeared.

"Maybe, but Ah figured ya wouldn't make an entrance like that since we're tryin' ta keep this low key." She said stuffily as her gaze drifted down to his hand where a cigarette dangled from his fingers. "Since when do ya smoke?"

He shrugged casually. "It's a habit I picked up from Henri. Kinda got worse as I grew up…" He took a quick drag and flicked the cigarette into the street. "Can' risk y' smellin' like a bar so I wanted t' get it out of de way b'fore I saw y'."

"How considerate," she muttered flatly. "Ya shouldn't smoke. It's gross."

"T'anks, maman," he smirked. "Shall we?" He motioned down the street to where his own bike was parked. Rogue walked slightly behind him as he led her to his parking spot. Her eyes lit up as she caught sight of it.

"Is that a…"

"Harley, oui." Remy watched as an awestruck Rogue stepped up to the deep red motorcycle and ran her hand along the leather seat. "A custom Dyna FXDI35 Super Glide, t' be exact."

"Ya know, Ah figured you ta be a Harley boy," she remarked with a small smirk as she appreciatively inspected the vehicle. Imagine if Ah raced Logan on this thing…

"An' here I t'ought I was unpredictable," he commented with a chuckle.

Rogue couldn't help but detect the small note pride in his voice. She finally looked up from the bike with glazed over eyes. There's just something about motorcycles that made her salivate. "Where'd ya get this? Or do Ah not wanna know."

"Relax, chére. I got dis from back home b'fore I left. De boss actually supplies us each wit' transportation – me an' Petey got us a set of Yamahas, but y' can see why I prefer dis one," Remy explained, the delight of showing off his bike present in his voice. "Plus… Piotr kinda already blew his up…" he added as an after thought.

Rogue snickered softly as she turned back to the motorcycle and shyly ran her gloved hand along the handlebar. "Looks like it rides like a dream… you'll have ta watch this one with me. Ah might snatch it from you," she threatened teasingly.

"Like t' see y' try, Anna," he drawled as he stepped past her and took his helmet off its resting spot the side. Before slipping it on, he revealed another one from the other side and tossed it in her direction. "Here y' go."

She caught it and carefully tugged it on her head. "Do ya normally have female riders?" she asked playfully.

"Do I really have t' answer dat?" He grinned lopsidedly before snapping his visor into place.

Rogue followed suit. "As long as you're not savin' it foh Sabretooth, Ah'm fine with wearin' it," she muttered, not sure if she wanted to know the real answer. "How far is yoah apartment from here?" she asked through the visor as Remy climbed onto the motorcycle.

"Far 'nough."

Rogue paused before throwing her leg over the bike's seat to sit behind him. "Ah told Kitty Ah'd be back by four."

"We can manage dat, I t'ink. I take it y'll be all right back dere?"

"Yeah…" she said softly as she edged forward on the seat and placed her hands gingerly on his waist. Do Ah really want to be ridin' in ta the unknown with him? "Let's get goin', an' don't get any ideas," she said with a bark of laughter, trying to keep herself light hearted.

"Furthest thing from m' mind, Anna," he threw over his shoulder before putting the bike into gear.

"Sure it is," she deadpanned.

Remy smirked as he pulled out onto the street. "Y' gonna want t' hold on tighter dan dat."

"Ah'll be fine, Swamp Rat."

"Suit y' self." He gunned the motor, speeding up to sixty miles an hour in seconds. Rogue's hands reflexively grasped his waist tighter at the initial speed up, but relaxed as they reached a constant speed.

"Ya better not be smiling up there, Swamp Rat," she firmly warned.

"Neh, not smilin', chére. Jus' bitin' my tongue so I don' say 'I tol' y' so.'"

She clunked her helmet against his and moved her hands to behind her back where there was a small portion of the seat she could hold onto. "This'll work jus' fine from here on it," she commented smugly.

Remy didn't respond, and if he did, Rogue didn't hear him over the wind whipping around them.

-----

Remy pulled into a parking garage below a tall apartment complex. Rogue gazed around, absorbing what she could of the surrounding buildings as she made a mental map to where they were. "This place looks nice," she said under the hum of the Harley as Remy shifted the bike into his designated spot.

