Is This Love?

by GratuitousViolets

The upcoming wedding of Scott & Jean brings 21-year old Rogue unhappiness. A certain unexpected guest to the wedding starts awakening feelings within her she's afraid of, and she's in for the most emotionally taxing year of her life (mature content).

6. Part 6 - Homeward Bound

Is This Love...?

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Part 6

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Homeward Bound

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Mature Content Warning: Sex, Mention of Miscarriage

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Life became far more hectic than it had ever been before. New students were introduced to the mansion, and things felt overcrowded and frantic every day and Rogue struggled to try and keep pace with things.

With training, missions, having to try and keep so many rowdy and angry teenagers in line, it seemed time was very limited at home and having a personal life in the month of October had been nigh on impossible.

Due to the amount of missions that kept cropping up, the Professor felt it wise to split the team into two, Cyclops, leading the team of himself, Jean, Jubilee, Bobby, Roberto and Ray, and then Rogue, leading the team of herself, Remy, Kurt, Kitty, Jamie, Amara and Tabitha. This way, there was always going to be a team to handle something, and if two missions cropped up at once, there were no arguments of who was going to go with who. When things became much more difficult, Logan, Ororo and Hank joined which ever appropriate team they were needed on at the time – while trying to keep a handle on things at home with the team of new mutants who'd joined.

It was six days before Halloween, and Rogue's team – the Gold team – had just returned home from a mission dealing with a riot including the friends of humanity. It'd been a difficult night, a few injuries had been caused but for the most part, everyone was in tact upon touching base.

Rogue was still doubting her skills as a team leader; although they'd somehow pulled through, she often found that she was unable to think of good tactics and often, Remy was having to quietly advise her. She was convinced he'd have made a much better team leader than her but she was also sure that the team were not going to follow his lead because he still hadn't quite gained their trust yet.

It was a Thursday night and Rogue felt her body aching as she made her way to her bedroom. After the long and tiring mission, she'd had to sit for half an hour and debrief the Professor on everything that'd happened. She kept expecting him to tell her that she needed to try harder, kept expecting Logan to walk in and tell her she needed to pull her head out of her goddamn ass. None of these things ever did. No one had ever told her she was a bad leader, but she still felt it all the same.

After debriefing the Professor, she retired to her room and shut the door after herself. Feeling exhausted and slightly miserable about how things were going lately, she sank onto the edge of her bed to start unbuckling her boots.

There was a knock at her door and she called out, "yeah?" as she yanked a boot off and tossed it aside, looking down at her socked foot, she'd gotten another blister from being on her feet far too much and it'd weeped and bled through her teal sock.

"Hey, I jus' speak wit' Lance...he call me from the rehab centre."

Rogue turned to see Remy walking across her room, he'd already showered and changed into a hoodie and sweats and it was clear to her he was definitely staying in tonight. In fact, since they'd gone on that date in August, he'd barely gone out at all at night, which she found odd. He'd gone from spending practically every free night he had out having a social life to barely even leaving the mansion grounds unless he needed cigarettes.

She blinked herself out of a reverie, tried to remember what he'd said. What had he been speaking about? She took a second.

Lance. He was talkin' about Lance...in rehab.

"How is he?"

"Seems optimistic," Remy supposed, he moved over to the tall chest of drawers where her TV was and he picked up one of the DVDs to read the synopsis on the back. "Rehab seem t' be agreein' wit' him."

"That's good."

"He seem t' think he's ahead o' schedule. He wan' come home. He's hopin' I'll use my charm an' try t' talk the Professor int' lettin' him discharge early."

"Do you think he's ready to come home?"

"It's been...what...two mont'?" Remy put the DVD back down. "I mean, he's gettin' intensive therapy an' all...every single day there's therapy...he's been clean the whole time...worked through some stuff...not that he'll talk about it wit' me..." he shrugged, he leaned on the chest of drawers and looked at her.

"That's not what Ah asked."

"I don' know," he said, "an' that's the hones' answer. He's never lasted this long before at any place."

"How come?"

"My guess...this time he's really tryin' 'cause Kitty gave him an ultimatum. He love her...maybe enough t' get clean, I don' know. He's really tryin' this time, it seem. But pas' experience tell me not t' trus' it a hundred percent, y' know..." he shrugged.

Rogue nodded and worked at undoing the buckles and zip of her right boot.

"Y' think I shoul' vouch for him? Tell the Professor I think he ready?"

"Do you actually think he is?"

"Part o' me wan' him t' be ready. We coul' really use him on the team, chere. Same time, he no good t' anyone if he's gon' be prone t' a relapse again..." he shrugged. "I don' know."

"If you don't know, then it's best leavin' the rehab staff to decide when he's ready to be out."

"Guess y' righ'," he supposed. "Kin' o' feel bad f' the guy. He really wan' be back here, wit' the woman he love..." Remy pushed himself away from the chest of drawers and he came to sit beside her on the bed, "ain' easy when y' wan' be near someone y' care about an'...things keep gettin' in the way."

Rogue turned to look at him briefly; was he trying to make a point? She tried to shrug the thought off and she yanked off her right boot, wincing at the pain.

"Your feet are bleedin'..." he realised.

"Blisters. Ah've been on them so much these past few weeks...they're not gettin' time to properly heal. You'd think Ah'd have worked up some callouses by now," she peeled her socks off to look, the side of her left foot was raw, skin hanging where there once had been a rather large blister.

"You need better boots..." he picked up her boot and examined it. "When the las' time y' get measured?"

"When Ah was fourteen and my feet stopped growin'," she shrugged.

"What teen goth shop y' gettin' these from?" he shook the boot. "Or are these from Amazon?"

"They're custom, jerk," Rogue yanked the boot back from him. "Professor had them made for me."

"Y' need new ones – wit' a better fit."

"My feet are not big."

"Never said they're big, y' got quite small feet f' y' height," he eyed her bare foot thoughtfully, "but they wide...y' need t' get better fit at the ball width..."

"Since when do you know so much about feet," she eyed him suspiciously.

"I got custom boots. Made by a specialis'...he work f' the guil'."

"Sounds expensive."

"Nine thousan' smackaroonies a pair," he smirked.

"You're shitting me..." Rogue frowned.

