Here is another chapter brought to you by the wonderful Bellkie. Again,non of the members of our group own the X-men,X-men the movie or any part of Rogue or Gambit. Thanks to all who have reviewed and placed the story in the alert or favorite system.

Rogue had to admit, even if only to herself, that she'd actually enjoyed herself at dinner. She missed the feeling of being out with a man, especially in a date-like atmosphere. Whoa. Rogue slammed the brakes on that train of thought. It was not a date! It…it was a mutual need for nourishment. Yeah, that's it. As happy as she would be to believe that, there was the soft voice in the back of her mind, prodding her to believe that the night was, in fact, a date.

Remy was fascinated. Watching people's faces had always been a skill of his, a skill he had honed in his thief training. With the average person, their facial expressions gave away their every thought, mood and intention. Rogue, however, was completely different. He was able to tell when she was thinking especially hard, and could pinpoint when her thoughts shifted, but for the life of him, he couldn't tell what her thoughts were! When her eyebrows pulled together in a slight frown, he spoke up.

"Are you feeling okay, chère?"

"Huh?" she asked. She shook her head, admonishing herself for not paying attention. They had made it six blocks from the café and she didn't remember a second of it. "Sorry, what?"

"Are you feeling okay? You seem distracted."

Rogue valiantly fought off a blush at his words, glad that he didn't know just how distracting he could be. "I'm fine," she insisted, waving his concern away. Half of her was pleased that he cared about her wellbeing, while the other half was completely ticked off that he thought she needed his assistance. In true Rogue fashion, she chose to act on the anger. "As fine as I can be with two hooligan thieves trying to run my house."

"Hooligans, she calls us!" Remy cried with a pout. "We are nothing but humble men of New Orleans, living an…alternative lifestyle."

"Alternative lifestyle? Sounds an awful lot like your alternative lifestyle is something along the lines of being a drag queen," Rogue said with a smile.

"You're just jealous that if we were drag queens, we'd be prettier than you."

"In your dreams, swamp rat."

Remy casually slung an arm around Rogue's shoulders. She stiffened at the sudden contact before relaxing into his touch. They walked in silence for a few minutes, both surprised at the comfortable familiarity. Remy sighed when his phone started ringing and disentangled himself from her to answer it. He frowned, seeing it was Henri. Without answering, he slipped the phone back into his pocket.

"What was that?" Rogue asked.

"Nothing, Guild business. Not anything you need to get involved in." Remy paused before adding, "Not that that seems to bother you."

"Hmph." Rogue snorted. "I admitted I was wrong, but no, you won't let me out. It's like accidently getting involved in a gang."

Remy laughed at that. "Accidently? Désolé chère, but there was nothing accidental about your involvement."

"You used my house, remember? It's not like I sought you out!" Rogue said indignantly.

Remy snorted. "Are we living in the same reality? Because as I remember, I tried very hard to keep you from being involved at all. You threatened and wormed your way in."

"I told you I'd made a mistake and didn't want to be in the middle of this!" Rogue nearly yelled.

"And yet you are. Désolé," he said grimly. "I told you that it's no longer possible for you to be uninvolved. It's not just our safety that's at stake, it's yours."

Rogue glared. "What does that mean? Are you threatening me?"

"What, no! This is dangerous. My job is dangerous. Yes, you like adventure, but is our problem worth you getting killed?"

Rogue frowned, unsure how to answer.

"You don't understand that stakes here, so you need to learn to do what I say. Welcome to the Remy LeBeau Dictatorship."

Rogue crossed her arms and sulked beside him as they continued the walk back to her house. The flirty atmosphere was long gone. For his part, Remy was equally as frustrated with Rogue as she was with him. This infuriating woman would not listen! Everything he wanted accomplished would benefit her as well as Etienne and himself. After all, if the Assassins found out about her involvement, she wouldn't exactly last long.

Remy told himself that even though he was attracted to her, he only wanted her around for her own protection. However, as he watched the fiery woman and her perfect curves from the corner of his eye, he knew that wasn't entirely true. And he found himself a little peeved by that.

Things did not improve for Remy by the time they arrived back at Rogue's house. She was mad as hell and as soon as they were close, she stormed through the front door and stomped to her room. Remy was in a few seconds later to see a very shocked Etienne standing with a dirty rag in his hand.