"It works f' de time bein'," he responded with a shrug as he turned off the engine.

Rogue slid off the back, unlatching her helmet and tugging it off her head. Remy secured his motorcycle while Rogue smoothed out her hair. "Good thing 'bout short hair," she commented idly, oddly uncomfortable with the silence. "There's not much foh the wind ta whip around while you're ridin'."

He turned and pulled off his helmet. "When did y' cut off y' hair anyway? It was a lot longer b'fore… and curlier."

"When Ah turned fourteen, Ah started wearin' it short. The heat got ta be too much an' mah dress code was gettin' more restrictive."

"Quoi? With y' 'skin condition?'" he asked with a peculiar glimmer in his eyes.

Rogue looked away from him and sighed. "We should get ta yoah place… Ah don't feel like explainin' all this here"

"Mais oui, Anna. C'mon." He walked ahead of her once again, leading her to the elevator.

"Who pays foh this place anyway?" Rogue asked curiously as Remy pressed the up button.

"De Guild… partially. Mon père finances it in t' de budget." The elevator arrived and the doors swished open. Remy ushered her in true gentlemanly form and pressed the button for the fourth floor.

"Do ya get along better with him?" Rogue asked softly, looking down at her hands.

Remy snorted with harsh laughter. "What would y' consider 'better', chérie? De man is waitin' f' de day dis contract's up so I can go back home an' settle de Guild's problems."

She glanced up from her hands. "Sorry foh bringin' it up," she said in an even fainter voice. She knew his father and his responsibilities were a sore spot that could've only gotten worse with time.

"Don' be. Dat's what t'day is 'bout anyway… doesn' make it any easier dough."

Rogue forced out a chuckle. "You can say that again. Ah have no idea where ta begin. An' the truth is Ah'm still afraid of bein' here… with you."

He looked down to her and stared her directly in the eyes. "Are y' still on dat 'enemies' t'ing?"

"It's not that, it's just…"

"Oui… I know. M' afraid t' bring up everyt'ing too… Like when m' powers manifested…" he trailed off when he saw Rogue cringe. "Was yours dat bad too?"

She opened her mouth slightly to speak, but instead it fell closed and she settled for a small nod. She looked up into his eyes again, almost pleading with him.

"It's not too late t' go back, Anna," he whispered, feeling his eyes burn dully. He expected Rogue to look away from their intensity, but knew she wasn't afraid of them. However, the way she gazed back told him she was having trouble looking away.

"What are ya doin'?" she managed to whisper, realizing she couldn't divert her stare from his eyes. She felt herself get ever so slightly lost, and she knew that his eyes had never had that affect on her before. It was like a dull pull, keeping her gaze glued to his as if she was swimming in the red irises, slowly drowning in the darkness…

He blinked. "Je regrette, chére," he sighed as he closed his eyes and leaned back against the elevator wall. Rogue stared at him confused as he rubbed the bridge of his nose. "I do dis t'ing sometimes," he explained. "Sometimes I can help it, ot'er times I can', like right now."

"What was it?" she inquired, somewhat out of breath as she began to regain her bearings.

"It's like… a charm t'ing. Like persuadin' people wit' m' eyes wit'out bein' psychic." Noting Rogue's discomfort, he added, "It comes in real handy wit' other femmes." He laughed shortly.

Rogue grasped at the casualness and ran with it. "Oh," she said with a sly smirk. "So ya kidnap the girls an' then ya hypnotize them? That's how ya do it!"

"Only t' de ones dat say no," he countered, happy that she caught on. They shared a small laugh and then fell into an awkward silence. Rogue's attention fell to her gloves once again and Remy's hand itched in his pocket for his pack of cigarettes.

The elevator dinged, telling them that they were on Remy's floor. Rogue blinked at the doors as they swished open and then looked at Remy. He smiled calmly and neutrally and for once, she was disappointed to not see his trademark smirk. "After you," he told her in a soft voice. She smiled meekly and exited the elevator, waiting for him to show her the way to his apartment.

