Chapter Twenty-Nine:


The infamous French Quarter of New Orleans was just as Rogue had always pictured it in her head. Of course, that could have been because she had Remy's memories floating around in the back of her mind. That was, undoubtedly, the reason that she felt like she had just come home.

If Remy felt even half of the relief and happiness swelling within her to be in New Orleans, then she couldn't believe he had been willing to give this place up, to follow her wherever she wanted to go instead of coming back home. That he was ready to give all this up for her made her heart ache with love for the man.

It was late by the time they pulled into the heart of the city on the stolen Harley, and in the dead-of-night hours, the French Quarter was a place of danger and excitement. The party and business life of the day and evening still echoed through the empty spaces of Jackson Square. The laughter and the jazz were now only ghosts drifting among the tall old trees and the vine-covered buildings. The heat and humidity lingered over the rough pavement of the streets. Not even the darkness could push it back to a cooler time, although the breeze created as the motorcycle raced down the dark streets helped a bit.

The black shadows just outside the streetlights gave the park a feeling of secrets lost and danger to come. Tourists who walked near Jackson Park in the late hours walked quickly, sensing the danger, their hearts beating hard from the brush against imagined death. But it was that very closeness to the unknown, wrapped in the history of the old town, that brought them back the following year. Brought them back to the parties, back to the great Cajun cooking, back to the unknown danger just inside of the nearest shadow or the closest hidden courtyard.

Rogue knew all of this from the memories in her head, the memories of the man whose waist her arms were draped around as he weaved his way through the city that was his home. Through Remy, she knew every shadow, every alley, every courtyard tucked behind iron gates. And she also knew that, for years, he had been part of those shadows, a part of the very real danger the tourists feared. In the moment he had kissed her that first time on the beach, before she had the power negating bracelet, he had given her a window into not only his mind, but his heart and his soul. All of his secrets laid buried in her mind. Some of them were sad, some of them were happy.

And some of them were just plain upsetting.

But she had meant what she said when told him that his past, his way of life, didn't bother her. It wasn't the ideal situation, of course, and it was a far cry from normal, but that suited her just fine. As long as she was with him, she found nothing else really mattered.

As Remy drove, Rogue studied the passing scenery with interest. Having Remy's memories of these places, and then seeing them for herself, was like watching a movie and then going to the place where it was filmed. The French Quarter of New Orleans was layered over and over in history. Every building, every courtyard, every park or street had a special history. Remy had told her how the people who lived and worked on those streets used that history to lure in tourists in anyway they could. He'd told her all about the ghost tours and supposedly haunted alleyways. Superstitious nonsense, Remy had called it.

Rogue called interesting.

Everything about New Orleans was interesting, really, especially the French Quarter. Every evening, as the sun set, the tourists and party life took over the warm, humid streets like a wall of soldiers suddenly ordered to charge the enemy. The conflicting sounds of a dozen jazz and blues bands fought for attention up and down Bourbon Street from open cafes and smoke-filled bars. Tourists pushed and laughed and walked, all fighting the battle to have a good time in the city known for good times.

The warm air was filled with the smells of smoke and open-air cooking. The restaurants all over the Quarter were filled to capacity with customers and the wonderful aroma of Cajun cooking drifted in and out of the shadows like a phantom, grabbing hungry people in a seductive, addictive embrace.

Rogue was fascinated by it all, but Remy barely paid it any attention as they drove through town. Rogue supposed that was because he had lived her most of his love, as much as he loved this city, it was nothing new to him. That, and he seemed quite eager to get back to his father's house. He hadn't said anything, but Rogue knew he was eager to see Jean-Luc LeBeau again. She knew because the part of her mind that was Remy was eager to see him.

"Remy," she called, leaning closer to his ear and resting her chin on his shoulder. "Tell me 'bout the rest o' ya family, other than ya father. Ya didn't mention 'em when we were back at the hotel. Ah wanna know 'bout 'em b'fore we get there."

"Sorry 'bout dat, p'tite," Remy replied. "Thought I did. What you wan' know?"

"Ya mentioned a brother," Rogue said, ignoring the pain in her chest as that word made her think of her own brother, who she might never see again. Who might already be dead. "Older or younger?"

"Older," Remy answered. "By two years. Henri is a good homme. You'll like him. He's very polite an' all dat stuff you femmes like. He's got himself a wife, named Mercy. You like her, too, Remy willin' t' wager. She's a lot like you. Pretty, opinionated, stubborn as hell. She t'inks I'm crazy."

"Ah like her already," Rogue drawled with a smirk.