"What'd you do?" Etienne asked, horrified.

"It doesn't matter," Remy said, waving off Etienne's concern.

"It does to me!" Etienne practically squeaked. "She's in charge! Do you have any idea how terrifying she is when she's really mad? No, of course not. Does the phrase frying pan mean anything to you?"

Remy just raised an eyebrow. "She's in charge?" he asked. "Have you joined a new guild, perhaps related to maid service?"

"Of course not, Patriarch," Etienne mumbled.

Remy sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. He didn't like pulling out the Patriarch card, he'd much rather associate as a friend, but he was quickly learning that sometimes friendly just wasn't going to work. This Patriarch business was a lot less fun than he'd originally thought, and he'd originally thought it sucked. The new responsibility was what he'd expected but now he was questioning how this was going to affect his friendships. If being Patriarch meant losing Etienne, and his other friends, maybe he didn't want the job.

"Get some sleep, Et. I'll be by tomorrow. We'll figure this out," Remy said and clapped his cousin on the shoulder. "We'll work on it, yes?"

Etienne nodded and went back to cleaning.

With a sigh, Remy left.

By the time he reached the Guild Headquarters, he'd already decided not to use the front entrance. By now, Henri would want to hear about what progress they'd made and why Remy had ignored his call. He really wasn't excited to tell Henri that they'd basically ran around in a circle. Remy easily scaled the side of the building, sliding in through his window in a few seconds. He looked around his room and frowned.

"Henri?" he asked the seemingly empty room.

"Damn!" Henri's voice came. The bedside table's door popped open and Henri unfolded himself from the small space.

"Getting sloppy, old man," Remy commented, amused smile on his face.

Henri cracked his back, pulling himself up from the floor.

"Why are you climbing in the window?" Henri asked.

"Why are you hiding in a cupboard?" Remy countered.

"Hiding from Père."

"Hiding from you. Wait, why are you hiding from Père?"

"He's been looking for you, Remy. And when he couldn't find you, he started looking for me. I think he knows something's wrong," Henri said.

"Merde!" Remy swore, rubbing his face. "Never could keep a secret from that man."

"Please tell me you solved this." Remy didn't look up at Henri's plea. Henri swore. "Now what?"

Remy turned to his brother. "Now, we get a little sleep. Tomorrow, you're going to keep avoiding Père. I don't care how. Go to the rec center and sign up for ballet and Lamaze classes if you have to—just don't let him know what's going on. Keep him in the dark as if your life is hanging in the balance," Remy said.

Henri nodded grimly. "It already is, all of ours are, if you think about it."

"I'm trying not to."

True to Remy's orders, Henri kept himself very busy the next day. He was up early to bully a few younger Guild members into joining him on a four mile run. After, he stopped by the nursery and spent a few hours helping the harassed woman with the younger children. Later, he took to the roof, claiming it was vitally important that he check every inch immediately for any sign of moss. It could cause deadly roof collapses, you know.

After, he managed to convince Mercy to join him for a bite to eat and a shopping trip. Mercy was immediately suspicious, as it was nothing like her husband to suggest, voluntarily, that she shop. In the end, she decided to go with it, vowing to uncover his motivation later.

It was nearly dark by the time Mercy was finally done and they made it back to their room. Henri collapsed backwards onto their bed, arms full of shopping bags, belatedly realizing his father would easily find him there. Sure enough, Jean-Luc rounded the corner seconds later.

"Oh, Henri, mon fils, I see you've been very busy today. I'm glad I've found time to speak with you."

Henri briefly considered throwing the bags of Mercy's new lingerie at his father and making a run for it, but resigned with a sigh. "Oui, Père."

Remy, however, had a completely different day. As soon as he woke up, at a horrible and ungodly hour, even for him, he'd taken off. He'd visited a few of his less reputable contacts, discreetly inquiring about the chalice. No one had heard anything. At least, if they had, they weren't talking.

That was one of the few problems with being involved with the Guild. Having that much power and weight behind you either earned you a following of groupies (amateur thieves) or a bunch of terrified people not willing to work with you. Remy still felt the benefits of being involved in the Guild's community outweighed the disadvantages. The avenues open to him, especially now that he was Patriarch, were astounding.