"They're made t' be adapted t' my needs," he explained, "got t' be flexible, but sturdy, got t' have shin support 'cause I get shin splints sometimes, got t' have a flexible but durable sole so I can sneak quiet, but also, one that don' wear down fas'. Got t' have the righ' grip at the toes so I can climb, but also got t' have some kin' o protection at side here..." he pointed at his own feet, which were in socks, "on the outside, 'cause thats where I try t' kick wit' so I don' break my toes. An' arch support," he grunted, "fallen arches."

"Nine grand Ah suppose sounds like a bargain for all that, then."

"How 'bout me an' you take a trip down t' the Big Easy an' meet wit him, get y' measured up f' a proper pair o' custom boots?"

"As if there's time," she threw him a look. "You know the minute Ah try to make any kind of plans, somethin' is gonna crop up."

He gave a nod, agreeing that this was likely going to be the case.

"Besides, nine grand is way too much out of my budget."

"I can pay. I pay f' everythin'."

"Did you win big on poker again?" Rogue raised an eyebrow.

"I got a lil' nes' egg o' winnin's tucked away."

"You spend like that, you won't for very long," Rogue tossed her boots aside and sighed as she stood up, wincing at the pain in her feet and her back.

"Y' okay?" he asked.

"Just tired, and achin' all over. It's been a real rough week on my body. Ah'm twenty-one but my body is pretty sure it's sixty-one..." she grumbled as she unclipped her pauldrons and then her breastplate and the pieces dropped to the floor with a clatter, she stretched as best she could but her body felt tight, every movement straining her already overstrained muscles.

"Y' need t' stretch more. Like multiple times a day, even if y' ain' gon' be doin' anythin' strenious..." he said.

"Another thing you're an expert in?" she raised an eyebrow at him.

"Jack o' all trades, ma cherie," he chuckled.

"Seriously?"

"How y' think I stay so supple?" he asked. "I can ben' an' twis' my body in a lot o' differen' ways."

"Ah bet," she remarked, sure this was another one of his suggestive jokes.

"Stretchin' helps, trus' me."

Rogue sat down again, rubbing the back of her neck, "Kitty always says that too. But who has time for that?"

"Y' got t' make time..." he moved behind her and put his hands on her shoulders and began massaging through the fabric of her catsuit. "Take time t' stretch frequen'ly, an' time f' y'self t' jus' relax. Otherwise y' gon' burn out."

"That hurts..." she grimaced at his massage.

"It's not what I'm doin' that's hurtin', it's the fact that y' muscles are so tight. Jus' try t' let go o' all the stress, it'll ease up."

She closed her eyes and tried to focus on breathing exercises she'd learned in yoga. It was difficult when so much was on her mind.

"You really do need a vacation, chere. I know f' a fact that y' ain' had even had a proper day off since I got here..." he kept massaging, she felt his thumbs circling just below the nape of her neck. "Careful...you're gonna get hurt," she warned him, starting to worry his bare thumbs may graze the skin above her collar.

"I'm always careful," he said in a honeyed tone near her right ear.

"How would you know Ah haven't taken a day off?" she rolled her head with a sigh. "You keepin' tabs on me?"

"'Course I am. Don' y' know s' in a subordinates bes' interes' t' pay attention t' his boss an' keep her happy?" he teased.

"Shut up."

"C'mon...lets go away, do some fun stuff, sigh'see...relax..."

"Like Ah said, timin' is difficult. Things are so hectic right now..."

"Then maybe Logan gon' have t' jus' step up an' pick up some slack. I been here all o' three months an' he's taken personal time off at least four times t' go deal wit' his own shit. It's about time you were allowed to do the same. That's what the instructors are here f', t' pick up the pace when needed. Y' need time f' yourself."

Rogue supposed he was right, she did need time off. More than just a day. She needed a few days, time to unwind and just breathe without worrying about what she was going to have to do next.

"Ah do try and make time," she confessed, "you know Ah've been tryin' to watch that same DVD for the past three weeks. Every time Ah try Ah just can't...focus...Ah spend more time worryin' about what's not gettin' done or what could happen. Usually within the first twenty minutes into the movie somethin' happens, the kids cause a fuss or somethin' comes up and we need to go flyin' out to deal with it with the team..." she lowered her head a little as he worked her shoulders again, she was beginning to feel slightly looser at his touch.

"I'm serious, y' know," he said, his fingers rolling against her flesh through the fabric, "about goin' t' the Big Easy. Been thinkin' about it a while. I ain' seen my family in a long while an'...migh' be nice t' catch up..." he rolled his hands over her shoulders. "I'm gon' go either way. But I'd really like y' t' come wit' me."

"Why me?"

"'Cause you..." he breathed near her ear, "are my mos' favourite person here..." he squeezed her shoulders in an affectionate way.

"Other than your own reflection?" she asked, looking over her shoulder at him slightly with a smirk.

"Course," he chuckled. "How 'bout y' lie down so I can do y' back..." he murmured

She paused, almost tempted to let him continue with the massage, but at the same time she was starting to feel overwhelmed with his attention. Being touched like this wasn't something she was used to, and the longer it was prolonged, the more chance there was of an accident occurring, she was certain.

"Ah think Ah'm gonna take a hot bubble bath and crawl into bed..."

"Mmm, that soun' promisin'," He chuckled, he poked her ribs playfully.

"Shut up," she rolled her eyes at him as she stood up and headed for her bathroom. She'd switched rooms with Jean the week after Jean and Scott had returned from their honeymoon, and her bathroom had a rather nice antique claw footed bath which was deep and the powerful faucet always made for the best bubble baths.

Remy followed her to the bathroom door, and he stood at the open doorway, his shoulder against the frame as she went about putting the plug in and turning the hot faucet on. "So..."

"So?" she asked, moving her eyes to him as she took her gloves off and tossed them onto the counter beside the embedded sink.

"Y' gon' think about comin' away wit' me?" he asked, his eyes locked to hers. "I think it woul' do y' some good."

"Do you now?" she scoffed at him. "When were you thinkin'?" asked as she retrieved one of her bubble bars from the cabinet and started crumbling a little into the bath water, the smell of blackberry rose in the air, sweet and potent.

"This weeken'. We can have a long weeken'," he folded his arms comfortably. "Leave Thursday mornin', come back Monday."

She tossed the lump of bubble bar she had left back in the cabinet and then turned attention back to him, examining his handsome face in the warm bathroom light.

Would it really be bad to go away with him?

"Four days is a big chunk of time," she pointed out.

