The chapter is written by the wonderful aiRo25. Neither she, nor any of us on the team, own Rogue, Remy, the X-men movie or anything related to the X-men. This has been true since the beginning of the story and will continue to be true. Have a great Christmas and New Year. The ROMY meeting is coming soon.

Rogue glared at this intruder. He looked worried and confused, and he was still trying to wriggle out of her grasp.

She tightened it. "Stop squirming!"

"Will you just listen?" he asked. He put on a good pair of puppy dog eyes, Rogue had to admit.

But that didn't make her more amenable.

"All right, mister," she said sweetly, sidling up closer.

He gulped.

"You talk and I'll listen. You'll tell me who you are, what you want, why you're in my house, and why I shouldn't kill you." She considered threatening him with her now defunct mutation but opted for simply not touching him, in case she decided to later.

"Can we have this interrogation somewhere else?" he asked, the slight squeak in his voice giving away his age. "You know, than the bathroom?"

It was a dangerous thing to remind Rogue of why she felt like killing him, and her response was to shove him through the door at high velocity and out into the hall before following him out with his death wish in her eyes.

"Um..."

"Up," she ordered. "Over to the living room. Now."

He went and stood not upon the order of his going.

Remy and Henri were quite busy in the office of the Guildmaster when a polite young maid knocked timidly on the door.

"Rems." Henri knocked his brother on the shoulder with a grin. "It's one of your many admirers."

Remy just rolled his eyes and gestured the girl in. "Oui?"

"Bonjour, monsieur." The maid curtsied politely. "The Guildmistress of the Assassins is here to see you."

Remy and Henri both straightened up in absolute horror, but neither showed it on their face. Henri cast a quick, worried glance in Remy's direction, which he ignored.

"Tell her I'll be in shortly and it's a pleasure to receive her."

"Oui, monsieur." The maid curtsied again and went out.

"And what are you going to do about this, homme?" Henri demanded.

Remy groaned. "What am I supposed to do? I'm going to go down, talk to her—"

"Find out what she wants," Henri cut him over, "and lay the charm on real thick. Comprenez?"

Remy thought about pointing out that he could give a little more respect to the Guildmaster, but since Henri was his older brother and helping to keep Etienne out of exile, he decided to let it go.

"Je comprends," Remy said absently, then he thought of Bella Donna and her notable temper and winced.

"Name."

"Etienne," he replied meekly from his position on the couch. The girl was marching back and forth on the living room rug, swinging a heavy cast-iron skillet with three fingers on one hand, the other arm crossed in anger. Etienne kept his eyes firmly on the skillet and swung his head well back whenever it approached.

The girl stopped and turned to him, narrowing her eyes. "Full name."

Etienne swallowed hard. Remy would kill him if he knew how much information Etienne was handing out. "Etienne Marceaux," he said weakly.

"The kitchen." She went back to pacing.

"Well, I did a little of it, but most of it was bad when I got here." He was fudging, but that skillet was awfully close to his head.

She snorted, whether in disbelief or indignation, he wasn't sure. "Bathroom." She glared daggers at this point.

"Désolé! I didn't mean to be in there when—"

"Why were you in there at all?" she demanded, cutting him over. "Why didn't you yell or close the door or something?"

Etienne cringed under her rampage. "I meant to."

"You meant to." She gave him the most pitying look, the one usually reserved for poor fools that don't know they were talking themselves into an early grave.

"Désolé," he pleaded again. "I was going to use the bathroom and I heard someone coming and I got scared and hid in the closet."

"I see."

"You could've been an Assassin," he said, while praying to every saint that Remy wouldn't find out he was saying it.

The girl blew out her breath in a long sigh and a white strand of hair flew back to stick against the brown. She gave him that pitying expression again. "Assassin. Me. Do I look like an assassin?"

"Uh..." Etienne was fairly certain there was absolutely no answer to that question that wouldn't get him in trouble, and his eyes returned involuntarily to the iron skillet swinging from her fingers.

Rogue followed the Etienne's gaze to her hand and repressed a grin. Truth be told, it was kind of flattering to know someone still thought she might be someone to be reckoned with. Ever since getting so left out of all the X-Men activities, she had been relegated to the harmless human. Who would ever have thought killer skin could do something for the ego?

