BENEATH THE SURFACE

Part Three

Remy LeBeau showed up five minutes late to dinner on his very first night at the institute. Rogue gazed up from her pasta salad as Remy sauntered into the kitchen, he looked slightly embarrassed which she found to be – for Remy anyway – highly irregular.

He took a seat (the only available chair left being between Hank McCoy and Logan), a slightly uneasy laugh escaping his lips. "Sorry I'm late, I got lost," he stated, he shifted his chair slightly away from Logan as best he could; the act seemed slightly immature but no one seemed to really care.

Rogue thought it odd for Remy to get lost, he usually was rather good at navigating his way through even unfamiliar places. He wouldn't even look at her as he glanced quickly along the table. Everything about his body language to the way he eyed up the food on the table showed the kind of unease that was so uncharacteristic of him.

Don't put too much interest in him, people will figure out what's goin' on between the both of you, she realised. She pretended to be more interested in her pasta salad instead, "no one give you a tour?" she asked, trying to sound disinterested and almost amused.

"I did," Scott spoke up, "and you had the floor plan print out."

"Yeah, I forgot to take it with me. And all these halls look the same t' me," Remy remarked, sounding slightly miffed. Rogue glanced up quickly and examined his expression, his brow was furrowed a little, his eyes glancing almost nervously around the room as if he were more interested in the cabinets and the walls than the people there.

"Are you joining the X-Men?" asked Bobby Drake, so very straightforwardly and quickly that it seemed to catch everyone by surprise.

The Professor, who was in the middle of sprinkling salt onto his salad, gazed warningly at Bobby, "we don't discuss anything regarding the team at the dinner table."

Bobby rolled his eyes.

"You're looking a little rough there," commented Tabitha, she gazed across the table at Remy and Rogue took a moment to examine the way the blonde's eyes moved up and down from Remy's face to his upper body in one slow deliberate sweep.

"Yeah, you get into a fight?" asked Jamie Madrox, his expression slightly smug as he tore a roll apart.

"Some mutant hatin' jerk caught me in the face with his fist," Remy remarked as he momentarily brushed his fingers thoughtfully against his the bruises on his face before he served himself some of the pasta from the large dish in the middle of the table. "First hit was free. Lets jus' say he didn' get the chance t' throw a second."

"You knock him out?" Bobby asked eagerly, always eager to hear a story of a good fight.

The Professor cleared his throat.

"Perhaps it ain' polite dinner conversation," Remy decided, he reached for the water jug just as Rogue was about to reach for it too and his bare fingers brushed against her gloved ones, he gazed up at her and his cheeks so uncharacteristically turned a little pink; Rogue felt caught between feeling worried about this and almost amused that it made him seem strangely boyish for just a moment or so and she was reminded of the times this would happen between her and Scott when she had actually cared for the boy. Those accidental touches, the brief tension, usually one sided. Almost always one sided.

He's so off, today, he's not himself, she realised. She tried not to worry about it, tried to put it down to his being new to the institute, put slightly ill at ease by his new situation.

Rogue pulled the jug quickly from his reach, "ladies first, gumbo," she remarked, hoping he'd understand that she had to treat him so coldly, to keep up the act that they were barely even friends let alone anything else.

Remy scratched the bridge of his nose absently, eyes elsewhere if he remarked, "whoever said y' was a lady?"

"Ouch!" laughed Bobby, Jamie joining in.

Rogue pretended to be insulted, all the while feeling genuinely relieved he'd at least played along. She passed the jug to him, but this time she noted he made sure their fingers didn't have a chance to remotely brush against each others.

Remy poured himself a glass of water; there was a silence at the table, no one knowing what to say and Remy's presence awkward for the others, especially when so much of the conversation and his being there was left unanswered and clearly not allowed to be broached so soon. She knew it must have been burning in their minds. It'd have been the first thing she'd have wondered herself.

After a moment, Remy decided to cut the tension, "so...anyone here play poker?" he asked casually. Rogue thought it a rather odd question herself.

