BENEATH THE SURFACE

Part Five

Remy LeBeau had very little time for any romance in his life for that first week spent at the Xavier Institute. Every moment spent was learning the ropes when it came to life at the institute. If it wasn't learning to use the technology in the war room (always under supervision, and always extensive and tedious), it was learning to run basic programs in the danger room (even more extensive, even more tedious and far more confusing than he was willing to admit). Then there was his least favourite thing to do, which was attend basic lessons about field tactics with Logan (which he loathed as he felt he could have taught the old jerk a thing or two about tactics). As if his time was not full enough, the Professor had insisted on some flying lessons in the Red Eye, which usually took place in the evenings with Scott (who he was surprised grated on him far less than he had assumed, although he was still somewhat wary because he was certain the boy still had a thing for Rogue).

It was by the end of that first week that Remy was starting to suspect that perhaps the Professor and Logan were trying to occupy all of his free time so that he couldn't find any time with Rogue. Remy supposed it was punishment for whisking away and marrying her without permission...or perhaps maybe just Logan's determination to stop him from getting any closer to Rogue than he already was.

On his seventh day of being a trainee X-Man (could it even be called that?), he was already starting to doubt he even had the energy for any of this and he hadn't even been on a single mission nor set foot in the Danger Room to train yet. For the most part, he tried to soothe himself by promising himself that this wasn't some kind of attempt to distance him from his wife, but part of the conditioning of being on the team, mentally exhausting him, trying to run him down to see how he'd work under the pressure. So far, they hadn't broken him, although they had run his battery down rather well.

Evenings had begun to become rather frustrating...sitting across the table from Rogue every single night (never next to her), having to look at her (it starting to get much easier to look at her once again as time passed) and knowing he couldn't even be near her made him feel even more lonely despite being in a house constantly full of people. Keeping up this pretence of barely having any interest in even conversing with her. Free time – of which there was very little – spent in the recreation room was usually passed playing pool with any of the others who happened to be up for a game at the time, or playing poker (each game proving rather dull as he always tended to win even when he was trying not to). Whatever the activity was, one thing was for certain...Rogue never participated with him. It almost felt as if they might be strangers.

When Saturday came, Remy was beginning to feel rather irritated by his distance from Rogue; in two days alone they had barely even said two words to each other. She'd promised him nothing would change but he found it impossible to believe when they hadn't spent a single moment alone since the day they had told the Professor they had decided to remain married. That Saturday night, after dinner, he retired to the recreation room as he always did, glancing towards Rogue who was playing foosball with Rahne Sinclair and from as far as he could tell, winning at it too.

Sighing inwardly, he slumped himself onto the couch between Tabitha Smith and Jamie Madrox who were playing some kind of game on a console – it seemed to be some multiplayer online nonsense as far as he could tell by the array of gamer tags joined to ridiculous avatars that darted back and forth across the 60 inch LED television.

"Stop it!" Tabitha complained at Jamie, she leaned over Remy to smack the boy.

"I'm not doing anything!" Jamie griped.

Remy inwardly sighed at this behaviour; it grew old, he'd been seeing it all week and it tended to grate on his nerves.

"You keep firing at me!"

"You keep getting in the way!" Jamie smacked her arm away from him, yanking the controller out of her reach as she tried to alter his position.

Remy shrugged down lower into the cushions, feeling slightly miserable. He'd kept up pretences all week, behaved spectacularly well considering he felt less like doing so and he'd even feigned cheer despite being tired. He'd even been civil to Logan. But he wasn't in the mood to keep up appearances. Not tonight. He just didn't have the energy for it.

"You got me killed!" Jamie whined.

"You'll respawn in like ten seconds, stop being such a little biatch," Tabitha grumbled.

Jamie tossed the controller aside, "I'm done. You don't play fair on teams."

"Fine, be a baby," Tabitha rolled her eyes, she tossed her controller aside and watched as the boy stomped off, leaving the room entirely. "Why is it boys are always such bad losers?"

Remy shrugged, "No clue."

"You're a boy."

"Quite perceptive of y'," Remy folded his arms over his stomach, gazing at the screen absently. "Is it the lack of tits or the fact I don't got a belly button ring?"

"Shut up," Tabitha rolled her eyes, "But seriously, with the boys being bad losers thing, I mean...is it just the alpha male thing or what?"

"No clue," Remy said again, something in the reflection of the television screen catching his eye.

"You're in a weird mood," Tabitha commented.