"All right," she said and resumed pacing. "Assuming I do believe that you've got assassins hunting you down...Why are they after you and why are you in my house?"

"I'm on my Tilling," he stuttered, eyes still fastened on the skillet.

She deliberately brought it a little closer and his eyes widened. "Tilling?"

Panic flitted over his face and he tried very hard not to squirm. "Well, um...you see, I'm a Thief, or I will be one, at least if I don't get killed, and if they find the chalice, and if the Assassins don't kill me, and—"

Rogue groaned aloud. She pulled over the ottoman and sat down on it. "Start at the beginning. You've got to be the worst storyteller on the face of the earth. And I still ought to kill you for peeping." She laid the skillet across her knees.

His mouth clamped shut, the teeth clacking together.

She raised an eyebrow. "Well?"

"I stole the chalice from the Assassins, the one that Candra gave them, and now I can't find it, but if they find out it's missing, they're going to kill moi." He spoke quickly in a single gulp and Rogue frowned, having to sort out all the words. "This is a safehouse," he said. "No one ever came here and the Assassins wouldn't think of it."

That made sense. "This is my house," she said hotly. "My aunt left it to me."

"We thought you didn't want it," Etienne said miserably.

Rogue huffed, crossing her arms, with a hefty sigh. She pondered the details she'd gotten out of him so far. Apparently, there were assassins and thieves involved, but he wasn't a thief yet, and he had stolen from the assassins in some sort of initiation. And she was his only safe bet on staying alive. A small smile curved up her lips. This sounded like just the sort of adventure she'd been left out of ever since taking the Cure and definitely like something worth looking into.

"I'm Rogue," she said graciously, unbending somewhat from her haughty executioner role. "Now let's see if I have this right, and you fill in all the gaps."

"I'm not supposed to talk about it, you know," he said, hesitantly, his eyes begging her.

Rogue snorted inelegantly. "I can save those assassins the trouble, you know."

"Non, I'll talk, I'll talk." Etienne held up his hands in a warding gesture.

"Good."

Bella Donna Boudreaux had presence. She was a Master Assassin, a queen in her own world, and she knew how to wield the weight of her influence in a room. Remy found her waiting for him in the sitting room on the sofa. She wore her Matriarch's cloak, spread out over half of the sofa, her arms leaning on the back. She didn't bother looking at him when he came in. Everything about her breathed that she had him by the throat and was just waiting to spring the trap.

"Bonjour, Bella. And how is the Guild treating you?" He started out somewhere innocuous, an implied compliment on her promotion to Matriarch. But Remy knew this visit was anything but innocuous and he delivered his implied compliments from the doorway.

Bella Donna appraised him coolly, at least outwardly. He could guess at the gleam in her eye that she was stewing in her boiling temper and only her professional interest in a kill could generally temper that. Not a good sign.

"Bonjour, Guildmaster," she replied.

Remy winced. It was worse than he thought. He gave an internal sigh, then entered the room and sat in his father's favorite wing-backed chair. Besides being comfortable, it was the only piece of furniture with enough height and presence to outweigh the astute usage of the sofa. And so they sat facing each other, perfect equals, once lovers, and one currently very irate Assassin.

Remy thought sourly that his day could hardly get any worse.

"Knowing your recent appointment to administration,"—she paused there, drawing out the word in an implied insult impossible to ignore—"I thought perhaps you were feeling...restless. It must kill you to be out of the field." She tipped her head toward him, leaving an opening.

Remy did some quick calculations in his head. This had to be about the chalice. But from what she was saying...He frowned. She thought he had stolen the chalice.

He gave her an easy one-shouldered shrug. "You always said they'd give me the top billing one day." He'd often wondered when she said it if that was why she was interested in him.

But the comment wiped any forced pleasantness from Bella Donna's face. "I've come here on a personal matter," she said, blue eyes burning into him. "I'm certain a Thief is responsible."

"Oh?"