"You need a big chunk of time," he said pointedly. "You're worn out, you're stressed an' y' need a break."

She looked down at her bare blistered feet, "Ah suppose Ah really do need some new boots that don't mangle my feet..."

"That a yes?"

"Ah'll check with the Professor," Rogue decided, although she was sure that he wouldn't have much issue with her needing some personal time away. She'd barely taken time away in years and she was definitely due some time off.

"I'll call Jean-Luc, tell him t' get the house ready f' us," he grinned at her.

"Wait...you want me to stay at your house? Wouldn't a hotel be better?"

"Nonsense. We got a big house, lots o' room, an' it's out o' the city, quieter, more peaceful. Better suited t' you gettin' a break..." he pushed himself away from the door. "It'll be great. Trus' me."

Ah'm tryin' to learn to.

---

Rogue had not been surprised when on Thursday morning when they arrived at airport that the tickets Remy had booked them had been first class seats. She had been on the verge of complaining about it until they'd boarded and she'd seen how packed second class had been and heard the screaming of a tiny infant somewhere around the middle of the cabin. Getting to first class was reasonably quieter, far more peaceful, and any misgivings she'd had about the waste of money getting first class seats suddenly melted away into nothingness.

"Thank god I chose firs' class," Remy said as he put their hand luggage in the baggage area above them. "Can y' imagine sittin' in that f' hours listen' t' a lil' babe scream like that?"

Rogue got comfortable in her window seat, "Kind of glad we can barely hear it from here. Somethin' about the sound of cryin' babies always gets to me," she admitted.

"It's a biological thing," Remy said, "'cause o' y' sex."

"Huh?" she lifted her eyes to him.

"Somethin' in the brain or somethin'. I remember Magneto blabberin' on about it. Wanda was gettin' all frustrated about the soun' o' a baby cryin' when we stopped at a diner f' coffee on the drive t' the weddin'. He said some kin' o' thing kicks in when women hear the soun' o' a baby. Men mos'ly get frustrated. Women feel sympathy. Probably hormones. Hearin' a baby cry make y' feel broody, y' body hear it an' tell y' y' supposed t' have one."

Rogue scoffed at the idea of this and she put her seatbelt on. "And what does the sound of it tell men?"

"I don' know 'bout other men, but it tell me I need t' buy more condoms," he grinned at her.

She rolled her eyes at him and glanced towards the window, she could see airport staff passing back and forth, there still seemed to be luggage getting loaded. "You're not interested in kids?"

"In theory, they're okay. As long as they ain' mine."

"You don't got any, then?" she asked, glancing towards him. It'd struck her mind that a man who liked to be with women as much as Remy LeBeau surely might have had some child with someone somewhere.

"When I was aroun' seventeen, some girl tried t' convince me she was pregnan' wit' mine...we'd had one stupid drunken thing at a party. I used protection – I always have, but she swore up an' down the thing failed an' it were mine. Jean-Luc tried t' push her int' havin' a paternity tes' before the birt' just t' prove it, 'cause he had suspicions about it."

"What happened?"

"Baby came out lookin' distinctly Asian," he chuckled, "turn out she had a drunken fling wit' someone else that same week..."

Rogue laughed at the thought of this. "What if it had been yours?"

"I don' know," he shrugged, "Didn' love the girl, an' her father absolutely hates me wit' the burnin' passion o' a thousan' fiery suns..." he sighed, "Wasn' gon' work out really."

"Did you panic, when you didn't know?"

"Kin' o'," he supposed. "I mean...all kin's o' things wen' through my head. It's not that I'm that selfish but..." he frowned, "any kid o' mine...if it's a boy, it means he technically born int' the family business," he said, being pointedly vague about it in case any other passengers might be listening. "Legitimate or not...he'd be expected t' succeed in the business, y' know? They'd make sure from the momen' he coul' walk, he was gon' be groomed int' the family business. It's toxic...wouldn' wan' that on any kid. It better that his daddy is some inves'men' banker in the city."

"If the family business is that toxic, why do you even want to go back?" Rogue asked of him.

"They migh' be toxic, but they still my family. Only family I ever known," he shrugged. "Some stuff I miss about home...I been away f' a few years...got t' go back eventually. 'Sides, there's some stuff I wan' pack up that I left. Tie up some loose ends, stuff like that."

"What loose ends?"

"Jus' stuff. Not really importan'."

"If you say so."

---

Rogue couldn't believe the size of the plantation house that Remy's father owned; as they drove up the long oak-lined driveway in their rental car, the break in the trees finally revealed a massive pristine white mansion with Corinthian columns and a huge upper balcony. Large French doors led out onto the huge front porch and the centre doors and the front doors looked freshly painted.

"It's been fixed up a bit since I been here las'," Remy admitted as he drew the car to the side and parked it beside a large Range Rover, a Jeep Wrangler, and a Fiat 500 which looked to Rogue, decidedly feminine.

Rogue had only vaguest memories of seeing this place through his eyes when she'd touched him years before, but none of it had looked quite like this. It was far grander than she'd imagined. "It's...stunnin'."

He sat in the drivers seat for a moment, drawing a breath, "they can be kin' o' a lot, y' know? If I start t' get frustrated, jus'...let me deal wit' it. I always simmer down eventually."

Rogue thought this was quite self-aware of him. She unlatched her seatbelt and got out of the car, heading to the back to get their bags from the trunk. As she waited for him to come help, she glanced around the land around the house, everything was so incredibly green and lush, and far different to how she'd imagined it

"It's really somethin'."

"Y' think this is impressive compared t' where we live in Bayville?" Remy asked as he took his tote bag from the back of the car and swung it over his shoulder.

"It's a different kind of impressive," Rogue said, "Ah forgot how beautiful it is down here...and how different the air is..."

Remy smiled at her, and led the way, "C'mon...le's go."

Just as they'd almost gotten to the porch steps, the front doors opened, and there was Jean-Luc LeBeau. He looked less gaunt than Rogue remembered him looking; he'd put weight on, definitely around the face and gut, and his hair seemed a little thinner.

"Remy, my boy. It's been too long," he yanked Remy towards him and bear-hugged him. Rogue saw the way Remy stiffened a little in Jean-Luc's arms.

"Sure has," Remy supposed, he stepped back, "y' remember Rogue, righ'?"

"How can I f'get?" Jean-Luc greeted her warmly, he reached to hug her but she stepped back and Remy quickly threw his arm in front of Jean-Luc to block him, it was so fast it had almost seemed like instinct.