"Every now and then," Hank supposed, Ororo saying nothing, while Logan simply grunted.

"I know how to play a little," Jubilee spoke up enthusiastically.

"Me too," Bobby agreed.

"I'm awesome," Jamie put in.

Remy took a moment, Rogue thought she spotted something rather intrigued on his expression as he glanced between everyone at the table. "Maybe we catch a game. Y' all play with money?"

Rogue coughed, "don't play for money with him," she warned the younger students, "He never loses."

"You cheat?" asked Rahne.

"I never cheat," Remy replied.

"Just make sure his sleeves are rolled up is all I'm saying," Rogue teased.

"Gambling with real is forbidden in the institute, but I believe there is a box of poker chips in the rec room," the Professor admitted after a moment, his expression thoughtful.

"Y' play poker, y' self, Professor?"

"Many moons ago," the Professor confessed.

Remy paused, "I suppose a game like poker be easy f' a telepath. Y' be able t' tell when someone bluffin'...be able t' look int' people's heads and see what their hand be."

"I don't use my powers for poker," the Professor frowned a little, "It would take the enjoyment out of it, do you not think?"

"Depends what type o' poker y' playin'. I suppose if y' playin' strip poker, there'd be plenty o' fun t' be had whether y' cheated or not."

Almost all of the younger students at the table laughed. Logan was not amused.

"That's enough, gumbo," warned Logan. Rogue sensed the thin ice he was already treading on with her mentor. He'd been on thin ice the moment he'd taken her from here in the first place, Rogue hoped Remy would know not to push it much further.

Trust Remy to start pushing it already, Rogue thought dully.

Remy rolled his eyes, "he always this much of a spoil sport?" he asked.

Jamie smirked, "always."

Remy LeBeau had noticed at the table one thing that everyone else had failed to notice. He had it in him to be highly observant when he needed to be, and today was no exception. All right, so he had gotten lost in the mansion...his observation skills had failed there a little; Jean-Luc had been in his room, he hadn't wanted to return back there to get the print out. Nonetheless, when it came to reading people, he was on top form tonight. When Remy didn't know people terribly well, and especially when he was put in a group, he liked to try and establish rather quickly what those people were like based on a very simple question, an ice breaker he always resorted to that was very easy to disguise as common interest.

Anyone here play poker?

It was an odd question to some, very general and not suspicious at all, but it was usually one of the best in his opinion to gauge reactions and read people. He was able to tell just from one glance after asking that question who didn't even know how to play the game either at all, or very poorly.

It was always useful to know who didn't know how to play the game, and who probably wasn't good at bluffing and just looking around the table he'd been able to gauge that Jubilee and Bobby did not know how to play at all. Despite their admittance they played, Remy had sensed their hesitance, noted the slightly embarrassed and unsure expressions cross their faces the moment the subject had been broached. That two could be busted hastily, they'd never know what hit them. Their poker faces were obvious; liar was practically printed upon their foreheads.

On the other hand, it was always easy to pick out who were ridiculously bad just by their open enthusiasm and false confidence. Jamie, for example, who had admitted to being awesome at the game; Remy wondered if for one moment his only experience of playing poker might be with himself. He'd be easy to con out of a small fortune in piggy bank savings, Remy decided. A couple lucky hands, lull him into a false sense of security by folding a few times, let him think he was on a streak, let him think he was good, wait until he was all in and take the lot with one devastating deathblow.

The Professor...a cautious player, thoughtful, reserved. His powers would make him a challenge, Remy wasn't sure he trusted completely the man was true to his word about playing honestly or not. The Professor, he could imagine playing at high stakes tables, his calm confidence and high intelligence probably making him a hard opponent to throw. Professor Xavier's poker face was like stone, Remy could imagine playing against the man, he'd sit there unreadable like a marble statue that gave nothing away.