This was a serious thing to bring an accusation of a Thief. Remy wondered that she could do it so certainly. His mind backtracked through the entire Tilling with Etienne, trying to find anything his cousin had done wrong. Outwardly though, Remy fixed Bella with a look to remind her to tread carefully. The last thing either wanted was to reignite the war between their Guilds.

Bella Donna raised an eyebrow in return. "I very nearly married a Thief, Remy. I know the signs."

So it was Remy now, was it?

"State your case," he said, waving his arm magnanimously, earning a furious glower from the Assassin.

"A very personal possession of mine was stolen," she stated bluntly, still scowling. "I want it returned. Something you Thieves specialize in." She managed to infuse the word with more condescension and disgust than ever Marius had done.

"What possession would that be?" Remy queried flatly. She certainly wouldn't read any guilt off of him.

Bella Donna studied him intently.

He gave her a wicked grin. "See something you like?"

The blue eyes narrowed. "The chalice."

He looked at her with surprise. "Marius' chalice?"

"Candra's chalice," Bella Donna stated icily. "You are Thieves and excellent at discovering what has happened to stolen items, n'est ce pas?"

Remy tilted his head thoughtfully. He wasn't quite sure where this was going, but he knew that Bella Donna had some reason to believe that he would personally be involved in the theft. But what reason? It wasn't like they had left behind tracks.

Bella Donna did not wait for him to respond. She leaned back against the sofa, flexing her arms on the back, and gave him a small smile. "I expect you will have located the item and returned it within the week."

"You're so certain it was one of my Thieves?" Remy asked blandly, but his eyes danced dangerously at her.

She threw him one of the heated, irritated looks he had earned often enough during their long history. "It was a personal item stolen from my personal storeroom, and I expect a prank of this nature to be undone quickly or I will personally rectify it."

Remy leaned forward. "Is that a threat?"

Bella Donna leaned forward in return, narrowing the space between them, eyes spitting fire. "Take it or leave it, chér."

Remy settled back into his seat. "I'll keep my eyes open for it."

"You do that." Bella Donna rose gracefully from her seat and gathered her cloak about her. "I prefer my killings in cold blood over the heat of the moment."

Remy coughed on that one. "I thought you weren't in the field." She had threatened him personally and bodily more than once, but for once, he had a feeling she was serious.

She gave him one of her other famous looks, the one that told him he should know her well enough to know the answer. She gave him a slow once-over. "I think you'd be a worthy challenge." She flashed him a charming grin, then swept out of the room.

Remy waited until he heard the front door close behind her before he leaned back his head and groaned.

Great. Just great.

After about an hour, Rogue felt she had a grasp on the situation and all the players involved, and she couldn't help but feel a rising excitement at the possibilities.

She pursed her lips and deliberately gave Etienne a rather thoughtful look. He was busy worrying away at his lower lip with his teeth.

"I've decided to spare you," Rogue said, "on the following conditions..."

Etienne looked up, a hopeful look gleaming in his eye. Rogue thought he looked far too young to be a Thief at the level he was talking about.

"You will clean the kitchen," she began, suppressing a chuckle when his face blanched, "wash the pans, scrub the floors, empty the trash, clean the counters, etc. That kitchen must be shining when I come back down. You can also help me vacuum and dust all the furniture. There will be no free-loading on my property and you are to work for your room and board."

"But I have my own f—"

"Silence!" She glared at him and felt a twinge of satisfaction when he instantly backed down. Perhaps Rogue was being a tiny, teensy bit cruel, but she was certainly going to exact punishment for the bathroom stunt—hormones or not! "When you are finished with those things, I will inspect and tell you what else to do. Now, get busy."

Etienne got up slowly and glanced back at her before moving toward the kitchen. No doubt, he was hoping for a rescue from his cousin, whoever he was.

Rogue meanwhile had to prepare. She wanted to be ready for whenever that cousin came to check up on Etienne. This was just too good of an opportunity to pass up.

- - -

French translations:

Oui. Yes.

Bonjour, monsieur. Hello, sir.

Oui, monsieur. Yes, sir.

homme man

Comprenez? Understand?

Je comprends. I understand.

Désolé! Sorry!

Moi. Me

n'est ce pas? isn't that so?

chér dear (masculine)