"Whoah there, what y' think y' doin'?" Remy demanded.

Rogue caught the look of almost alarm on Jean-Luc's face, but he seemed to recover quickly, he looked at Remy with some concern.

"She's got powers an' they can't be switched off," Remy warned his father as he breezed by him, "no touchin' her. Ever."

There was almost something about the way Remy said it that threw her off a little. She understood he had a duty to protect his father, but at the same time, she couldn't shake off the feeling of unease it left her with.

Jean-Luc said nothing regarding his son's warning and he gestured for Rogue to enter the house, he gave a faint smile at her, "please, come in."

Rogue stepped into the grand hallway, everything was wallpapered in luxurious damask, it was slightly overwhelming, but beautiful. Old oak wood wainscotting lining half the walls, beautifully made antique furniture. The smell of beeswax furniture polish hung in the air. The parquet floor beneath her feet looked immaculate. She heard the doors shutting at her back as Jean-Luc came in behind her.

"Where's Henri?" Remy asked.

"He out somewhere out back," Jean-Luc shrugged, "He's puttin' up a fence."

"Fence? Since when we need a fence out back?"

"Lot has changed," Jean-Luc supposed. "Lots to tell you about."

"Who's Henri?" Rogue whispered to Remy as she met with him at the bottom of the stairs.

"Ol'er brother. Secon' in comman' o' the guild."

"Remy!"

Rogue and Remy both turned as a petite and extremely attractive young woman came from a room to the side; her eyes were so clear they almost seemed like Caribbean waters, and her hair was the colour of wheat, hanging in messy tendrils around her face. She rushed up to Remy and had thrown her arms around him before he'd seemingly even had the chance to react – there was a tense moment of Remy being strangely still, and then he hugged her back.

"Belle..." Remy managed, and Rogue saw from the way he moved he seemed almost confused, and his response to her was weak and almost...awkward. It was the first time she'd really seen Remy feel remotely awkward about anything.

Hello...what's goin' on here? She thought curiously as she searched her memory banks for lingering memories from Remy of the the girl's face and name. She seemed familiar but she couldn't place it. She only knew that the had meant something to Remy at some point.

"Bella Donna..." Jean-Luc spoke up, "this is Rogue..."

Rogue felt the blonde weigh her up with a quick glance as she looked past Remy's arm. The blonde seemed surprised, curious, and definitely seemed to be observing her.

Ah feel like a bug under a microscope, Rogue thought.

"I heard y'all was comin' down here for a visit after all this time," the blonde – Bella Donna – stepped back from Remy to examine him. Now that Rogue could get a better look at her as she was standing still, she could see the girl looked at least about five or six months pregnant.

"Rogue, this is Henri's wife, Bella Donna."

Remy turned to look at his father, his expression said 'what?'. Rogue wasn't used to seeing genuine shock on Remy's face; he was always so purposefully calm and composed but she saw everything slip the second that Jean-Luc introduced the blonde. After he composed himself quickly, Remy straightened his posture, "you married Henri..." he turned back to Belle.

Wow, he sounds shocked...upset, Rogue realised. He looks like someone had just slapped him in the face with a catfish.

"About a year ago...Henri wanted to write and tell you – couldn't quite get an address," Belle held her pregnant belly, "all we knew was you were somewhere in Detroit or Chicago...you just fell off the radar. We tried to find you so many times so you could make it to the weddin' but we had no luck."

Remy shifted from foot to foot, "I was workin'. Freelancin' in my fiel' kin' o' means bein' incogneto, an' hard t' locate at times. I didn' have a fixed abode at that time..." he explained. He turned to Jean-Luc, "why didn't you say when I called?" he asked with the tiniest hint of demand in his voice.

"Didn' get the chance," Jean-Luc said, "well, the phone call was barely a few words, y' jus' tol' me y' was comin' Thursday aft'noon, and that we'd talk then."

Remy was quiet for a moment, his eyes locked to Jean-Luc's.

"When y' called y' tol' me y' was bringin' Rogue so...I figured that meant y' moved on anyway..." Jean-Luc added.

"Yeah, I did," Remy said, and he reached out and put his arm around Rogue's shoulders, and the way he did it with such a sense of familiarity caught Rogue immediately by surprise. The way he pulled her to him was a little too familiar.

What is he doin'?

"Well, it's good to see you after all this time. Until you called Jean-Luc at the start of the week, we were startin' to think you might have died or somethin'," Belle gave a light tinkling laugh. "So...you two...?" she asked, tilting her head, looking between them. Rogue caught an almost flicker of something akin to intrigue in her eyes. Or was it jealousy?

Rogue almost went to answer but Remy squeezed her against his body before she even had the chance to open her mouth and he spoke for her.

"Yeah. We t'gether," Remy spoke up.

What? Rogue tried not to respond. She turned to look at him and struggled to hide the confusion she was feeling.

"She my woman," Remy added, almost as if he had to emphasise it for effect.

Since when? Rogue scoffed inwardly. We had one date, and we never talked about it ever again...

"I changed all the beddin' for you two, put on your bed jus' a few hours ago, still smells like a summers day fresh off the line," Belle said sweetly.

Wait, we're sharin' a room? Rogue felt her stomach drop. He never told me that! Ah thought Ah'd have a room to myself...Ah can't share a room with him!

Belle continued, "Fresh towels in your bathroom, and I washed some of the clothes in the drawers for you, Remy, they were startin' to smell a little stale since it's been so long since you were here."

"Thanks, chere," Remy remarked, and he seemed to immediately regret calling her this because he corrected himself, "Belle."

Belle's face seemed a little concerned with his odd behaviour, it seemed even she knew him well enough to recognise his level of discomfort with the situation, "you both better go on upstairs and take that stuff up, get settled. Dinner be in about an hour and a half," Belle suggested.

"Eatin' this early?"

"Yeah, why not?" Belle shrugged. "Chicken for dinner."

"What, no gumbo?" Remy seemed disappointed.

Rogue leaned into Remy to mumble, "she can't have seafood...she's pregnant."

Remy's eyes fell to her pregnant belly, he seemed disapproving and unhappy.

Belle smiled, "six months gone...I can't wait until this kid drops...I've been cravin' crayfish since mid-July."

"Not long to go," Rogue supposed, "When you due?" she asked, not really caring but deciding it'd be polite to make some conversation to try and negate the definite awkwardness she felt emanating from Remy.