She followed behind him as he took the lead once more. He fished in his pockets for keys and extracted them a moment later as they stopped in front of a door with 47 written on it. "Is this it?" she asked.

Remy nodded as he slid the key into the lock and twisted it. "Home sweet home," he murmured as he pushed open the door. He walked in, sliding his coat off his shoulders and throwing it in a chair off to the side. Rogue tentatively followed him in, watching Remy as he dug into the duster's pocket for a cigarette.

"Thought ya said you weren't gonna smoke near me?"

He walked over to the balcony and opened the door. "Y' don' mind if I do it over here, eh? Need t' calm m'self somehow. Dis is gettin' more nerve wrackin' by de minute."

Understanding completely, she reluctantly nodded. "But how did ya stop yoahself from doin' it in the motel room? Ah don't remember smellin' smoke when we were there."

Remy shrugged, placing his fingertip to the end of the cigarette to light it. It sparked to life and he took a slow drag, reveling as the smoke curled in his lungs. He exhaled a moment later, resting his arm on the rail outside. "I played a lot of solitaire dat night. Helps clear m' head too."

She glanced around, noticing a spare pack of cards on the coffee table. She reached down and picked it up. "Wanna play? Ah think we'd both be better off if we focused on a game or two than if you just sat there an' killed yoahself with those things," she suggested coyly.

"Gonna die someday, chére," he murmured morosely, but dropped the cigarette anyway and snuffed it out under his boot.

She watched sadly as he pulled the door shut behind him. "Ya know, Ah knew that you had yoah gloomy moments, but Ah don't think Ah could've imagined you bein' so…"

"Cynical?" he answered for her. "I t'ink y' know where I'm comin' from when I say it's easier t' pretend de past didn' happen." He slumped down onto the couch.

She stared at him for a moment before nodding slowly in agreement. She lowered herself on the other end of the couch, playing cards in hand. "But it did happen, Remy. Ah don't think anyone knows what Ah'm about ta tell you… save foh Irene." She said the name with unintentional harshness.

Remy looked at her curiously. "T'ought y' were cool wit' Irene?"

Rogue sighed, opening the pack of cards and sliding them out into her gloved hands. "Ah haven't talked ta her since Ah joined the X-Men," she replied guiltily.

"Why not?"

She looked up from the cards. "It's a long story, Rem… Ah wouldn't even know where ta start."

He nodded, lips pursed in thought. "Hey, do y' want some coffee or somet'ing? I should have some in de kitchen."

"That would be great, thank you," she said, smiling slightly. He mirrored her smile before standing up and exiting the living room as she slid the cards back into their box. Rogue took the opportunity to let her eyes wander some more as she heard Remy running water for the coffee.

She stood up and dropped the deck of cards onto the coffee table. She walked over to the TV stand and inspected Remy's home theater setup. It was simple, 32 inch TV, DVD player, stereo – somehow she'd expected to find more in the young thief's apartment. Her eyes drifted to the mantle where a few pictures were displayed. She ran her hand along one of the frames, smiling. It was a picture of his brother at his wedding with his new bride, Mercy. Rogue fondly remembered meeting them, and a wistful smile tugged at her lips. Mercy was so nice to her when they met – Rogue recalled feeling like she belonged to the LeBeau family, even for just one night.

She traced her hand along the mantle, her eyes floating across the other pictures. There was a mini family portrait with Remy, Henri and their father, another candid shot of Tante Mattie, plus there was another with a girl that Rogue couldn't place. Narrowing her eyes in intrigue, she picked up the frame to examine it closer.

Remy stood with his arm around the girl, both posing and smiling brightly, though Rogue could see right through Remy's grin. The girl however leaned on Remy adoringly, her blonde curls flowing over her shoulders and her violet eyes twinkling.

"Dat's Belle," Remy spoke up from the doorway. Rogue raised her head from the picture and looked over to Remy.

She picked her brain for the name, trying to recall it. She tossed the name back and forth through her memories of Remy and suddenly it clicked. "She was that girl you were talkin' about… the one that you didn't like. Ya said that her daddy was always tryin' ta show up yoah father when it came ta business… the one with the jerk brother, raht?"