Ororo, she had said nothing but it didn't necessarily mean her indifference wasn't necessarily telling; she was indifferent regarding the subject, certainly, but she knew the game and there was nothing about her expression that had told him she didn't understand the game. She knew how to play it and she probably knew there was a time and a place; she could win if she had to, but she had no interest in it. Money and challenge...they didn't interest or appeal to her, he could read it on her.

Logan...he had merely grunted. That was rather telling, Remy decided. Yes, Logan knew the game all right...the grunt, as if to say you don't even know the half of it. Remy had imagined him almost replying that he'd been playing poker since before nearly of the people at that table were born. He'd already gauged long ago that Logan was a good player, high stakes potential, but never lived up to it simply because he didn't see the requirement to. Logan played dangerous games, unpredictable hands with unpredictable people. It wasn't about money with Logan, it was about dominance.

Jus' like Jean-Luc, Remy had thought at that moment. Jean-Luc had once been an exceptional player; despite the hatred Remy had felt for the man at times, he'd always loved watching him play because it had been a fascinating thing to watch. The memory suddenly caused Remy to feel a little sick, and become uneasy; he had to quickly push it out of his mind to concentrate on the others and his fly assessment.

Scott Summers...he was likely to be an interesting player. The boy was so stone-faced and stoic; if he could hold that up in a poker game, he'd be a worthwhile opponent, a challenge. He knew how to play all right, but with him it was a time and a place. He'd win for pride perhaps, perhaps to prove a point...not necessarily just for the need of a few dollars.

In milliseconds he'd assessed that all; and then his eyes had fallen on Tabitha Smith. Something had been different about her reaction that had left him feeling just slightly ill at ease in a way he couldn't explain.

It was one simple thing she had done. She had almost dropped her fork; the way she caught it, it clattering very slightly against her plate. It had been a nervous action he would have not associated with a girl who appeared to be very comfortable in her own skin. He'd only watched her rarely through work for Magneto, but she'd always struck him as confident and not at all nervous nor troubled. His one question seemed to throw it all off for just one brief second

He couldn't help but wonder what it was about the thought of poker made her so ill at ease and he was determined somehow to find out. The rule of thumb when being in a new place, always assess everyone, find their weaknesses and their strengths. It was what he did.

As the poker subject was dropped, he tried to settle again, watching and listening to the others at the table, trying to ignore the feeling that he had unsettled most by his presence. He had felt Rogue's gaze shifting back and forth from him during the entire dinner; he felt like a bug under a microscope, felt as if he were being studied, observed. He hated that feeling. He was certain that the instructors, that Xavier...they were doing the same...he expected that. But Rogue...it was worse because he couldn't even look back at her properly.

Y' need t' just get over it. If y' don' look at her soon she's gon' suspect somethin' is wrong. Either that or she's gon' think y' embarrassed about bein' such a ridiculously bad lay.

After dinner, Remy made a point to offer to help with the dishes after learning that it was Tabitha's turn on the chore rota. People seemed to find it rather surprising that he'd offer to lend a hand, but he'd learned a long time ago you caught more flies with sugar than with vinegar. And besides, he wasn't ready to retire into the recreation room with the others and be under more scrutiny just yet.

He had almost expected Logan to disagree with the idea; but the curmudgeonly older man had seemed all too accommodating when it came to the subject, deciding it would be good for him to learn the ropes when it came to the chores. Remy had to wonder if perhaps Logan's encouragement that he participate in chores immediately had more to do with the idea of keeping him far from Rogue.

Hank and the Professor had tried to advise against it due to his hand, but it wasn't too painful, he was capable of drying dishes, as long as he didn't lift anything too heavy. Rogue had said nothing but he was certain she had an opinion on the subject; whether it was positive or negative he couldn't say. In the long run he'd have rather retired to somewhere private to spend some time alone with his wife...but that wasn't possible when he could barely even look at her right now.

There were more dishes than he had imagined there would be, and he almost felt idiotic when he saw the piles of them stacked up on the counter when it came time to dry each one piece by piece – thoroughly – and put it in it's place.