"Around mid-January...doctor reckons around the thirteenth," Belle rubbed her stomach and sighed, "it can't come quick enough. Anyway, I better go prep that chicken before I throw it in the oven. You two go settle...relax."

"If y' need anythin', let me know," Jean-Luc said, "I got t' go finish up some guil' stuff in my office. See y' at dinner."

"Yeah," Remy nodded.

Jean-Luc went to a room on one side of the house and Belle disappeared into the other. Rogue watched Remy's face grow a little dark, he composed himself, "c'mon, let me show y' our room," He took her hand and led the way; again, the familiarity was very surprising.

"Our room...?" Rogue whispered as she headed up the stairs at his side, their pace quick. "What the fuck?"

"Sssh," he said under his breath and he turned right at the top of the stairs and moved down a wide hallway and opened a door, gesturing for her to go through.

Rogue hoisted her tote bag a little higher up her shoulder and entered the bedroom, glancing around.

It felt odd to enter into what she realised, had been the room Remy had grown up in. The bed was old fashioned, an oak frame, king sized with an incredibly deep mattress and the thing sat high, nearly reaching the top of her thighs. The bedding was plaid and even from where she stood, Rogue could smell fabric detergent, see those sheets had not only been cleaned but pressed too.

Remy's room, unlike what she'd seen in the hallway, was more modest, modern and liveable, but it was definitely still the room of a teenager. The walls were painted beige, and there were some framed posters on the walls of old action movies that he'd clearly been a fan of in his teens – Jaws, Indiana Jones, and Enter the Dragon. Shelves were lined with collectable action figures still in boxes, there was a modest television on top of a huge dresser. A narrow window-seat was tucked into the deep recessed wall and a large panelled window rose up five feet from it; the room had a lovely view of the river and swampland slightly downhill.

The minute the door was closed behind him, Rogue dropped the tote bag on the floor and she folded her arms, frowning at him, "What the fuck?" she asked again, keeping her voice low. She had no idea how sound was going to carry in this house.

He looked away from her, his expression apologetic, "sorry."

"That's it? Sorry?"

"I jus'...reacted weird."

"Weird is an understatement," Rogue decided, "What is she? An ex?" she asked perceptively. The way he'd reacted, the girl had to be important and it was the only thing she could think of that would have him make up such a stupid lie.

"Yeah...guess y' coul' say that...I suppose," he looked slightly defeated.

"You suppose?" Rogue scoffed, "You looked like you'd seen a ghost the second she came in the room..."

"I was supposed t' marry her..." he looked sheepish as he tossed the tote bag into the corner and went to sit on his bed, his sigh was more of a grunt. He rubbed his neck, shaking his head at himself.

That explains the weird look Ah saw on her when she saw the way he grabbed me to him, Rogue realised.

"You were supposed to?" she asked after taking a breath through her nose.

"It was an arranged thing. Our families thought it up. She's from a rival guild. The Assassins."

"Assassins?!" she gasped.

"Sssh. Yes."

"She's killed people?!"

"Jus' bad people. Bad, baaaad people. S' the credo, they only kill who deserve it, same as we only steal from whom can affor' it."

Rogue took a deep breath and exhaled to calm herself. He's brought me right into a home with a killer in it! What was he thinkin'?!

"These people deserved t' die, trus' me."

"So it what went wrong?"

"Nothin' really wen' wrong. Things was fine, we had fun, we got along...everythin' was good..."

"Did you love her?"

He seemed conflicted about saying it.

"Well?"

"It was ages ago...years, chere."

"Years...?" she asked, tilting her head.

"We was engaged four years ago..." he sighed. "I lef' maybe two...three years ago..."

"Why didn't you marry her?"

"Thin's got...too real, I guess. We started plannin' the weddin' an'...I wasn' in t' it. Couldn' imagine bein' wit' anyone f' the res' o' my life at twenty-one. An' I hones'ly didn' believe in rushin' the rest of our lives t'gether to serve as some kin' o' peace pact 'tween the guilds. I fel' boxed in so...I tol' her I needed some time. An' I...lef'."

"And didn't come back..." she finished for him, frowning.

"Yes," he muttered, he rubbed his head. "Until now, that is..."

"Ah see," Rogue said, she moved to the window to go look outside, from the window she could see the swamp at the back of the house the mangrove trees looming, thick with Spanish moss. "Why didn't you say this before? Why did you never ever mention any of this to me?"

"I didn' even consider it," he shrugged, "hones'ly...this blin' sided me. I'm rarely surprised, y' know that but...chris', I did not expec' her t' be here."

"Was she the loose end you were going to tie up?"

"Yeah," he admitted sheepishly. "Once we was settled here, I was gon' go see her, apologise f' the way I lef' things. I just...I wanted t' be sure she wasn' hangin' on still waitin' or anythin'."

"Sure doesn't seem like she was," Rogue folded her arms, "Guess she didn't waste any time," she gazed around the room, eyeing his poster of Jaws. What was it with men and their obsession with movies like that?

"I'm kin' o'...relieved in a way."

"You don't seem it. In fact...you seem kind of mad..."

"I'm not mad...I'm jus'...pissed that no one tol' me. I hate bein' fuckin' blindsided like this," he grunted, shaking his head in disgrace.

"How can they tell you if you make yourself hard to find?"

Remy frowned at her a little, "y' takin' her side now?"

"No, just pointing out the obvious," Rogue folded her arms and hovered.

"Anyway...this...it's better. I got no expectations on me any more. Like I said...I'm...relieved."

"If you're relieved and glad she moved on, why did you grab me? Lie about us bein' together?" she asked.

He didn't answer, but his eyes never left hers.

"Remy...just...be straight with me for once in your life."

"She moved on wit' my brother barely any time after I lef'...I jus' wanted t' try an' hurt her a lil'...make her think that her havin' moved on so fast doesn' bother me."

"But clearly it does."

"It doesn't," Remy tried to asure. "It's fine...I ain' mad. I'm happy f' her...an' him. Really. But I wan' seem like...I'm happy too, that I got things figured out."

"But you're not...and you don't," Rogue looked at him pointedly.

"I'm perfec'ly happy..." Remy said, and he almost sounded sincere, but there was the tiniest hint of unhappiness in his voice that she picked up, that she wondered if it was because the girl he'd clearly once loved had definitely moved on without him. "I like the way my life is goin'. I feel like thin's is fallin' into place."