And yet…and yet with all the advantages to being Patriarch, it still felt wrong to Remy. It felt an awful lot like climbing the corporate ladder to take his father's position and to be honest, he wasn't sure if he was cut out for it. Also, he was starting to feel the sting of loneliness. It wasn't only that he missed the company of a woman (it was difficult to hit the normal night spots when he was ass deep in paperwork), but he also missed being a friend rather than 'the boss'. Plus, the stress of dealing with the Assassins was going to drive him out of his mind!

It wasn't until the afternoon that Remy made it back to Rogue's house. She had Etienne cleaning the second floor, emphasizing the bathroom since he seemed to enjoy the view in that room so much. Remy snickered when he saw Etienne scrubbing the floor, prompting Etienne to throw a toilet brush at his cousin. Unfortunately, Rogue saw this and walloped him with said toilet brush.

"Did you have something to contribute?" Rogue asked Remy hotly. "Or are you here to harass my indentured help?"

"Indentured help?" Remy asked amused.

"Yep. He owes me."

"How so?"

"By being a peeping tom, then setting my kitchen on fire," Rogue answered matter-of-factly. Etienne blushed. "Plus, he's not paying rent."

"Can't argue there, Et," Remy conceded. "Though actually, I came to say that I spoke with some of my contacts today. They all claim to have no knowledge of the chalice or its whereabouts." Etienne groaned. "Mercy's search of pawnshops isn't going well either."

"So where does that leave us?" Rogue asked.

"Royally screwed," Etienne said.

Remy kicked his foot. "If you think negatively, you'll get negative results."

"An optimist?" Rogue asked wryly.

"Only thinking pessimistically doesn't help matter. It's true that you need to plan for the worst case scenario but don't assume it'll happen," Remy said.

"Plan for the worst, hope for the best?" Rogue asked.

"Exactement."

"Hm. So, like I asked, where does that leave us?"

Remy ran a hand over his face before answering. "I'm not sure. There are a few ways to go about it. One is going for a blunt approach, letting everyone know we are looking for the chalice and that we aren't screwing around about this."

"Why does that sound like such a bad idea to me?" Rogue asked.

"Because it is," Remy said, sounding tired. "If we broadcast that we 'at some point' stole the chalice, and now lost it, it'll make tensions explode. And all kinds of opportunistic, pain in the ass amateurs will come out of the woodwork trying to either help, which would make a mess, or help the Assassins, which would be a bigger mess. It would just make life more complicated. Plus, it would mean the Guild would find out that Etienne failed his tilling, which would go to a council vote and probably would end in Etienne being banned. "

"I see. What's option two?"

"What we are doing now. We subtly inquire to various people, contacts, search like we are...things like that. It's harder now. In normal situations, time is essential, but now we have an outside deadline instead of just wanting it back for ourselves, so it's even more complicated."

"Yeah, and how's that working for you?" Rogue asked sarcastically.

Remy gave her a cold look. "This may be just an adrenaline rush for you, but this is serious. This is business and about Etienne's life," Remy said. Rogue's blasé attitude today was really bothering him.

Rogue frowned at him slightly. "That's not what I was saying and you know it."

Remy stared at her for a few seconds before looking at his cousin. "I'm going to check with a few out of town people who have fenced some items for me in the past, I'll be back later tonight. If you think of anything, call me." Remy turned around with a nod to Rogue and made his way out of the house.

Etienne glanced at Rogue before going to back to cleaning the bathroom.

"Well," Rogue said at last. "Since there was a bit of a kitchen fiasco last night, I have no food left." Etienne blushed again. "I'm going to pick up supplies, I'll be back later."

It turned out food wasn't the only thing her house was lacking. A quick inventory revealed a serious need for toilet paper, food, paper towels, and tampons, and she felt a very strong desire to replace the kitchen curtains Etienne burned. It didn't take too long for Rogue to find an all purpose type store, though she realized the decorative options were a lot different than in New York. After ten exasperating minutes of sorting through dozens of floral patterns, she blindly grabbed a royal purple package and tossed it into the shopping.

"It's a beautiful color," a deep voice commented over her shoulder.