Tabitha said very little at first, humming along to a song by Taylor Swift on the radio, distracted by trying to scrub a rather stubborn food stain from a large pot. He watched her every now and then, wondering what it was that was going through her mind while he stood drying each dish. He'd ask her occasionally where things went but half of the time even she didn't know so much that eventually he had to go through most of the cabinets to determine the spots himself. He wasn't sure he cared in the end if the serving dish was in the wrong cupboard or if the plates were stacked wrong. At least they were dry and out of the way of dust.

"I expected this place t' be way noisier," Remy said after a time, he stood leaning on the counter waiting for her to be done with the pot she'd taken almost fifteen minutes scrubbing. "It's been sort of...quiet, laid back so far."

"It'll be far crazier once the others get back from summer vacation," Tabitha supposed, she swept her bangs away from her forehead with her wrist, huffing at the effort of trying to get the pot clean.

Remy drew a pattern onto the granite counter top with a finger wetted from a puddle near the sink, "guess most of them gone t' visit their folks and all."

Tabitha shrugged, she gave up on the pot, as far as she was concerned, it looked clean enough and Remy wasn't going to disagree or he feared they would be in there all night at this rate.

"How come y' here for summer vacation?" he asked casually, the pattern he drew into the cabinet was half of his signature, but the finger began to dry before he could finish the 'B in his last name.

"How come you are?" she asked quickly, she threw him an odd look.

Touchy, Remy thought, realising he'd hit a nerve. "Nowhere better t' be," he supposed, not sure if it was accurate or not. No, it wasn't that he had nowhere better to be. Before he'd married Rogue, it had always been the plan because he had nowhere better to be. Now...it was a case of there was nowhere else he would rather be...only because he didn't want to be separated from her.

"There you go," Tabitha responded.

As little as was said in those few moments, Remy was certain he learned more than he had needed to. She had avoided mentioning family entirely, that said she had some kind of problem somewhere. He might have touched upon it if he didn't know how from personal experience how awkward it could be when such a subject was broached. The jerk in him might have pushed for some kind of elaboration months ago, but things had changed.

He'd changed.

"So...what's the deal with you and Rogue, anyway?" Tabitha asked, it coming up rather out of the blue. Change of subject, deliberate to avoid speaking any further about things she'd rather not think of.

"What do you mean the deal?"

"From what I heard, you whisked her off to somewhere or other on some mission," Tabitha shrugged, "I mean, rumours fly around this place. Why Rogue?"

Remy didn't even hesitate. "I needed her powers. What more is there t' say?" he asked.

"What was the mission?"

"I ain' gon' bore you wit' that," Remy replied. It wasn't that he didn't want to bore her, it was that he didn't even want to think about any of it ever again. He'd rather move on. "Lets jus' say my hands were tied. Rogue was the best candidate, and the easiest t' manipulate."

Hope she ain' around t' overhear. Not that it matters, she'd probably be glad I ain' goin' tellin' the girl how we got married. She'd probably encourage me t' speak smack about her.

"I was shocked you even came back here. I always heard you weren't much of a team player."

"Who said that?"

"All of the Brotherhood boys. Some are still pissed with you."

"Blob, I suppose," Remy snorted.

"Most of them," Tabitha responded, "You got on their bad sides. You know, I'm sort of surprised you and Rogue made it through three weeks without killing each other...she gets ratty with most people after a few days of too much company...and if you're anything like the Brotherhood say you are..." she trailed off thoughtfully.

"What makes y' think it were a bed of roses? Rogue spent most of that three weeks bein' pissed with me in one way or another. Like y' said...I'm good at pissin' people off."

"I never said you were good at it...I just said you pissed the Brotherhood off. But they're so touchy, they tend to get pissed off at everything."

Remy looked down, "Not that I'm sidin' with them or anythin'...but...I suppose when y' come from a bad background...had a bad life...its easy t' be pissed off with the world."

Tabitha's expression was clouded for just a moment. "I suppose."

Yeah, Remy thought dully as he watched her. Definitely family situation.