"Oui."

"So… why do ya have a picture of her? Ya two end up datin' or somethin'?" She joked as she looked down to the picture again, scrutinizing their body language.

She faintly heard him sigh. "We're engaged," he admitted in a defeated voice.

Rogue almost dropped the picture. Tilting her head to the side in thought, she placed the frame up in its spot once again before she ended up breaking it. "Engaged?" she asked with a silent gulp. "How'd ya pull that one off?"

He ran his hand through his hair, breathing out roughly. "Why don' we wait f' de coffee on dat one? Y' got y' long stories, I've got mine."

"Sure," she whispered, turning away from the pictures. She reached into her pocket for her cell phone and checked the time as she fell back onto the couch.

"Y' want t' take y' jacket off, chére? We're gonna be here awhile."

Her lips formed a tight smile. "Ah'd rather not. It's nothin' against you, but Ah'm only wearin' a t-shirt underneath this."

"Y' sure? I can turn de heat on if y' would be-"

"It's fine, Remy. Really," she insisted, a little too harshly. She began to wring her gloves nervously, her fingers itching underneath the leather. This is a mistake, Ah shouldn't be here, she though, avoiding Remy's stare as she took her seat on the couch again

Confused at her tone, Remy slunk back into the kitchen to check on the brewing coffee. It dripped slowly from the ground beans into the pot. "What do y' like in y' coffee, Anna?" he asked casually, hoping to get her comfortable again. He could tell she was anxious about sitting there; she could barely sit still, her eyes wandering around, her gloved fingers twitching nervously.

"Just sugar, no cream," she responded softly.

He got the mugs out of the cupboard, trying to put the pieces together in his head. He tried to recollect what he read of her in Magneto's profile. Simple things came to mind - Code name: Rogue; Real name: unknown; Affiliation: X-Men, formerly Brotherhood; Date of Birth… etc.

What t'rew me off dough was her power description… Uncontrollable Power and Memory Absorption through skin to skin contact. It said somet'ing along the lines of 'renders victim somnolent or unconscious dependin' on de length of de contact. Homo sapien victims are usually rendered unconscious due to the power transfer while homo superiors react differently-'

The coffee pot beeped, indicating it had finished brewing. Remy took the pot from the maker's base and poured the coffee into the two mugs, his thoughts still wandering.

Dere was one word dat stuck out: Uncontrollable. Every time I've seen her, she's dressed head t' toe. When I tried to take her hand back at the warehouse district a month ago, she pulled away from me like I was gonna hurt her… "Coffee's ready," he announced idly, pouring sugar into both mugs.

"Do ya need help at all?" she asked from the couch.

"Non, I got it." He curled his fingers in both of the mugs' handles and lifted them up, strolling into the other room. Rogue looked slightly more relaxed, but Remy could tell she was still on edge.

She accepted a mug from him. "Thank you," she said with a small smile, pressing the mug to her lips. She took a sip, sighing contently. "How'd ya know how much sugar to put it?"

He smirked, shrugging. "Remembered dat y' like t'ings sweet but not too sweet. Guess I was hopin' dat y' tastes hadn't changed too much."

She took another sip. "It's funny the things we remember," she said thoughtfully.

"It's funny what happens in six years too, Anna," Remy replied, his voice even.

She stared at him over the rim of her mug, leaning back into the arm of the couch. "Where do we begin, Remy?"

"Well…" No better way y' start dis. "I jus' have a quick question… Can y' answer dat for me? Maybe it'll spark up a conversation so we're not awkwardly sittin' here." He placed his mug on the table and then leaned back into the couch.

She shrugged. "Sure, Ah guess we should both be pretty open if we're gonna do this, raht?"

"Bien." He paused for a moment, figuring out how to word what had been plaguing his thoughts in the kitchen. T' hell wit' it. "Y' can' control y' powers, can you?" he asked abruptly.

