Hi everyone! Thank you again and again to everyone who's been reading, reviewing and adding this story to their alerts/favourites. I must sound like a broken record by now since I seem to start these things the same way every time, but I'd rather sound repetitive than ungrateful.

I had a bit of a hard time writing this chapter just because there is almost too much I could include. I know there is a lot to address about Rogue and the various relationships between characters, but I felt I needed to sift through them and decide which ones will enhance the story, and which ones will deviate too far from the plot. Although comic book Scott and Rogue mostly have very little to do with each other, I thought that their Evo counterparts kind of developed a bit of a bond especially in the first season (unrequited love aside) so I thought I would be missing something important if I didn't touch on it a little bit. So, this chapter might seem just as lame as the previous one, but hopefully I redeem myself a little at the end of it. One of my main problems was with all the ideas that were better suited for the next chapter latching on to my brain and clouding my thoughts about finishing this chapter so I really had to trudge through this to get it done.

Anyway, leave a note letting me know if you love it or hate it (or anything in between) and feel free to be brutally honest if I've messed up somewhere, but most importantly enjoy the next instalment!

Disclaimer: see chapter 1

Deconstruct to Reconstruct: Catching-up

Once Hank had given her the okay to leave the med bay, Anna had gone with Logan back to her hotel to get the rest of her things. Although Jean had been nice enough to wash the clothes she had worn the previous night, she needed to have more than one set of clothes if she was staying here. I could probably stand to buy some more, but that hotel bill tapped my funds a bit. I guess what I have will have to do until I get my first paycheque. The fact that Xavier would not accept payment from her for staying there made it a little easier on her. She had the opportunity to save a bit of money up so that when she was ready to leave, she would have a financial cushion.

Right now, she was making her way down to the kitchen (Jean had shown her the way earlier) for dinner. Her eyes widened at the complete and utter mayhem that she opened the large doors to. She recognized a few faces: Kurt – the blue, fuzzy, demon-like guy – she remembered absorbing him the first time her powers manifested; she remembered Kitty as the one who jumped on her when Kurt was trying to talk to her that same night; Ororo – another victim of her powers that night; and Scott – the one X-Man who had tried to befriend her while she was still in school. The rest (besides those she'd come in contact with today) she didn't recognize. Everyone here had taken to calling her Rogue, and she let them. She didn't bother correcting them because she didn't plan on being a permanent resident of Xavier's Institute for Higher Learning. Once it was time to leave, she'd go back to being plain, old Anna.

After filling her plate, she chose a table in the far corner and sat down by herself. Although the people here seemed to be fairly nice, she still didn't quite feel like she fit in here. She also figured that everyone must have been told about her abilities because, even though their words were kind, she noticed that most people gave her a considerable amount of space. All except one, who hasn't seemed to have heard the term "personal space" let alone know what it meant.

"Chère, what's a belle fille like you doin' alone in a dark corner like this?"

Speak of the devil. Anna inwardly sighed and replied, "You can plainly see that I'm eatin', or do your mutant abilities prevent you from seein' the obvious?"

He just smiled and sat down across from her. "Now, now no need to get defensive. I was jus' makin' conversation."

"Well why don't you go make conversation with someone else?"

"Because I like bein' in your company."

"You don't even know me. How do you know you like bein' in my company?" Anna narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms.

"Well," he said, smile never faltering, "how do I get to know you unless I spend some time with you?"

Anna rolled her eyes and went back to her dinner. Maybe if she ignored him long enough he would go away. She looked up momentarily to see him looking up at her from his plate. She quickly looked down and tried to pretend that she hadn't met his eyes. His eyes were like nothing she'd ever seen before and she was finding herself wanting to look at them over and over again. The rest of him wasn't too bad to look at either and there was something about him underneath his snake charmer façade. But in Anna's mind there were two major problems: one – she couldn't touch. There was no possible way to have a romantic relationship with someone without being able to touch them; and two: she had only left Gus a few days ago and was definitely not ready to get into the mess of another relationship. She couldn't just go from loving one man and diving straight into falling for another. But have you really loved him all this time? her inner voice asked.