She wasn't sure she really believed any of this but while she was here she supposed there was little she could do.

Ah could always out him, Ah suppose, she thought. Tell his family he's lyin', that we barely had one date...

As Rogue examined the troubled expression on his face she decided that might not be the best idea. Besides, she had to say here for days and the last thing she needed was to cause any animosity between them. They still had to work together once they returned to Bayville.

"Chere...I'd appreciate it if while y' here, y' jus'...put up a bit o' a charade? I mean...it's only while we're here...that's all. An' we won' be here that much. We be out, I'm gon' take y' t' the city, show y' a good time, we gon' have fun. But while we're here an' they're aroun'..."

Rogue looked at him, there was definitely a desperate look in his eyes. He really did not want to be seen as the one who got dumped, as the one who'd been left in the dust. It seemed to be far too much for his ego to handle.

"How far does it have to go?" she gave in with a long sigh, shaking her head at herself, knowing she'd probably regret it.

"Jus'...do what Jean does t' Scott..."

Rogue tried to think of what he meant. Did he mean Jean's closeness with Scott, the way she sat mooning over him, the way she always touched him whenever she was close to him, the attentiveness and fawning? "Should Ah call you a pet name or somethin'?"

"Sugar," he said, "Y' call me that sometimes at home...always liked it..."

This surprised her a little and she forced a nervous smile. "You do?"

"Mmm," He nodded, "always."

"Ah...don't know about this...Ah mean...with my powers..." she trailed off.

"Jean-Luc know the situation wit' y' power..." he reminded.

"Won't they question why you'd even be with a girl you can't touch?"

"They can question it all they wan'," he shrugged, "but I don' care. I never have."

She looked down at his bed anxiously. Was that going to be part of the charade too? Would they need to share the bed? She'd never shared a bed with a man in her entire life. The closest she'd come was camping and sleeping out under the stars with Kurt, Bobby and Jubilee two summers before. But this was...very different.

"You can take the bed, I'm fine wit' the floor," Remy spoke up, almost as if he'd read her mind.

"What if someone walks in and finds you sleepin' on the floor?" she asked pointedly. "It'd be a tell-tale right away."

"We make up an excuse," he supposed. "Y' kick me out o' bed f' some infraction..." he supposed. "Fartin' in bed, I don' know."

"Do you fart in bed?" she asked, grimacing. She'd never shared a bedroom with a man before and the idea of sharing with a chronic night farter was enough to tempt her to call off the whole thing and leave to go find a hotel.

"No. Do you?" he asked pointedly.

"No," she frowned, "Of course not."

"Then we shoul' be fine," Remy said. "Anyway, migh' be fun. Be like sleepovers as kids."

"Ah never had a sleepover as a kid," Rogue responded.

"Me neither, come t' think o' it," he chuckled. "Sleepovers as an adult though...that's another story," he grinned at her.

There was a loud knock at his door and Remy went to the door and opened it.

"Henri," he said, not sounding all that surprised.

Remy's brother, Henri, was a handsome man even taller than Remy and he was, like Remy, incredibly good looking. Despite they were not in any way related by blood, they almost looked alike, similar hair colour, similar tan, even their builds were similar. Henri's hair was neater, more styled, and he was clean shaven, unlike Remy. He had warm brown eyes, a chiselled jaw and the brightest smile - the most perfect teeth Rogue had ever seen on a man in her life.

No wonder Bella Donna didn't want to wait for Remy, Rogue realised as she admired his muscular physique, his shining biceps, his grin.

"The wanderer returns," said Henri, he slapped Remy on the shoulder. "Sorry didn' greet y' when y' arrived, I was out the back buildin' the new fence f' when the little one comes, didn' know y' even got here. Belle jus' let me know just now," he rolled his eyes, "Women, eh?" his gaze moved past Remy to look at Rogue, and he tilted his head, intrigued. "An' who this?"

Remy moved away from the door, "this my girlfrien' – her name Rogue."

Rogue almost laughed at how strange it sounded to be referred to as anyone's girlfriend.

"Rogue?" Henri seemed rather confused by the name.

"It's a nickname."

Henri came to greet her, he went in for the same all too familiar hug that Jean-Luc had and Remy, just as before like had with Jean-Luc on the porch, quickly got in the way, putting his arm in front of Rogue as if he thought he was protecting her and not his brother.

"Y' can't touch her."

"'Cause she's yours?" Henri blinked, seeming amused but at the same time oddly wary.

"She's a mutan' like me. Contact wit' her skin triggers it. Can't touch her. At all. Y' got it?"

Henri hovered, looking taken aback momentarily. He made a face and mumbled, "Can't touch her skin, eh? That mus' put a damper on y' love life."

Rogue felt the immediate sting of the words, but Remy was faster than she would have given him credit for to defend it.

"Our love life is fine, mon frère ," Remy snapped, his tone sharp.

Suppose he doesn't want his brother thinkin' he ain't gettin' some, she decided, trying not to show too much hurt all the same.

"I see..." Henri eyed his brother, "so how long you two been together?"

"A long time," Remy replied, which Rogue felt was a little vague. "She's the one f' me."

"I guess she' mus' be. Other than Belle, I don' think I see you las' more than fortnigh' wit' any girl."

Is that true? Rogue pondered as she glanced to him briefly.

Remy folded his arms, "About that. Y' asked Belle t' marry you...y' mus' have jumped on that the momen' I left," his tone slightly scathing.

"Look, you weren' here. We got close...an'...things happened. She wan' get married, I wan' get married...she wan' kids, I wan' kids. It fit to help bring peace 'tween the families...things been quiet here since y' left."

Rogue glanced between the both of them hoping that this situation wasn't going to turn into a fight. She knew how brothers could be and the last thing she wanted was to have to try to get between them to stop anything physical. If Henri was as well-trained a fighter as Remy was, she doubted she'd make any impact.

"I get she were y' firs' love, but...you weren' here...an' life goes on, it don' wait f' when you're ready."

"I never expected it to," Remy remarked, his expression darkened a little.

"Anyways, soun's like you moved on jus' fine yourself," Henri pointed out, he gazed upon Rogue. "So...I know what he does. What is it you do?"

"Huh?" she asked, feeling awkward and small as she stood near the two men.

"He means career wise," Remy elaborated as he sat on the edge of the bed again.