It wasn't the first time that week Remy had spied Jean-Luc's shadow hovering behind the couch in the reflection from the television screen. He was almost always compelled to look behind him, but there was never anything there. He dropped his eyes, refusing to acknowledge it further, refusing to allow it to prickle his nerves any more, "Just tired is all."

"How come you're not out on a Saturday night? Lance and Pietro used to go on about how you went out on a Friday and didn't come back until Monday morning, and you were still wearing the same clothes," Tabitha commented.

Remy glanced across the room to Rogue, who must have overheard the comment, she looked at the both of them critically for a moment, this glance cost her on the foosball table, Rahne managed to score while she was distracted.

"I heard that too!" Bobby said, from the corner of the room where he was building a house of cards.

"Shut up, no one asked you," Tabitha muttered.

Remy didn't answer, he picked up the controller Jamie had tossed aside and restarted the game, he had no clue what he was doing but he could work out fairly quickly how to navigate with it, "who's got the energy f' that these days with the amount of shit I got t' do right now."

"First week is always the hardest," Tabitha said, "they kind of overwork your brain before they even let you set foot in the Danger Room or the field. It's a little cruel, I think."

"It's a trainin' technique," Remy commented, testing out the in-game gun on an opponent, the fire was returned rather quickly and his avatar was killed almost immediately.

"It is?"

"Puttin' someone under extreme mental exhaustion, t' prepare y' for anythin', t' prepare y' t' be able t' work under pressure," he replied, "it's conditionin', pure and simple."

"You sound like know all about it," Tabitha pointed out, she tapped the button on his controller so his character could respawn.

"I was trained in similar ways," he replied.

"By Magneto?" Tabitha asked curiously.

"Long before Magneto," Remy replied, his mind drifted to being hoisted from his bed at one in the morning by Jean-Luc and a couple of guild members for his extensive training. Thieves work in the dark, he remembered his adoptive father growling. That had been when his school work had started failing; showing up to school tired and grouchy, not being able to concentrate, struggling to stay awake, it had never helped. It had been one of the reasons he hadn't fought much on the subject when Jean-Luc had decided to take him out of high school altogether.

"Who trained you?" Tabitha asked.

"I ain' gon' go int' it," Remy replied, "long story, too tired t' even bother," he focused on the game, or at least tried to. To the back of the room he could here Rogue and Rahne taunting each other at the foosball table, it occurred to him that he should have been playing that game with her, or she should be here playing this with him.

Tabitha picked up her controller again, joining the game, "When was the last time you were out?"

"Don't know," Remy supposed. He'd been out on the grounds, certainly, but not further; the institute had practically everything he needed, there was never any reason to go into town, and the only reasons he could think of (alcohol and cigarettes) were banned. A small part of him felt that he needed a real proper reason to leave the grounds (while it was allowed), while the larger part of him felt it seemed wrong to try and go anywhere without his wife with him.

"You must be getting cabin fever, I don't think you've left the grounds all week," Tabitha commented.

Remy realised she was right, but he didn't like the thought of that being significant. To try and get the subject off of him, he retorted, "how come you aren't out on a Saturday, you don' seem like the stay at home type either. More the party girl, type, really."

"Yeah, I don't do that so much these days. It's too expensive."

Bobby (who had clearly still been listening in) muttered, "especially when you borrow money and don't pay it back."

"Stop listening in!" Tabitha uttered.

Remy spent a few minutes playing the game, but he was useless at it. Tabitha was rather good, but he understood what Jamie had meant about the 'friendly fire' issue as her avatar kept running in front of his line of fire and getting in the way. He was reminded of Scott's complaints his first night at the mansion. The girl was definitely too rash and didn't think ahead.

As he played the game, he thought about Tabitha's words, perhaps she was right. Perhaps he did need to get out. Being stuck here for a week without going much further than the gardens had been leaving him feeling confined, and being overwhelmed with information, and rules, and training on machines and tactics and flying lessons was taking it's toll. He couldn't remember an actual moment he'd had any real fun since the day he'd arrived.

"Rogue," he called out to Rogue from where he sat, he didn't even raise his eyes to see her.

"Hmm?" she asked, stopping what she was doing; the sounds at the foosball table ceasing completely at the interruption of the game.

"Tabitha thinks I need t' get out more."

"Yeah, so?" Rogue asked.

"Wan' go see a shitty movie or somethin'? It's only seven, coul' probably catch an eight pm show."

He turned to look at Rogue, he saw the rather angry look cross her face, it was brief, so very subtle, but he knew it very well. He was almost smug at that but he managed to hide it before she caught it.