"You all done there chère?" Remy's voice broke her train of thought.

"Uh, yah, thank you," she sputtered as he took her empty plate for her.

He winked at her, "No problem. I'll see you later." She watched his receding form before getting up herself and walking toward the exit. She needed some air and time to think.

Anna stepped out the mansion's back door into its still dormant garden. Branches were bare, and flowerbeds had yet to be adorned with the colourful assortment of blossoms that no doubt usually filled them, but there was an odd, almost haunting, beauty in its emptiness. She strolled over to a white, marble fountain with a statue of a woman standing in the centre. The woman was gracefully bending down with a water jug in her hands. Her appearance reminded Anna of a Grecian goddess; flowing fabric draped over her body, and loose curls intermingled with ivy fastened up almost carelessly. Anna perched herself on the edge of the fountain and inhaled deeply while closing her eyes. When did her life get so messed up? It seemed like only yesterday that she was a scared, seventeen-year-old girl who had been cursed with the ability to rip a person's soul out through their skin. When she met Gus, she thought her prayers had been answered. It had to be fate, after all… right? What else was she to think when meeting the person whose powers could give her that which her own took away? She was so caught up in the fantasy coming to life that she forgot one very important detail – fate could be a cruel bitch. By the time she realized it, it was too late; she was bound to this man both by law, and also by a twisted mixture of fear and gratitude. He had taken her in and given her everything she thought she would never have. If not for him, she would have been alone all these years, or possibly long dead – either from starvation, or perhaps by her own hands. She wasn't proud of it, but just after her powers manifested, the thought of just ending her misery did cross her mind more than a few times.

"Rogue?"

Her musings were broken by a familiar voice approaching her. He was just as she remembered him: the clean-cut, totally in control of himself, Boy Scout. "Hi Scott," she replied.

"It's been a long time," he stated, sitting next to her on the ledge of the fountain. "When we heard you were back, I almost couldn't believe it."

Anna shrugged, "I guess I'm just full of surprises." Her lips twitched up into an awkward smile and she turned to look at him.

"Yeah, well, after it was clear that you pretty much fell off the planet, none of us thought we'd see you again." He stopped, seemingly searching for the right words. "After more than a year and not even a blip from cerebro… we all assumed that…. I guess I'm trying to say that I'm glad you're alright."

Read: alive, Anna thought and moved to face forward again. "I didn't think y'all would notice to tell the truth. Well, maybe not that you wouldn't notice, but I didn't think y'all would watch cerebro for a sign of me."

"You may have been working for the other side, but I knew you never belonged with them. You were never like those Brotherhood boys. Besides, I thought that we were kind of becoming friends for a while there." He exhaled and turned his face forward, bracing his palms against the edge of the fountain. "What happened to make you want to run?"

"When you learn, via your curse, that the two people you've put your trust in to take care of you and keep you safe lied to you just so that they could use you to fight for their mission, and so that their enemy didn't get to you first, it makes it a little hard to stay."

"Well, then you must have learned the truth about us here, why didn't you come to the institute?" He turned to regard her again.

She gave a humourless chuckle. "I don't really remember what I was thinkin' at the time, only that I was angry and wanted to put as much distance between myself and the Brotherhood as possible." She met his stare. "Scott, I've made a lot of poor choices the last few years. Problem with most poor choices is that you don't realize it until it's too late. That's why I'm back in Bayville; I wanted to try and make up for the bad decisions I've made and start fresh. I know I'll always carry my mistakes with me, but maybe they won't have to run my life anymore."

Scott studied her for a moment. He always pictured her the way she was when he last saw her: as the scared, angry, teenage girl hiding behind layers of makeup and a scowl. She had discarded the mask of makeup, and although her disposition seemed to have lightened considerably, she still put up a brave front to hide the cracked and broken pieces that lay underneath it all. Selfishly, he'd always considered her one of his failures. Maybe if he would have tried harder, she wouldn't have disappeared, she would have come to them instead. He knew it was an irrational thought, but it was a thought that haunted him to this very day. "Well, you know this is a place for second chances."