"Ah'm...an instructor, at a school for people like me and him," Rogue gestured to Remy, she moved over to Remy, "we both work there."

"You're an instructor too?" Henri nodded at his brother, seeming amused at the thought of it, he gave a laugh.

Remy was fast, responding before Rogue could start to answer for him.

"I'm trainin' t' be an instructor..."

You're such a damn liar, Rogue thought, fighting the urge to speak up and correct the lie. You help with security, you're a handyman at best when you're not in the field. Instructor my ass.

"You? Who woul'n' even entertain the notion o' trainin' guild members, y' now trainin' mutants?" Henri was definitely surprised.

Remy didn't respond this time, and Rogue decided to not speak up, she supposed to embarrass him in front of his brother might be cruel and she didn't need an argument ruining the long weekend before it had even started.

"Are y' bot' in one o' those mutant groups that fights all the terrorism?" Henri folded his arms and leaned against the wall casually.

"If we were, we woul'n' be able t' say so," Remy pointed out, he drew Rogue towards him so she had no choice but to sit upon his knee, his arm slid around her waist and he held her.

She tried not to let her embarrassment kick in although instinctively, her back stiffened at the gesture. She tried to remember high school acting classes, fought to remember how to relax despite her deep embarrassment and tension. Play along. You can get him back for this crap later when we get back to Bayville. You can humiliate him in the Danger Room to get your own back. Just...go along with his charade for now, she thought at herself as she carefully put an arm around Remy's neck, "we help people. When we can..."

"Can y' even make a livin' doin' that?" Henri eyed Remy almost suspiciously.

"Not remotely as lucrative as bein' a Thief," Remy answered honestly, he squeezed Rogue's waist a little, "but it's...rewardin' in it's own way an' infinitely more excitin'."

"That means y' get int' fights a lot," Henri rolled his eyes. "Y' always were int' fights more than finances."

"I have a fantastic home, frien's, money in the bank, an excitin' life an' a beautiful woman," Remy grinned and he gave Rogue a pointed look to which she had to fight to not roll her eyes at. "What else is there?"

"Security...marriage...kids...a future," Henri supposed, he glanced at his smart watch and sighed. "Anyways, I got some shit t' do 'roun' here an I better get back t' it 'fore Belle has my guts f' garters. But I'll see y' at dinner."

"See y' then," Remy nodded in the direction of his brother and they both watched Henri leaving the room, shutting the door behind himself.

Rogue waited a moment for Henri to be a little out of earshot, listening to the sound of his footsteps down the hall before she decided to speak up.

"He seems...nice..." she admitted.

"Yeah, but what he seems an' what he is are two very diff'ren' things sometimes," he held onto her waist still despite Henri had gone. "If he were that nice he woul'n' have married my ex."

"Can't blame him..." she snorted and rolled her eyes, "look at the girl...she's gorgeous."

Remy raised an eyebrow at her.

"Ah practically fell in love myself," she snorted as she stood up. "No wonder you were crazy about her."

"What made y' think I was crazy about her?" he asked, he got up and moved over to the window and opened it, he sat on the edge of the window seat and stared out, his expression sullen.

"You looked so hurt," Rogue supposed.

"I'm not hurt, I'm jus'...thrown. I don' care that she moved on, it's jus'...the betrayal."

"If you say so."

---

Dinner had been delicious, and Rogue envied that the petite blonde pregnant Belle knew how to cook far better than she did. Rogue stared around the beautifully decorated dining room as she half-listened to the men talking. The phrasing and words were vague, it almost seemed to her they were using words that didn't make sense at times, giving each other pointed looks or sometimes slipping into French, which she knew very little of.

Ah really need to start studyin' French again, she realised as she sipped her lime cola and gazed over at the other end of the table where Remy, Henri and Jean-Luc were speaking under their breaths leaning towards each other. Maybe Remy could tutor me privately. Ah'm sure knowin' another language wouldn't hurt.

Rogue was beginning to feel somewhat ignored by Remy, and she didn't like feeling so out of place and alone at the table; she was the odd one out, the only one here who really had no place being there. She felt like a stranger, an interloper, despite the invitation. She'd never been good at being social with people, she felt like that outsider teenager again she'd been in high school. Being sat next to Bella Donna made her feel like being put at a cafeteria table with the most popular girl in school and really not knowing how to talk to her or impress her.

"They're like this a lot," Belle said to Rogue quietly, "every time the LeBeau men get together, they talk in their little riddles."

"Yeah...Ah...figured that's what they're doin'," Rogue said, her voice barely a whisper. She wondered if Remy even heard her.

"It's guild business. I'm assumin' you know about the guilds...if you've been wit' Remy a while, he must have told you."

"Ah know enough...know what Ah need to," Rogue turned to look at her, "Ah've had some insight...more than most."

"Oh, that's right. Jean-Luc tol' me," Belle raised her glass of orange soda to her lips, her clear turquoise eyes inquisitive. "You're the girl who can suck the powers and the life out of other people. I heard all about you...how you save Jean-Luc's life once usin' your powers. ."

Rogue gazed at the blonde, feeling deeply uncomfortable with just how much her power had clearly been discussed.

"He said you can draw their memories and skills too. That must make you quite powerful," Belle seemed mildly impressed and intrigued. "And...dangerous."

Rogue could find no response, she didn't want to agree although Belle was definitely not wrong.

"You ever kill someone with y' powers before?" Belle asked bluntly. It was a question that caught Rogue completely off guard.

"Belle," Remy warned from where he sat across the table, finally seeming to have tuned into their conversation. His eyes were on the blonde, and his expression looked almost angry, there was a silent discussion going on between them momentarily it seemed and Rogue felt her anxiety flare.

"What?" Belle responded, "I'm just curious...I mean...she's a mutant...it's possible, right? And it's not like we've not all had to snuff someone out at one point or another..."

Rogue tried not to think of this, tried not to imagine Remy as the kind of man who might have killed before. He'd never mentioned that before and she really didn't want to ask him, worried that knowing something about that - even if it'd been in self-defence - might make her feel differently about him, might make it more difficult to work with him in the team. Often, she still had those feelings about Logan, worrying about who he had killed and why, trying to push it out of her mind as if it had never happened, knowing that 'out of sight and out of mind' didn't really apply when it came to killing people...even when it was necessary.

"Ah haven't killed anyone," Rogue decided to admit.