The air caught in Rogue's lungs. Her eyes hardened for a moment, glaring at him for his brusque question, but then after a moment, the gray began to calm down and her eyes shined more green as she absorbed the question. "No," she said softly, tearing her eyes away from him and down to her gloves as she placed her mug on the table. "Ah can't."

Merde. "I didn' mean t'-"

"No, it's fine. Ah mean," she said quickly, looking back up to him. "It was bound ta come up eventually. Ah was wonderin' if you knew or not… whether or not it was in Magneto's file or whatever," she said with a roll of her eyes.

Remy nodded gently. "It's mentioned."

"Then why did ya ask?" she questioned defensively, her hands curling slowly into fists.

"I guess I jus' wanted t' know how loosely he was usin' de word 'uncontrollable.' I mean, y' always covered up, y' refused t' dress down a li'l bit an' I remember back when I almost touched you, y' pulled away like I was gonna hurt y' but instead-"

"Ah didn't want ta hurt you," she finished quietly, lifting her mug off the table once again. She took another sip of her coffee and stared at the mug instead of looking at him.

"Some skin condition, eh? Funny how dat worked out," he joked halfheartedly.

Rogue didn't find any humor in it. "Irene's a precog," she explained in a low voice. "She knew how mah powers would manifest and took the necessary precautions so Ah wouldn't hurt mahself or others."

"How did y' know dat she did dat?"

"Because," she said, sighing shakily. "The night that mah powers manifested, Mystique tricked me inta thinkin' that the X-Men were the enemies an' Irene helped her."

"Wait, what? But Irene… she was…" Remy stumbled over his words, astonished. If there was one thing he could remember about Rogue's guardian was how tender the blind woman had been with her.

She laughed harshly. "Tell me about it. Ah mean… Ah don't know how or when her and Mystique ended up joinin' forces or whatever, but she practically gift wrapped me an' handed me ta Mystique an' the Brotherhood."

"How did y' find out? Somet'ing tells me dat dear ol' Reenie didn' confess all dis t' you one day out of de kindness of her heart."

Rogue bit her lip, flexing her hands in and out of fists. "Ah absorbed Mystique a couple months after Ah moved up here… Ah found out she was playin' all of us – not just me, but the X-Men too. She had shifted into them ta confuse me an' manipulate me in ta thinkin' that they wanted to hurt me when all they wanted ta do was help just so Ah would stay with her an' the boys… Ah mean, what kind of a sick bitch takes advantage of people like that?"

She paused for a moment, her hand fluttering up to her temple. "Ah'm not sure if ya know what it's like ta have yoah mind invaded an' have absolutely no clue who you are just because someone wanted ta help you up an' touched yoah skin by accident. She had complete control of the situation befoh Ah could even figure out mah own head." Her voice grew louder with each sentence and Remy could only watch in silence. Her breath came out in shaky rasps as she tried to control herself.

"'M sorry, chére," he managed to say after a few long moments. Usually this was the part of the situation with any girl that Remy would take her in his arms and hush away her turmoil, but he knew Rogue was different. He'd seen how she'd react when he got too close for comfort. His hand yearned to reach across the couch and grasp hers in even the smallest attempt to soothe her emotions, but instead he sat helpless, armed only with words that in the end meant nothing because the damage had obviously been done.

She shrugged pathetically. "It's done an' over with now. Ah mean… thankfully Mystique's locked up in Area 51 so she won't have the means ta hurt me or anyone else anymore." Then she laughed harshly. "Yeah raht. Ah still deal with her betrayal an' not ta mention one of mah best friends is her freakin' son! How do you deal with somethin' like that, Remy?"

He shook his head sympathetically. "I couldn' tell y', Anna, but one t'ing I'm gatherin' from dis dough… Maybe Irene ain' t' blame in alla dis, hein? Maybe she's just a pawn too."

Rogue snorted. "An' Ah'm just displacin' all my aggression from Mystique ta her? If ya hadn't noticed, Ah'm pissed at both of them, thank you very much. Ah know you weren't there foh any of this, Remy, but trust me; Ah've seen the memories like they were mah own – Ah know what happened an' Irene didn't do a damn thing ta stop it. Hell," she scoffed as she threw her hands up in exasperation, "she probably foresaw me blamin' all of this on her when Ah was ten so maybe she came ta terms with it years ago."