Rogue swung around, automatically taking a few steps back from the dark man invading her personal space. His hair fell over his shoulders, sunglasses perched atop his head. He stared at her with oddly piercing eyes that made Rogue vaguely uncomfortable.

"Yes, it is," Rogue answered. "If you'll excuse me, I have to be going." Rogue turned and made to go down the next aisle.

"You won't find the chalice on any supermarket shelf," he called after her.

She turned back to look at him, frowning. "Excuse me?" she asked, stunned.

The man crossed the distance and took her hand, shaking it gently, as if he was afraid she was made of glass.

"I forgot to introduce myself, how rude of me. My name is Bandit, I know what's going on and I can help you."

"I…how…what?" Rogue stuttered, her brain still seemingly disconnected from the rest of her.

"Why don't we be civilized and discuss this over lunch?" he suggested. "There's a charming little place around the corner."

Rogue frowned. This man's attempt at smooth talking her would be impressive if she didn't have Remy to compare him to. Hell, compared to Remy, Bandit looked like a bumbling fool. But, fool or not, he wanted something, and she needed to know what that was.

"Sure," she said slowly. "I could use lunch."

Bandit was the perfect gentleman; he held the door open for her and pulled the chair for her before she sat down. Normally, the southern girl inside her would love it, but for some reason she was unnerved by the man. They both ordered, and only after their waiter told them it would be about fifteen minutes did Rogue speak.

"How do you know about the chalice?"

"Right to the point, huh? I like it. I have friends in the Assassins Guild. There's talk about what's going on with the chalice. Tensions are building, and when things get tense between the Thieves and the Assassins, things get messy. I have no interest in seeing more war and my friends' blood shed," he said, staring at her.

"So you're an Assassin?" she asked, feeling a sting of fear.

"No, I'm a Thief."

"Great." Rogue groaned and closed her eyes. "Just what I need."

"I know that LeBeau has fumbled this. He's going to ruin the peace that has barely just begun. The LeBeaus are too emotional as leaders. They don't care about what's good for everyone, just what is good for themselves," Bandit said. "Remy LeBeau only cares for himself, and he is going to start a terrible and bloody war that none of us are ready for."

"Why do you hate Remy?" she asked. That was the second time he mentioned this war, and it was starting to annoy Rogue that Remy hadn't informed her of this possibility.

Bandit frowned at her. "I didn't say I hate LeBeau."

"You act like you do. Spill."

"LeBeau is the reason I had to leave my home," Bandit said.

Rogue looked at him expectantly.

"I was contracted for a job in Chicago. LeBeau knew this and finished the job out from under me with no warning. I was in the Thieves Guild in Chicago and the leaders were…less than pleased with me. I couldn't get any jobs; the Guild wouldn't let me. I had to leave Chicago, so I came here and started over. I've lost everything, my life, the people I love, all because of LeBeau." Bandit spat Remy's name.

Rogue struggled to keep her thoughts off her face. It sounded a lot like Bandit was more interested in slamming Remy than his supposed friends' lives.

"How oblivious could they be to lose something like that, especially in a bar?"

Rogue nearly smiled at that. She hadn't said anything about a bar, leaving her to wonder how exactly Bandit knew about that.

"So what do you want?" Rogue asked.

Bandit's eyes ran across Rogue's face, trying to decipher if he was making an impact one way or another, but he was finding, like Remy, that Rogue was obnoxiously difficult to read. "I want to help you find the chalice. It needs to get back to the Assassins so we can avoid more needless violence."

"Oh, so you're a humanitarian," Rogue commented. She assessed him for a few seconds while she organized her thoughts. Whoever this Bandit was, he wasn't on the level. He wanted something from her, even if she didn't know what it was. She knew that he wanted to use her for something. Well, two can play at that game. "Okay."

"Okay?" he asked.

"Okay," she said again. "I'll help you find the chalice. You're right. Innocent people don't deserve to die over this."

She gave him her cell phone number before standing and leaving the restaurant. She was getting an itching feeling that Bandit was way more involved with the chalice than he was letting on, and she was determined to find out just how far that involvement went. She contemplated whether or not to tell Remy about the encounter, then finally decided that if he was going to keep secrets from her, she was fine keeping them from him.

One thing that Bandit said did make sense though. Remy was fumbling this situation.