"Yeah, right, so Ah can pay you in and you can eat all my popcorn?" Rogue rolled her eyes at him.

Remy tried to not be hurt by the rejection, he understood why, but he was growing sick of this game. "I'll pay and everythin'...y' can even have y' own popcorn."

Rogue was about to respond – he was certain with another rejection but before she had the chance, Hank stepped into the rec room, donning his uniform, "Rogue," he said, his voice always quiet, respectful. Remy had to strain to overhear what was being said.

"What is it?" Rogue asked, she moved away from the foosball table.

"There's a situation; I'll be going but I may need your assistance."

Rogue looked conflicted; Remy realised perhaps it was the sort of mission that might require her unique powers.

"Let me just get my uniform," Rogue nodded.

"Pack some clothes, the mission is in Germany."

Remy gaped, "Germany?" he asked aloud.

Hank glanced over to him but continued speaking to Rogue, "we'll be meeting with Kurt there."

"How come Scott ain't goin'?" Remy asked, noting Scott wasn't even in the room, "shouldn' he be the one goin'?"

"Scott needs to be here to lead the team," Hank answered simply.

"What team?" Remy snorted, "me and Tabitha? And me not even allowed t' go on missions or set foot in the Danger room."

"Kitty and Jean will be returning on Monday."

"Y' gon' be gone that long?" Remy straightened up, feeling quite startled. He tried to hide his panic, he'd never been away from Rogue for any length of time since they'd married. Now she would be on an entirely different continent. Anxiety surged through him worse than when he'd seen Jean-Luc's ghost lurking about.

"It could be a week," Hank replied, "the mission is a rather complicated one; I won't go over the details of it with you right now, I don't have the time I'm afraid."

"Ah'll go pack," Rogue stated to Hank.

"Meet me in the hangar as soon as you're ready," Hank instructed her, and with that he went off.

Remy watched as Rogue apologised to Rahne for cutting the game short, then dashed off to go pack for the trip. He sat for a moment, feeling torn. He hadn't even noticed Tabitha had already wandered off to look at something that Ray was laughing about on Facebook.

Realising it was unlikely he'd even be missed, he got up and left the room; once he'd gotten out of the rec room, he jogged to his wife's room, finding her packing a small suitcase with her spare uniform and some civilian clothing.

"Y' jus' gon' agree t' go t' Germany?" Remy asked, "Jus' like that?"

"Ah'm needed, Remy," Rogue shrugged, "it's the way it works. When we're needed, we go."

"But...y' jus' gon' go...y' gon' be gone for maybe a week..." he came into the room and shut the door behind himself. "That's...y' know, quite a long time..."

"You'll barely notice Ah'm gone," Rogue raised an eyebrow at him as she packed some socks, "by the way, don't ever ask me out on a date in front of people again. People are gonna suspect-"

"Only one assumin' it was gon' be a date was you," he uttered.

"It still was obvious, they were all lookin'."

"So?"

"So...it's going to make people think there's somethin' goin' on," she grumbled.

"Let them."

Rogue shook her head at him, "Ah don't have time for this right now, Remy, just...don't do it again. Ah don't need this right now."
"Fine," he snorted, he took a moment, watching her; she had packing quickly down to a fine art at least, "Why don' I pack some stuff and come with y' t' Germany?" he suggested. "Maybe I coul' help..."

"Remy, you're in the middle of training here...and besides, you're not even fit for the field yet...not with that hand."

"My hand is fine, the bandage isn't even on any more," Remy reminded.

"How are we supposed to explain why you're going?" Rogue folded her arms and looked at him pointedly.

"I..." he faltered, "experience in the field?" he tried, "watchin' a mission in progress? I don' know..."

"Yeah, that's not gonna happen," Rogue smiled a little.

"Look, Ah'll be fine," she promised.

"Chere..." he begged, "tell them y' changed y' mind...get Scott t' go in y' stead..."

Rogue gazed up at him, "Remy...Ah'm goin'...there's no negotiation about it."

"Maybe if y' speak t' the Professor..." he tried.

"We agreed...we'd ask for no special treatment just because of this," she quietly reminded.

He still found it hard looking her in the face being so close to her and so alone with her, but as time was moving on it became a little easier every day; every time he looked at her he was still reminded of what he'd seen in her place, that vision had never resurfaced thankfully but it still stuck with him nonetheless. "We barely even see each other as it is..."

"Ah told you it would be like that for a while..."