"No surprise dere, chere," Remy said. "Remy got a feelin' de two o' you get along jus' fine."

"Any one else?" Rogue asked.

"Got a few cousins. Emil's yo' age, an' Theoren is de same age as Henri."

"Theoren is Etienne's brother, right?" Rogue asked softly, remembering the painful memory of the boy's death, a memory she had recieved courtesy of the kiss she and Remy shared on the beach that night.

There was a pause, then Remy nodded. "Oui," he agreed softly. "Etienne was his kid brother." Obviously not wanting to talk anymore about his deceased cousin, Remy hurriedly changed the subject. "An' dere's Mattie Baptiste," Remy said wryly. "Everyone calls her Tante Mattie. She helped raise me, an' helped care fo' most o' the younger generation when we were pups. Ano'der woman you prob'ly like. She also happens t' t'ink dat I'm crazy."

"Smart woman," Rogue retorted. "Glad t' see Ah ain't the only one that sees through that charmer act o' ya's."

"Act?" Remy echoed sarcastically. "Dat ain't no act, chere. Remy really is de most charming man on de face o' de earth. You jus' don' know it yet."

Rogue chuckled softly, tightening her hold on his waist moments before he took the sharp corner ahead at full speed. Good thing Ah have Carol's sixth sense, she muttered to herself, rolling her eyes.

Good for you, you mean, Carol spat darkly.

Rogue sighed. Carol, Ah don' feel like messin' with ya right now. So ya can either shut up or Ah'm gonna hafta shield ya outta mah thoughts. It's up t' ya.

Bitch, Carol sneered, but fell silent after that.

And don't ya go forgettin' it, Rogue replied sharply, raising a hand to massage her forehead gently. Remy must have known what she was doing, because he slowed down a little bit. "Ah'm fine," she promised him.

"Carol?"

She nodded, then realized he couldn't see her, and replied, "Yeah. It's fine now. Ah got it under control. Don't worry, jus' drive."

"As de lady commands," Remy said. "We be nearin' de Guild territories. When we get t' de house, jus' follow my lead an' you be fine. Later, after we get settled, either Remy or Tante Mattie will tell you 'bout de Guild protocol. Y'might wan' Tante Mattie t' do dat, since she's a girl. Remy ain't too good wit' dat side o' de business an' all."

"Ah never would have guessed," Rogue drawled as they rounded another corner, slower this time she noticed. Even though she had told him it wasn't the speed making her head hurt, it was obvious he had slowed down because of her. She didn't know whether to be touched or annoyed by that.

"Mon pere gon' like you, too," Remy called dryly. "He also enjoy makin' fun o' me. De two o' you gon' get lots o' laughs t'gether no doubt."

"Sugah, if ya don't want us t' make fun o' ya," Rogue said, leaning towards his ear again. "Then all ya gotta do is stop makin' it so damn fun."

"One o' dese days, chere," Remy retorted with a smirk.

"Super strength, remember?" Rogue snickered. "Add in some invulnerability and the fact that Ah can knock ya out with a single touch if Ah wanna, Ah think Ah got ya beat, swamp rat."

"You jus' keep t'inking dat den, chere," Remy replied dryly. "One day Remy jus' may surprise you."

"Ah have no doubt o' that," Rogue said.

Remy turned his head to flash her a grin, and his eyes widened in alarm. "Merde!" he cursed. "Chere, off de bike! Now!"

Rogue knew the tone of his voice well enough to know not to question him. Instead, she did the only thing she could think of, and lifted herself up into the air, watching as Remy slammed on the brakes, leaving a nasty skid mark on the pavement, and filling the air with the aroma of burnt rubber.

Her sixth sense tingled, and she whirled just in time to block a sword from crashing down on her shoulder, though in retrospect she doubted it would have done much harm, if anything it probably would have bounced off of her. Without hesitation or thought, she grabbed the masked figure, who was nothing but a blur of black and silver, right out of thin air and hurled him across the sky with all of her might.

He had sailed out of sight long before he hit the ground.

Rogue looked down to see a crowd of the masked assailants swarming towards Remy, who had ditched the bike on the side of the road, and was charging a deck of cards in one hand, his bo staff extended in the other.

Rogue dove, her head tucked, and plowed the horde over from behind. Tossing a glance at Remy as she turned to go back for another run, she demanded. "Who are they?!"

"Assassins!" Remy sneered, raising a flaming red card in front of him. With a flick of his wrist, the card had flown across the street to land just in front of the assassins, who were pushing to their feet. Before any of them could react, it exploded at their feet, sending the first wave flying back through the air.