Rogue couldn't help but keep staring towards the open doorway looking out into the hallway; she stood, pool cue poised in hand, wondering why it was Remy was taking so long to do those damn dishes with Tabitha.

It had been forty minutes. There hadn't been that many dishes, she could have done those dishes alone in about twenty. What was going on? Were they slacking? Standing there talking? Talking about what? Rogue dreaded to think about the things Remy may say in her absence. She couldn't be there to make sure he wouldn't reveal any of their secrets...couldn't be sure he wouldn't blow their cover about the fake marriage.

"Are you going to go or what?" asked Scott irritably.

Rogue glanced towards his grim face, he was standing leaning on his cue, waiting for her to take her turn.

Sighing, she leaned forward and took a shot, her aim was poor thanks to her distraction and she accidentally potted a striped ball – one of his – instead of hers. She groaned.

"Making it easy for me," Scott smirked, "I should have put money on this game."

"Sorry...Ah'm out of practise," Rogue muttered, she stepped back from the table and watched as Scott took his turn, he potted three striped balls in a row, his aim was superb. Her eyes shifted to the doorway again, waiting for Remy to return as Scott lined up his shot at the eight ball.

"So...we haven't had much chance to talk since you got back. What was this whole mission away with Gambit anyway?" Scott asked casually. He took his shot but misjudged and the ball bounced against the wall of the corner pocket and swung left, hit the other corner, bounced back to knock the white ball in.

Rogue retrieved the white ball and she placed it down on the table, sighing, "it's a long story, and Ah don't really want to go into it."

"Why so secretive?" Scott asked curiously.

"It's not a secret, it's just...not very interesting," Rogue replied, "it's complicated and dull...and Ah'm tired of thinkin' about it. Ah just want to get back to normal," she aimed and completely missed her ball, the white slipping into a corner pocket. "Crap..."

"You're really off today."

"Be fair mon ami, most teenage girls ain' that confident when it comes t' knowin' how t' handle a stick and balls."

Rogue lifted her gaze from the table to the open door where Remy stood, his eyes were judging the table, she frowned just a little at the comment.

"That's a little sexist," responded Scott; he seemed to be struggling to not be somewhat amused by the comment all the same. Rogue wasn't sure what she found more irritating, that Remy was making fun of her inability to make a decent shot, or that Scott was close to laughing about it.

"Don' get me wrong," Remy stepped into the rec room, he watched as Scott lined up his next shot, "there's always room for improvement."

Scott lightly struck the ball, the eight ball missed and he grunted frustratedly.

"Pair of you are about as useless as a hat on a decapitated body," Remy smirked.

"You think you can do better?" Rogue snorted, she tossed the cue to him angrily, "go on. If anyone knows what to do with a stick and a pair of balls, it's probably you," she muttered, feeling almost guilty for how bitter it had come out sounding, even unintentionally.

"Cut it out, you two," warned Scott. "No fighting in the rec room."

"No one here fighting," Remy took Rogue's shot, his aim was perfect, no hesitation at all. "Just playful banter, is all," there was a tiny smirk around his face, but Rogue could tell it was forced. Three weeks of seeing him at his worst had definitely given her the ability to see when he was faking a smile...when he was pretending to be smug.

Despite Remy taking over for Rogue, the game was still lost, as the next shot, Scott finally managed to successfully pocket the eight ball regardless. Rogue stepped aside and Scott and Remy decided to play instead. She watched for a little while, feeling it necessary to observe Remy's behaviour here. As anxious as he had been about coming to the institute, he was at least making the effort to join in, to integrate himself with the others. She wondered if that had been encouraged by the Professor.

Or maybe he's just doin' his thing...pretendin' to fit in, to be someone he's not so he can figure everyone out. He's so good at that, Rogue reminded herself.

She considered perhaps sitting on the couch, but Jamie and Bobby were playing on the Playstation and she didn't feel like watching them shooting the faces of army men and arguing about who was better at headshots. After spending another moment observing the game between Remy and Scott (listening to their occasional comments and praise for their shots) she decided she'd had enough and left to go upstairs.