"I didn' think it'd be like this..." he sighed, "We've not even had a conversation since Tuesday, and even then it was only about the best soda at the dinner table in front of everyone else."

Rogue dropped her eyes almost guiltily.

"It's not even like I can call y' when y' gone...y' haven't even replaced y' phone yet..."

"Ah'll get around to it."

"Y' could have at least got a disposable phone or somethin'," Remy commented grumpily. He wished he'd thought to order her a new phone, but he was certain she would have not accepted it, thinking it would be awkward to explain how she could have afforded it.

"Ah'll figure somethin' out when Ah get back."

"Maybe y' shoul' take my phone," Remy considered, "I coul' always log int' someone's computer here, order a new one...get it next day delivery..."

"Look, Ah probably won't have time for phones..." Rogue folded a t-shirt neatly and put it in the suitcase.

"We've...never been apart that long, Rogue..."

"Ah know, but...it's somethin' we'll need to get used to, it's probably gonna happen a lot."

Remy looked away from her, a shadow in the corner had caught his eye; Jean-Luc was standing there looking smug, Remy almost certain the dead bastard was rather satisfied about the separation. Remy's heart skipped beats, his blood run cold; the vision seemed to be almost decaying a little, the skin much greyer than it had been, the eyes seeming a little swollen, faint veins starting to roadmap those gaunt cheeks.

He felt Rogue take his bare hands, her suede gloves were incredibly soft and warm against his skin.

"Your hands are shakin'..." she realised.

Quickly trying to get a hold of himself, he moved his eyes to her, he tried to find an answer to it, didn't want her to know that he was afraid of what she couldn't see. "It's...it's..." he struggled for an answer like a fish flopped around out of water.

"The DT's?" she asked.

He'd heard that expression before; that was what he'd heard it referred to when Jean-Luc had gone into his brief detox when alcohol wasn't readily available for a stretch of time. He was certain to Rogue it would make far more sense for him to have this than his seeing a ghost, considering the girl seemed to believe he was an alcoholic. It was either admit the truth, have her know he was most certainly going crazy...or have her believe there was a logical explanation to it all.

"I..." he faltered, "It's...yeah...that..." he nodded weakly, "every now and then...comes and goes..."

Rogue rubbed his hands, "it'll pass...Ah've read about it..."

The thought almost worried him, had she been reading up on alcoholism because of him? He found himself almost momentarily pondering if trying to worry her about his drinking would guilt her into staying. Would it be in rather bad taste to say he wouldn't have minded a drink about now? After seeing Jean-Luc several times a day long after he'd passed, a few hard shots wouldn't go amiss. Knowing she'd be away from him, knowing he'd have no way of turning to her if he needed her...that certainly drove him to the thought of it right now.

If I admit that, would she stay?

"Don't go..." he pleaded of her, "please..."

"Ah'll be back before you know it..." Rogue promised, she let go of his hands. "Go on...before someone catches you in here..."

Remy hovered at the door, watching her for a moment, worried that if she left him she might not come back at all, not through misfortune but perhaps by choice. He drank in the image of her, although it still hurt to look at her. She didn't even offer a hug goodbye and he refrained from asking for one because he was almost afraid she'd reject him. He wasn't sure he could stand any more rejection right now. He shut her door quietly and stood in the hallway for a few moments, she was barely five feet away, a wall between them, he already felt lost without her.

"Gambit..."

Remy blinked himself out of his reverie and turned to his left to see Scott coming down the hall. "Yeah?" he asked, he couldn't even hide the disappointment in his voice. Right now he wasn't even sure he cared if Scott picked up on it either.

"I've talked the Professor into letting us play Paintball in the Danger room tonight, and he's perfectly willing to let you join if you're careful about your hand."

He didn't even need to think about the answer, "y' know what...I don' think I'm really up for it right now," Remy commented quietly and made his way towards the stairs, passing by the boy.

"You're kidding..." Scott seemed somewhat confused, "You've been complaining all week about not being allowed in the Danger Room..."

"My hand hurts," Remy commented quietly, he looked down at his hand, he'd taken off the support bandage days ago, it didn't hurt any more, but right now, the excuse was all he had. It was better than admitting he felt sick to the stomach that Rogue was going, that his heart hurt far worse than his hand ever could. "Have fun."

Rogue felt guilty; she felt guilty and she hated that she was letting Remy make her feel that way. She had never expected to feel bad because she had to leave him behind. She had always assumed that when the time came and they couldn't go on the same mission that he would be accepting of it. She had expected him to understand.