"Wait," Remy realized suddenly as he put the pieces together. "So her headaches…?"

"Visions. They got more frequent as Ah got older too. The pathetic thing is Ah didn't even know what a mutant was befoh Ah realized Ah was one. Ah didn't even know what to categorize you as, let alone that mah guardian was one! How was Ah supposed ta come to the conclusion that she was seein' an older version of mahself all those times Ah'd help her in ta bed an' get her some tea and ugh!" She sighed, frustrated. "Ah jus' feel like Ah've been oblivious mah whole life an' she's ta blame… ya know?"

"It's easier dat way," he responded delicately, his voice smooth.

Rogue nodded, her shoulders slouched forward. "A li'l bit of head's up would've been nice, is all Ah'm sayin'," she muttered.

"Do y' t'ink she knew y' wouldn' be able t' control it?" He asked gently. Without thinking, he edged towards her slightly on the couch.

"Hell if Ah know. Haven't really called her ta find out," she spat, curling one of her legs up underneath her, away from him. Her whole body itched as she felt Remy sidle towards her. Is he testin' me or does he really not understand the word 'uncontrollable,' she thought disdainfully. "Mah guess that with the 'dress code,' yeah, she did."

Remy watched as Rogue sighed again, hugging herself. He could tell by how her eyes just wouldn't meet his that she was done telling her side for the time being. Time t' reciprocate. "I haven' spoke t' mon père since I left Nawlins," he began gently, hoping she would open herself up to him again. "Sure, he set up de livin' arrangements, but it's not like he needed t' talk t' me 'bout any of it."

She looked up to him, her eyes curious and slightly relieved. "Tell me about how you ended up here."

"Have y' asked y'self dat question as many times as I've asked m'self de same of you?"

"Maybe," she replied, reaching for her coffee.

"Den I guess I should start at de beginnin' wit' dat one…"

-----

It started a few weeks after Henri's weddin'. T'ings wit' mon père weren' gettin' any better especially wit' Henri gone. Business wit' de guilds was gettin' worse an' worse an' de Council was expectin' some sort of action.

-----

"Wait, wait. Ah know that there's yoah Guild, ya told me about it once when we were readin' Lapin's comics by the river. An' ya vaguely explained yoah rivals, but what is this about a Council?" Rogue blinked at him, her eyes demanding answers. "What the hell are you part of, Remy?"

He sighed, a small smirk coming to his face. He sipped his coffee once and set it down on the table. "I'm part of an international organization of t'ieves, chére. Dere ain' jus' one T'ieves Guild. Dere's de T'ieves Guild of Nawlins, of Paris, Madrid… Name it, we're dere," he explained casually as if he'd explained it a thousand times before. Rogue might as well have asked him what time it was – it would've been in the same simple tone.

Her eyes narrowed in thought. "Somethin' tells me that yoah rivals ain' just some family with trivial issues with business anymore."

He laughed coldly. "Neh, dey're not. Dey're de Assassins Guild. While we're all trained highly in de art of t'ievery, dey're all cold blooded killers. An' de worst t'ing is dat dey're good at it. De Council is like a mediator between our two guilds in N'awlins t' make sure we don't wipe each other out."

Rogue sat, speechless as her hands grasped her mug of coffee. Remy could tell she wanted to ask questions by the way her lips were parted, ever so imperceptibly. "Should I go on?" he asked her. She could only nod slightly behind her mug.

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So, t'ings were gettin' rough. Papa was stressed out from de Council, who was houndin' him f' a resolution. It would be months b'fore dey came t' a conclusion dat no one would be particularly happy wit', but it needed t' be done in order f' dere t' be peace.

De Guilds needed t' merge.

How would dey do dat? Well…

"Remy, y' fat'er wants t' see y'," Tante Mattie said through the cracked door of the then fourteen-year-old's bedroom.

Remy glanced up lazily from his text book, his red eyes bored. "Can' y' see m' busy, Tante?"