In her room she sat alone for a while, listening to her iPod. She briefly considered unpacking the items from her vacation – the suitcase still sat in the corner – but she couldn't bring herself to do so yet.

Instead, she avoided the things she should have been doing by sitting at her dresser and sorting through the makeup drawer that Tabitha had been raking through earlier. She was almost certain that there were several items missing...she couldn't seem to find her favourite eyeliner (which had cost her thirty dollars), and nor could she find her expensive palette of purple eyeshadows which left her suspecting Tabitha had been through the drawer long before this afternoon.

Her eye caught a reflection in the mirror above her dresser, and she let out a little gasp at this unexpected presence; she spun around to see Remy LeBeau standing against her doorframe, hands in the pockets of his jeans; the moment she looked to his face, he shifted his eyes to look around the room.

She dragged the earbuds to her iPod from her ears, "Remy! What the fuck?!" she complained.

"I said hi...Thought y' heard me," he said casually, he pushed himself away from the door and moved over to where the bed was, picking up the last book she'd been reading before she'd left with him three weeks before.

"Ah couldn't hear shit," she turned the iPod off. "Ah had music on..."

"Wondered where y' had disappeared off t'," Remy commented, he flicked through the pages as if he expected to find illustrations. "Missed y', is all."

"You saw me half an hour ago," she pointed out, raising an eyebrow at him. She had to wonder if he had seen her...or simply heard her instead. She wasn't sure if he'd actually looked at her all day.

"Half an hour too long," he responded, he stopped on a page, "this one of them vampire novels?" he asked casually.

Rogue could even hear the tone of his voice was different; he was having a hard time talking to her. She hadn't expected this kind of awkwardness from him. She had expected it from herself, never him. "Zombies..." she drew her breath.

"Thought y' weren't that into zombies," he said, his voice slightly bored.

"Ah'm not...but Ah wanted to read the book before Ah saw the movie."

"They made a movie out of this?" Remy asked, Rogue was almost certain he was refraining from continuing the sentence with some insult about how stupid the stuff was.

"Yeah. It's out on DVD."

"Maybe we get it, watch it t' gether."

"Really?" she asked feeling slightly surprised, "Ah thought you hate those movies."

"I do...but if y' wan' t' watch it..."

"You don't have to do me any favours, Remy," she said quietly.

He paused, his eyes never leaving the page of the book he'd stopped at, "y' sound like y' in a lil' bit of a mood, Marie..."

Rogue swiftly got up from the stool and shut the door hastily, "don't call me that here," she warned sharply, "And Ah'm not in a mood."

"Could have fooled me. This 'cause of that joke I made t' One-Eye about the stick and balls?" he asked.

"Why did you have to make fun of me in front of him?"

"I wasn't makin' fun, I was jus'...tryin' t' lighten the moment.I thought it'd be funny, is all," Remy supposed. "I thought y' wanted t' play mean t' keep up appearances?"

"Don't make comments like that here..." she stood with her hand against the door, "don't call me Marie, don't make fun of me in front of my friends, and don't sneak up on me..." she pulled the door open, "and lastly, don't come into my room."

He put the book down, "No one saw me come up, they all downstairs."

"That's not the point..."

He made out almost as if for a moment he was going to leave the room, but he placed his fingers against her gloved hand, and pushed the door shut, holding her fist there on the knob. "Y' nervous t' be alone with me now?"

"No...Ah-" she tried.

"Is this about the yacht?" he asked bluntly.

She pulled her hand out of his awkwardly and moved away; she couldn't believe he'd actually even brought this up. She'd almost expected he'd try to pretend as if nothing had ever happened. It certainly seemed to be his favourite tactic lately...avoidance.

"Oh god," she muttered, "no, it's not about the yacht," she paced nervously.

"Y' didn't even give me a chance t' try and explain about that," he admitted, he stood looking at the door, expression a little thoughtful.