As she stood in the elevator as it slowly travelled down directly to the hangar, she couldn't think of anything but the way Remy's hands had shook, or that rather lost expression on his face. The last time he'd looked like that had been the night on the yacht...and then he'd gotten so drunk that he could have potentially died from alcohol poisoning. The thought worried her.

Holding her bag over one shoulder, she left the elevator as the doors slid open, and she strode to the red-eye. It seemed strange it had only been a week ago she'd been arriving in it after so long, now she'd be leaving again.

Logan and Hank were standing by the plane discussing the mission, expressions serious. Rogue approached, dropping the bag from her shoulder.

"Got everythin' you need?" Logan asked, taking the bag from her and loading it into the plane for her.

"Ah think so," Rogue drew her breath, "Are you comin' too?"

"You, Hank and Kurt are more than capable of handling this as a trio," Logan assured. "I'll be here with the rest of the skeleton crew."

Rogue perhaps thought it might be for the best if Logan didn't come. It would definitely make it easier to avoid more of Remy's accusations. If he had been comin'...Remy would flip...spend all his time obsessing about what might be happenin'. He's so paranoid...

"Logan," Rogue spoke up uneasily, "can...Ah speak to you about somethin'?"

Logan gave a shrug, "whatever you need..."

"Privately..." she said quietly, casing an apologetic look to Hank.

Hank gave a toothy grin, "Let me go check my email just one more time before I leave," he said kindly, and took off in the direction of the nearest computer which was far out of earshot at the far end of the hangar.

Logan leaned against the plane, "what's wrong?" he asked casually, his expression was slightly distant.

"Ah...think Remy is upset."

"Isn't he always these days?"

"When he found out Ah was goin', he got a little weird on me, Ah don't know. It reminded me of..." she paused, trying to refrain from telling Logan about the day on the yacht, the less he knew about how her marriage had been consummated, and Remy's behaviour afterwards, the better. "It reminded me of the last day in St. Tropez..."

"What you want me to do?" Logan sighed.

"Just...please keep an eye out...just in case he falls off the wagon or somethin'..." she requested. "Or...throws himself off of it completely."

Logan rubbed his bare finger against a smudge of dirt on the plane, expression a little dull, "he'd have to be stupid to take that risk."

"Not stupid...maybe desperate."

After a moment, Logan shifted his eyes to her curiously, "does he know you've been deliberately distancing yourself from him?"

She blinked, "excuse me?"

"That's what you've been doing, isn't it? Distancing yourself...volunteering for chores, for extra training...trying to find ways to prevent him from finding time alone with you..."

Rogue shook her head at Logan, "You said it would be good if Ah distanced myself from him."

"I know that."

"Ah'm just...tryin' to do what y'all asked of me. You said distance yourself, that it'd be good for him, that it would help him..."

"I said distance yourself, I didn't say drop him altogether," Logan replied.

Rogue sighed, she folded her arms, "Ah don't know why you're bringin' this up."

"I just want to be sure that you're happy and that you haven't changed your mind about him and that you just don't know how to admit it. If you need to say that you don't want to be in this marriage, Rogue, then say it."

"Ah haven't changed my mind."

No, she supposed it had nothing to do with the changing of minds. It was more that she just needed some time away from the drama, from the stress of it all. She'd spent weeks essentially babysitting him, dealing with his anger, his outbursts, his bouts of moodiness and then his drinking. She didn't think it was unreasonable to want a break from it all.

She just didn't want to admit that she needed that break. She'd much rather have her fake husband - no...fake was no longer correct, was it? Her lawful husband - believe she was swamped and struggling to find time for him. It was better than hurting his feelings, he was far too sensitive right now to deal with that.

Over a month ago she'd have laughed if anyone would have told her that Remy LeBeau was capable of being romantic, or sensitive. She wasn't sure anyone would ever believe her if she happened to tell them what he was really like. He showed a rather different face to the others, stoic and reserved at times, smug and cynical the rest of the time. He rarely ever showed his true emotions, and it was just as well, too many here would try to get beneath his skin and pinpoint the underlying problem with the intention to help...Remy didn't need more people prying into his personal life.

"It's your life," Logan grumbled, "at least that's what Charles says. Your life, you have the right to decide if this is what you want to do and how you want to live. But it doesn't mean you don't have the right to change your mind, to ask for help if you figure out later it was a mistake."

"Ah know that," she nodded, trying to seem sure.

Hank came approaching, "Are we about ready? We have a long flight ahead of us..."