"So I've heard," Anna gave a small but genuine smile.

~oOo~

After a little over a week at the institute, Anna had fallen into somewhat of a routine. She would wake around eleven o'clock and join the other residents for lunch. After that, she'd help out with some of the chores and then have a quick dinner before leaving for work around six-thirty. Usually Logan or Scott would drive her to work, unless someone else was going in that direction at the time. After work, it was almost always Remy waiting to pick her up. The first couple of days, he had her riled up almost to the point of strangling him, but in a few days, their banter almost became a nice release for Anna after a hard shift, even though he did still have a knack for making her blood boil.

She looked up long enough to see him walk in the door before going back to wiping the table in front of her. "Jerry, I didn't know y'all got swamp rats this far north."

" 'S funny, I was jus' thinkin' the same thing about river rats," Remy responded to her quip.

Jerry just rolled his eyes and continued counting the till. This was becoming a nightly event whenever Anna was working. Remy would walk in just as they were closing, and they would go back and forth until Anna was ready to go home. Normally, he wouldn't have allowed it, but after Logan told him about her being attacked outside the pub that first night, he didn't mind that there was someone there to make sure she got home safe.

"I think I've got everythin' done, anythin' else you need before I go?" Anna asked, untying her apron.

Jerry took a quick look around the bar. "No, I think that's good for tonight. We'll see you Tuesday," he waved to her.

"See yah then!" she smiled and joined Remy by the door before exiting.

Remy noticed her rolling her shoulders as they walked out into the parking lot. "Feelin' a little sore chère?"

Anna nodded, "Some nights carryin' those trays can be murder."

Remy's mouth stretched into a wide grin, "You know, with a little hot oil, and a pair of very talented hands, I could alleviate some of that tension for you… as well as a few other kinds of tension."

"Not as much as my fist bustin' up that pretty, little face of yours could."

"Aw, I wouldn't call my face pretty; handsome, or drop-dead sexy maybe, but not pretty. Mais, I'll take it as a compliment anyway," he said, not missing a beat.

"I swear Cajun, if your head gets any bigger, you won't fit through the door," Anna rolled her eyes as she shook her head.

"Oh petite, your concern is absolutely touching," he said as he hooked an arm around her shoulders. Anna was about to shove him off when he suddenly stiffened and slightly tightened his grip. "Somethin' ain't right," he whispered while trying to keep his body language as casual as possible.

"Remy?"

He released her and held out a hand to help her on to the motorcycle. "Good thing it's your day off, 'cause we're takin' the scenic route home," He whispered into her ear as he handed her a helmet. An outside observer might have simply viewed their interaction as a tender moment between two people, but Anna could see that Remy's jaw was set, and that his movements were tense. He got on the bike in front of her and Anna went to grab the handle on the back. "Non chère, the speed we'll be goin' at, it's safer if you hold onto me." Normally she would have scoffed at him and written it off as an excuse to get her to touch him, but there was no lightness in his voice, telling her that he was completely serious. She wrapped her arms around his waist, loosely at first, then tightened them and drew herself closer as he shot out of the parking lot.

~oOo~

This had been much easier than he thought it was going to be. It had only been a week and a bit since he set off to find her, and here she was, strolling out of a bar. My sweet, little Marie, how predictable of you. Leave it to her to find a job at a dive just like the one back at home. His jealousy flared when he saw the tall, lean man in the trench coat escort her out of the building. His hands gripped the steering wheel tighter when he could see that the man was obviously flirting with her, and he had to resist the urge to run them over when the asshole slung an arm around his wife. What really pissed him off though was the fact that Marie hadn't done anything to stop any of it. As a matter of fact, it looked almost as though she were enjoying it.