Something in Rogue's mind clicked. Assassins. The Assassins Guild. Rivals of the Thieves Guild. There was a proposed truce, a suggested alliance, but it had yet to be agreed upon. Rogue knew all of this from not only Remy's memories, but from what he had told her. She didn't like the terms of the suggested alliance, and she knew Remy didn't either, but she hoped that Jean-Luc could negotiate a new one, taking into consideration the new developments in Remy's life.

Taking her into consideration.

But she didn't have time to worry about that right now. Right now, she needed to worry about the twenty assassins, all trained killers, closing in on Remy.

It was twenty trained killers against the two of them.

They have no idea what they jus' got themselves in t', Rogue thought with a smirk.

And she cocked back her fist to punch the closest assassin with such force that she heard his jaw shatter even as he was thrown back into the brick wall of the building across the street. She didn't miss the moment of shock from the other assassins at her actions, nor did she let the opportunity pass by.

With a grin, she let herself float just off the ground, letting the assassins take their best shots at her, all of which failed to do anything more than make her yawn. For every strike that was thrown her way, she dealt out two of her own, each taking down another assassin for the count.

"Don't ya'll ever do ya homework b'fore ya go attackin' ladies?" Rogue drawled as she grabbed another assassin by the collar and coked her fist. "Never hit one who can hit back."

"Dat one cleared de skyline, chere!" Remy called with a laugh. The sound of a trio of small explosions shook the air from behind her. She didn't need to turn around to know Remy was okay, she could hear him taunting the assassins in French.

Now, she thought with a grim smile. T' take out the rest o' this trash.

She clenched her fists and drove her way through the considerably smaller swarm of assassins, slamming half of them to the ground with enough force to knock them unconscious. Remy barked out an order for her to move, and she jerked up towards the sky just as a dozen charged cards whizzed past under her feet.

The explosion seemed to rock the air itself, a cloud of red flame and smoke billowing through the street. Rogue watched the smoke carefully as she floated down to join Remy on the sidewalk, just in case any of them were still standing.

As the smoke cleared, she found none of them were. They were all sprawled on the street, either unconscious or worse. Eyeing the razor sharp longswords scattered across the street, she found she didn't feel sorry for them in the least.

"Well," she said, glancing at Remy. "That could have gone down worse, Ah s'pose."

Remy flashed her a smile. "Anyone ever tell you dat it real nice t' have you along in a fight b'fore, chere?"

"One o' twice," Rogue replied dryly, turning back to inspect their surroundings one last time. "This part o' that local scenery ya wanted t' show me, swamp rat?"

Remy chuckled. "Don' even try t' say dat you didn't enjoy dat, chere. I know what kind o' girl you really are."

"Oh really?" Rogue asked sarcastically. "And what kinda girl am Ah, Monsieur LeBeau? An' keep in mind who ya talkin' t' when ya answer that."

"You de kind o' girl dat-"

Rogue's sixth sense tingled again, just as Remy's voice trailed off suddenly. Alarmed, she whirled to see a dozen figures dressed in black standing in the shadows behind Remy. One of them, a handsome man with a shaved head and a dark goatee, stood just behind Gambit, a knife at his throat.

"Well, well," the man snickered. "What dis? A t'ief caught wit' his guard down? You gotten rusty, Remy."

Rogue was about to plow the man over when Remy grinned. "Dat so?" he asked, and, so quick Rogue barely saw it, his leg kicked out, sweeping the man off his feet.

But the other man was good, and hooked his foot around Remy's ankle even as Remy tried to dodge, and the two of them tumbled to the pavement together, landing in a heap, with Remy on top.

"I t'ink you put on some weight," the man groaned from under him.

Remy snorted. "Look who's talkin'." He rolled to his feet and, to Rogue's amazement, offered a hand down to help the other man up.

The man with the shaved head took it and brushed off his clothes as he stood beside Remy. Glaring, he said, "You gon' pay de dry cleanin' bill fo' dis."

Remy smirked. "Good t' see you, too, Henri."

Rogue blinked in surprise, her eyes darting back and forth between the two men. Henri?!

Henri grinned. "Never said it was good t' see you, Remy." He opened his arms and they clapped each other on the back in a fierce hug. When they separated, Henri eyed Rogue curiously. "Who de femme?"

"Rogue," Remy said, reaching out a hand to take hers, pulling her down from the sky to land lightly on the street beside him. "Henri, dis is Rogue. Rogue, dis is Remy's brother Henri."