"Busy wit' y' studies? Never t'ought I'd see de day!" she exclaimed dramatically as she pushed the door open and stepped inside.

"Never t'ought I'd actually be able t' use school work as an excuse t' not see Papa," Remy muttered as he turned back to the text. "It's not enough dat I'm studyin' anymore, is it? He's always drillin' me f' dis, tellin' me I need t' be smart an' now-"

"Y' père an' Marius have come t' an agreement, Remy," Mattie interrupted solemnly as she came up behind him at his desk. "C'mon, chil'." She grasped his arm and hoisted him out of his chair. "He won' have y' keepin' him waitin'."

He wrenched his arm out of her hand. "I'll walk m'self down dere, t'anks," he snapped coldly.

"No need t' get fresh, Remy," she warned firmly with her hands on her hips.

"Den stop bein' his announcer f' once," he spat as he stormed out of the room.

I knew it was dumb t' get mad at Tante – de ol' sayin' "Don' shoot de messenger" couldn' have applied more here. I was jus' gettin' so fed up wit' de back an' forth of "Remy, do dis" or "Time t' face y' responsibilities, mon fils." I knew it was comin' down t' de line when it came t' de big decision an' how I was involved. It was months in de makin' an' every day I woke up, t'inkin' dat's it, my life is goin' t' be signed away. De worst part was not knowin' how – but dat day… it was de end.

An' on top of dat, I felt like somet'ing inside me was wrong. Tante insisted I was gettin' headaches from stress, but I didn' believe her. Sometimes it was headaches, other times it was like m' joints were on fire, like de space in between my knuckles was achin' with Dieu knows what. I did what I could t' ignore de pain – Tante did her best t' keep me calm wit' her remedies. Who knows where I would've been wit'out her dose few months, an' dere I was, snappin' at her like a li'l brat.

Remy stomped down to his father's study, not wanting to waste any time. He could've escaped – he could've run to his tree where he found solace, where he had so many memories of himself and a girl that invaded his life with simple curiosity. Unfortunately, shortly after Anna left, his father followed Remy to the tree once and demanded he never go there again. Remy tried to defy his father, but Jean Luc would have none of it. It only took one threat of cutting down the tree to keep Remy from going back there. He hadn't dared to go since then.

The door to Jean Luc's study was left slightly ajar, so he pushed it open. Most people who entered the study of Jean Luc LeBeau would be astounded by the amount of elaborate paintings and rare first edition books, but Remy's red on black eyes glared right past them to his father who sat at his grand desk, papers scattered about.

Jean Luc glanced up at the sound of his son entering. "Ah, mon fils. Sit, we need t' talk."

Remy stalked to the chair across his father's desk, flopping into the seat in a flourish. "Tante said y' made an' agreement wit' M'sieu Boudreaux," he said immediately. Conversations with his father never involved small talk.

"Dat we did, Remy. We found a way t' unify de Guilds an' hopefully solve our problems." His father placed his pen on the desk and clasped his hands in front of him. He stared coolly at Remy.

"Get on wit' it," Remy insisted, in no mood for hesitation.

Jean Luc was pleased that Remy didn't want to beat around the bush. "We decided, what better way t' unify de Guilds dan by unifyin' de families. So, you, mon fils, are goin' t' marry Marius' daughter, Belladonna."

"Quoi?!" Remy shot up from his chair, hands bracing his father's desk. "Y' can' be serious!"

"Did I stutter, Remy?" His father's tone didn't falter once. His cool brown eyes stared unblinkingly into the mysterious eyes of his son's.

Remy on the other hand, felt as if he was going to spontaneously combust. "Dis…" he managed to say through gritted teeth, his voice shaking with disbelief. "Dis is de big decision. My big involvement t' de Guild – my big contribution." Dis isn' happenin'. Dis is not happenin'.

Jean Luc nodded smugly, unclasping his hands from his desk. "Y' knew dis day was comin'."

"I had de feelin' y' were signin' m' life away but t' do dis?! Do y' even realize what y' doin', Papa?" He pulled his hands away from the desk, clenching them into fists by his side. The aching had returned full blown. His hands tingled painfully from the tips of his fingers all the way up his arms. Stop it, he mentally scolded them. This was no time for extra distractions.