"Ah...forgot somethin'," Rogue sighed softly, "Ah'll...be right back...five more minutes..."

"Hurry, please," Hank glanced at his watch. "We have a brief window to pass through airspace undetected and I don't want to miss it."

"Don't worry, Ah'll be fast..."

Remy retired to his room early; he'd thought momentarily about going to watch the Danger Room paintball session from the control annex but he just wasn't in the mood. He'd almost considered going back to the rec room but he hated to admit he didn't like being in there alone. He didn't like being anywhere in this mansion alone, really, as Jean-Luc always seemed to be lurking about somewhere, but other than his bedroom, Jean-Luc's presence usually seemed worse in the rec room...perhaps it was due to the room being larger, feeling emptier. He wasn't particularly sure what it was that made him feel that way, perhaps it was that there was so many places for the bastard to be lurking in.

He switched on his bedside lamp and glanced around the room; the dim lightbulb (which was one of those ridiculous energy saving bulbs he detested) didn't light much up at first, and so many shadows were cast across the room. Jean-Luc could be anywhere.

He sat down folded legged upon the mattress on the floor; his new bed was still to arrive, and he had heard not a thing about it. He'd advised the Professor about the new bed and had the iron bed frame removed and placed back into the attic where it had come from. Now, the mattress sat in the very middle of the room, futon like, made up neatly. His room still seemed impersonal and bare; he hadn't been out to look for any decorative touches to clutter it with...he'd never even done that with his old room back in Louisiana.

He picked up his iPhone from where he'd left it charging and began going through the photos again, his photos of Rogue, hoping it might take the bite out of his loneliness and unease.

The door opened, he'd expected it to be one of the others trying to beckon him to come to the Danger Room for paintball despite his excuses. When he saw Rogue standing there, it caught him by surprise.

"Y' forget somethin'?" he asked, feeling tired and dull.

She looked over her shoulder to check no one was in the hall before entering the room and shutting the door behind herself.

"Ah forgot to say goodbye."

He raised an eyebrow at her, for a moment he had hoped she'd reveal she'd changed her mind, but there was no such luck here today.

"And..." she squatted down beside him, looking at him, "Ah just wanted to assure you...that nothin' is changin'...Ah'm only goin' because Ah have to..."

"Okay..." He agreed, lowering his eyes sheepishly from her.

"Every moment away...Ah won't be able to think about anythin'...or anyone other than you, sugar."

He felt it to be true, but he wondered if it were for the right or wrong reasons all the same.

She climbed behind him on the mattress, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. Her embrace was warm, and for just a moment, even the presence of Jean-Luc's face looking through the window at them both couldn't affect him. Nothing could have made him feel safer at that moment. He gripped her arms, closing his eyes and focusing on nothing but that feeling, trying to hold onto it so it'd be burned into him for the week she'd be away.

"Ah..." she hesitated, "Ah...love you, Remy LeBeau..." she whispered near his ear, her voice nervous and unsure.

She'd avoided that word for a while, never seeming to be able to say it back in quite the same way he had. And so when she said it, even as hesitantly as she had, he felt relieved and assured. It had been hard for her to say, she struggled to say it and he almost understood why, given her unique powers and experience of being so distanced from others in the past.

"I love y', more," he said quietly. "Y' better go...'fore this gets any harder."

"Ah'll call," she said, "when Ah find time..."

The promise of a call alone lifted his spirits just a little, left him a little relieved. As she let go of him, the room almost felt colder, and as she left the room hastily, never giving him a second glance, he almost felt swallowed up by the loneliness again; it seemed even more powerful now after her telling him she loved him...made it harder to face, made him miss her more.

This would be the longest week of his life.

End of Part Five

Sorry it took so long to get this part out, I've been feeling quite under the weather this last few weeks (back has been particularly horrendous and bouts of depression and stress have made it quite hard to get focused on a lot of things). Thanks to those few who have taken the time to give a review or two, it means a lot to me, I'm sure a lot of people aren't as really gripped by this one as the previous two (I know Trouble in St. Tropez wasn't really as good as everyone as hoped it was going to be and I'm not too certain this one will be either) but it's nice to know some people are still reading and liking what's out so far (and basically isn't the fanfic equivalent of me sitting talking to myself). At the moment I'm about at part twenty (yes, it's going to be a far longer story than the other two) writing wise, so there is going to definitely be a lot more time to come.

Anyway, finally got the next part up and now I'm off to play Assassin's Creed Unity. Happy New Year to everyone, and I hope you all have a great 2015.