You filthy, little whore, he thought as he saw the man help her onto the motorcycle, and apparently whisper sweet nothings or some other romantic bullshit in her ear. He could hardly believe it. It was like a slap in the face; three years of marriage, and barely a week and a half after leaving him, she was already going home with other men. He had tried to follow when they drove away, but the speed that they were travelling at, combined with some erratic turns and the bike's ability to manoeuvre around traffic, it didn't take long to lose them. It doesn't matter, he thought. Now that he knew where she worked, it was just a matter of waiting for the right moment. Gus was a patient man. Whether he had to wait another week, a month, or even a year, he would eventually get Marie back. She had promised him forever, and he intended to hold her to that promise. When he got his hands on her again, she would learn why she should never go back on her promises.

~oOo~

As much as he loved all the children at the institute, Charles Xavier would savour the moments where he could move through the halls without coming face to face with the varying degrees of chaos that youngsters, especially mutant youngsters, were prone to create on an almost hourly basis. Sunday was the one day where almost everyone in the mansion was able to sleep in, giving him a few hours in the morning to himself. Mug of tea in hand, he navigated his wheelchair to the doors of his study. Upon entering, he noticed the curtains billowing away from the open window. Strange, he thought, fairly certain that he hadn't left the window open last night.

As he moved forward to close the window, he noticed a manila envelope on his desk. He set his mug down and lifted the envelope in his free hand to examine it; it was unmarked. His finger slid under the sealed flap and peered inside to see a photograph and a brief note:

He's out searching for her right now. I am doing my best to track him, but the trail's gone cold for the moment. Keep an eye out for him in case he manages to find her first.

Charles set the note aside. The photograph showed Rogue standing in front of a blond-haired, brown-eyed man who had his arms hugged around her shoulders while her hands grasped his forearms, clearly displaying the gold, wedding bands they each wore. Judging by the length of her hair, the photo was likely a couple of years old. To anyone else, it was simply a portrait of a young, happy couple, but Charles noticed one, shocking detail. Rogue wore an off-the-shoulder sweater, while Augustus wore a short-sleeved, collared shirt. His hands on her bare shoulders, and her hands on his bare arms.

It was another sliver of insight into the mysteries surrounding Rogue, but he wasn't sure what it meant yet. It was clear that she did not have control over her powers, but if that was the case, then how was this picture taken? Was it simply a trick of camera angles that made it look as though they were touching? No, Xavier thought. The firm grip they held on each other was apparent in the photograph. Perhaps the photo was taken quick enough that the effects of her mutation were minimal, or at least not shown in the picture. Or, he might have had some means to help her control her powers. "Hmm," he vocalized his confusion. If that truly was the case, then it would answer a few of the questions that were eluding him thus far.

Deciding to mull it over in his head a bit, he tucked the note and the portrait back into the envelope, and stored it in the top drawer of his desk. He snapped his head up at the sound of knocking. "Come in," he called out as he shut and locked the drawer.

In walked a very exhausted looking Remy. Judging by the sweat pants and t-shirt he wore and his overall dishevelled appearance, Charles could guess that the young man was likely laying awake waiting to come speak to him. "Remy, what can I do for you this morning?"

He ran a hand through his messy locks and sighed, "I think we need to keep a closer eye on Rogue."

"What do you mean?"

"Earlier, when I picked her up from work, I got a bad feelin'; like someone was watchin' real close."

"Did you see anything suspicious?" Charles' brow furrowed at the information.

"Non," Remy shook his head, "but I jus' had this feelin' like ice in my gut. I don' think whoever it was managed to follow us since I took a bit of a roundabout way home, but I thought you should know."

Charles nodded, "Thank you for telling me. Rogue has the next couple of days off, correct?"

"Oui," Remy nodded.

"Then that gives us a couple of days to keep our eyes and ears open, and to decide what to do next. In the meantime, perhaps we should encourage her to stay close to the mansion."

"D'accord," Remy answered.

"How is Rogue feeling about this?" Charles asked.

"We didn' talk much about it, but I could see she's a little spooked. I tried to tell her that it might be nothin', but I'm not sure she's convinced."

Charles nodded again as he mentally tried to fit all of the new information together. "Go get some sleep, my dear boy. I'll think on this further and let you know if I come up with something."