"I told you b'fore, Remy," Jean Luc said sternly, pushing his chair away from his desk and standing up so he could look down at his son. "Y' have y' responsibilities to de Guild an' to dis family."

"I didn' ask t' be part of dis stupide maisonnée!" Remy screamed at him before turning away. He fled his father's study, tears burning down his face from his glowing eyes. He vaguely heard his father shout something, but it was lost in the clatter of the storm door being thrown open as Remy fell onto the veranda outside. He clambered off the wooden panels and onto the lawn, his bare feet sinking into the soft grass.

I need t' get out of here. I need a way out, he chanted to himself as he ran blindly along the path he'd taken so many times before. His fists shoved at his eyes, trying to clear the damn tears that he couldn't stop from falling. Rocks scuffed at the soles of his feet along the dirt path, but Remy didn't feel any pain other than that of his hands. It was excruciating – he kept them clenched into fists in a feeble attempt to dull the pain as his sprint brought him down by the river. He knew he couldn't hide there long, especially with Jean Luc's threats, but he knew he could calm down if he stayed there for the tiniest bit. By all accounts he should've gone to Mattie for a remedy to his painful joints, but another minute in the LeBeau estate was just not an option.

Remy reached up with an aching hand to rub his eyes free of his stubborn tears once more. When he opened his eyes, he saw his tree in sight. For the first time that day, Remy's lips curled into the smallest of smiles as he quickened his pace to reach it. The sun seemed to peek out of the constant late winter gray skies to shine down on the tree, widening the smile on Remy's face. For a moment, he forgot the pain in his fingers and the drama with his father as he made his way to the tire; it swung without a care in the world in the small breeze.

He remembered Anna in the tire swing, her auburn and white hair flailing around her as she giggled endlessly as Remy would push her back and forth. She would tell him to push her harder and spin her quicker; she wanted to see how high she could swing and how far she could kick out her feet, pale underneath the summer sun. Ah promise Ah'll do the same foh you! She'd insist with a grin, but Remy would just push her instead.

He rested his hands on the tire, bringing it to a stop in its idle swinging. The smile on his face faded as he recalled the last day with Anna. It was such a bittersweet day – they shared their greatest moments together that last day only to say goodbye, never knowing if they'd cross paths again.

He lifted his gaze from the tire to the direction of Anna's temporary home. He could visualize her somber retreat up the hill as she waved goodbye, her gray-green eyes cloudy with tears. Remy couldn't recall a time when he'd been as sad as he had been that day. He tore his eyes away from the hill, trying to erase the vivid memory from his mind.

As if to help him forget, the burning in his hands returned ten fold. Remy cried out in pain, his grip on the tire tightening. "Merde," he hissed, willing the pain away. It had never hurt that bad in the months that he'd felt it. C'mon, he urged as he clenched his eyes shut. What de hell is wrong wit' me?

As suddenly as the pain returned, it drained from his hands as if it'd found some sort of release. Before Remy could even begin to wonder where the pain had gone, a sizzling filled the air. He opened his eyes and looked down to the tire only to see that it had come to life with energy underneath his fingers. The dark black rubber of the tire burned orange. "What de-"

A moment later, Remy was forced back into the trunk of the tree as the tire combusted underneath his hands. He cried in pain out as his back strained against the tree from the power of the blast. His legs gave out from beneath him and he slid down into the thick roots of the tree, the skin on his fingers scorched and raw against the rough bark and cool dirt. His face felt hot from the explosion – he gently patted his face and chest and assessed that he was, for the most part, okay.

He blinked several times and saw remnants of the tire around him, burnt and smoking. He rested his head back against the trunk of the tree, his mouth hanging open in wonderment. His red on black eyes glowed under the shade of the tree, wide with fear and curiosity.

Suddenly, it seemed as if dealing with his premature engagement wasn't going to be his only problem anymore.

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To be continued in Chapter Five. (smiles)

This chapter was entirely too long to keep as one whole chapter. More author notes in the next installment.