"Didn't Ah? Ah asked and you claimed it was seasickness."

"Oh...that?" he scoffed, he examined a scuff on his shoe, "I thought y' were talkin' about how I was a lousy lay even before I got sick."

Rogue was a little stumped by the way he had come out with that comment. She hadn't expected it, she'd expected an excuse, never for him to admit that it had been bad. Remy LeBeau didn't admit to being lame in bed...that wasn't him.

At least not until now.

For a moment, she stood, speechless, not sure how to take the confession. She wanted to say something but she wasn't sure any kind of response was appropriate. She didn't want to lie and say she'd enjoyed it, but she didn't want to deny that there had been a lot lacking in those moments. She decided staying quiet would be the best course of action.

"I was tryin' t' be careful. 'Cause of y' powers..." he admitted, "I...ain' used t' the types of limitation that brought..." his eyes seemed almost to be glued to the floor, his brow furrowed a little.

Feeling almost guilty, stomach flipping with anxiety, Rogue licked her lips and nervously sighed, "Remy..."

"No...it's okay..." he held up his hands almost as if in defeat, "It was bad. I...ain' used t' bein' a failure in that department, y' know...it ain' easy t' admit. T' be honest...it's...a lil' hard t' look y' in the eye right now...knowin' how much I disappointed y'..."

And there it was, somehow he'd managed to turn everything around, and in one single confession, had suddenly made her feel quite foolish for almost being mad at him.

"And I-" Remy began, but the sound of a siren interrupted him; he gazed up, looking a little startled at the excruciating howl it made.

"There's an emergency," Rogue announced loudly as she moved to the bottom of her bed and pulled the hidden drawer out of the bottom of her ottoman to retrieve her uniform.

"We're needed?" he asked loudly, sounding hopeful.

"We are needed," Rogue said, "You're benched, remember? 'Cause of that hand," she pointed out.

"X-Men, report to the Hangar!" came Storm's voice over a hidden speaker once the siren had died.

"I could be of some help..." Remy offered.

"The Professor would never allow it," Rogue, holding onto her uniform with one hand, moved to open the door and gestured out, "you better get out of here before someone catches you."

Remy gave a sigh, "Y' at least come t' see me when y' get back? So I know y' okay?"

"Ah've been on hundreds of missions, Remy. Ah'll be fine," she said, smirking just a little at how ridiculous it seemed that he would worry about her despite knowing how capable she was in the field.

"Y' at least come see me?" he asked again, he walked outside of the room, he stood in the door, looking hopeful, all the while his eyes never leaving the floor.

"Look...if...Ah can get there...then, maybe," Rogue responded, almost certain it would be an impossibility, "now go. Ah don't have time to talk."

As she shut the door, she felt the guilt again. She felt almost as if she'd been almost too desperate to get rid of him, she felt bad that she was actually looking forward to getting out into the field and being far from Remy for just a little bit. That for a short time perhaps the worries about him that had been plaguing her might leave her for a bit...there'd be no time for those thoughts out in the field.

Either that or he's all Ah'll think about out there...

End of Part Three

Can anyone believe it's already only three days 'til Christmas already? (Well, here it is, it's 22/12/2014, lol). Anyway, I hope you're all having/going to have a nice week (regardless of Christmas or not) and that you all enjoy the story.

Thanks to the guest (referred to as 'gg') who pointed out that yet again, ff net somehow managed to reset the story settings (this happened with Trouble in St. Tropez too, after I KNOW I chose Gambit and Rogue, somehow the story showed up without having characters listed as appearing, so annoying, don't know why it keeps doing this). Anyway I've corrected the error, hopefully now it's showing up and people will be getting updates or finding it. Hope to maybe get one more part uploaded before Christmas day (if I find time), but if I don't get the chance to say so before then, Merry Christmas to everyone, thanks for all the wonderful reviews and hope you'll enjoy this part (sure there'll be some thoughts about Tabitha here, lol).

Love you all :)