"Not even someone who deserve it?" Belle asked.

"No," Rogue shook her head. "That's...that's not what Ah'm about..."

"What's the poin' in havin' all that power if you don't even use it to do some good," Belle seemed frustrated with the idea.

"Rogue does more good in a week than mos' o' us coul' ever do in a lifetime," Remy said, his tone firm and protective.

Rogue eyed Remy, noticing the way he'd said it almost made it seem like he truly believed that. Did he really think that highly of her or was this just more of his acting?

"All that power, though..." Belle seemed wistful.

Jean-Luc spoke up, "In our line o' work, somethin' like that kin' power woul' be incredibly beneficial," he agreed.

Rogue suddenly felt deeply uncomfortable.

Remy frowned, "f' get it. She's not here t' help wit' a heis'. She's here f' a vacation. My girlfrien's powers ain' here f' you t' take advantage o'."

Rogue couldn't help but feel that tiny jolt of discomfort to be referred to as Remy's girlfriend for the second time that day.

"All I did f' you as a kid, y' can't even help y' ol' man out?" Jean-Luc raised his glass of pale ale to his lips.

"I've helped y' out plenty, an' so has my girlfrien'" Remy said.

Three times he's said it now, Rogue realised uneasily. He might be goin' a little overboard tryin' to emphasise it. Maybe he should try to cut it down a bit, he'll start to make it obvious that Ah'm not.

"We're here t' relax, t' enjoy ourselves," Remy continued.

"Don' y' miss the grift, son?" Jean-Luc eyed him. "Y' goin' aroun' up North freelancin'...but it can't be half as excitin' an' challengin' as what we do."

"Y' really got no clue," Remy chuckled "The life I lead-" he stopped himself and self-corrected and he gestured towards Rogue, "the life we lead...it's full o' adventure, ain' that righ', ma cherie?" he asked of Rogue.

Rogue supposed he wasn't exaggerating at all. "There's never a dull moment, that's for sure."

"That's why we down here, f' a bit o' a breather from all that excitemen'," Remy explained, "thought it be nice t' catch up wit' y' all...wit' out it leadin' t' crime."

"That's the LeBeau way though," Henri started chuckling.

Belle began clearing the plates, and Rogue stood up – she was eager to escape the discussion. She now understood what Remy had meant about his family. They might be 'nice' but they were also very opportunist, it seemed.

"Here, let me help," Rogue offered.

"That's real nice of you, chere. These three..." Belle gestured towards Remy, her husband and father-in-law, "don't do much at all around here except eat an' make a mess."

"Hey, we work, we fund your luxury lifestyle here, don' we?" Henri said.

"It'd be much more luxurious if we had a swimmin' pool," Belle griped as she collected plates with Rogue's help.

"Why we need a pool – there's a perfec'ly good river righ' down the bank," Henri rolled his eyes at her.

"Yeah, an' it's full o' gators."

"Incentive t' swim fas'er," Jean-Luc jested and Rogue gave a light laugh in response at the banter.

Rogue and Belle left the dining room and headed into the LeBeau kitchen, it was large, and incredibly old fashioned; the only modern additions as far as Rogue could see, were some modern looking black marble worktops, a free standing stove and a large fridge.

"I'll get my pool one day," Belle said after a moment as she took the dishes to the sink, "and a goddamn dishwasher."

Rogue smiled weakly as she placed the pile of dessert plates and a few glasses onto the counter by the sink.

"Right now, all the funds are bein' sunk into gettin' this house to look like a home again. For the longest time, it was fallin' apart – it still partly is. I tol' Henri he better fix it up unless he wanted me to move back in with my Daddy."

"It's a beautiful home," Rogue admitted.

"It's beautiful, sure. But it could be better. Plumbin' is a joke – barely any decent water pressure," the blonde turned the old fashioned hot water faucet on at the huge ceramic sink and Rogue saw that the water pressure indeed was pathetic. "It's on the list of to-do. Along with a new roof, the three bedrooms to the right of the stairs need redone – and need to get the boathouse rebuilt completely. It's barely more than a wooden shack, right now," Belle nodded her head towards the windows behind the sink. Rogue leaned over to look out, down the hill she could see the boathouse that the blonde spoke of, it was dilapidated looking, the paint worn, there seemed to be part of the wood missing from a part of the wall near the door.

"It's had some batterin's from the last few storms. One more bad storm is gonna take the entire thing out - every time I hear the wind pick up Ah have this image in my head of the boathouse flyin' away like the house in Wizard of Oz," she chuckled. "I keep tellin' Henri to get that boat out of there before it ends up gettin' wrecked with it."

"Y'all have a boat?" Rogue queried.

"Just a small one. Seats six," she put dish soap in the sink. "So, how long you and Remy been together anyways? He didn't really answer when I asked before dinner."

Rogue winced inwardly; she and Remy hadn't quite discussed their fake backstory and what she should say if anyone asked.

"Hard to say. Ah...ain't been countin'."

The beautiful blonde blinked, "Never met another woman who didn't know the exact amount of months and years she's been wit' her man."

"Me and Remy have been..." Rogue trailed off, she thought for a minute, "on and off...for a real long time. Ah gave up countin'. Ah've known him since Ah was sixteen and...from then, it's...been hard to say"

"I see."

"He...said you and him used to be...y' know...together," Rogue leaned on the counter, eyeing the blonde curiously. She wanted to see if Belle had insight, or would reveal something interesting about Remy.

Belle gave a faint smile, "Once. We was engaged – did he say?"

"Yeah, he said," Rogue confessed.

"We got as far as startin' the plannin' o' the weddin'...I even had the dress all picked out, knew what cake I wanted. We started fightin' a lot more. He got cold feet, ran off north and...cut all ties. We'd had breakups before that...too many to count. He usually came back. This time...he just...didn't. I figured he was done, he was goin' aroun' sowin' his oats all over the place an' havin' a time to himself. I wasn't gonna sit around and wait for his ass to come back," Belle scraped the food from the plates into a trash can. "Henri came back from Paris not long after Remy left and...things clicked," she shrugged.

"Henri is...cute. Like Remy, Ah suppose. All the LeBeau boys so good lookin'?"

"A fair few," Belle paused, "but you know they're not related, right? Remy was adopted. It's just coincidence that they look a little alike..." she shrugged. "They're alike in many ways, but not in personality."

"How you mean?" Rogue asked.

"Henri is...grounded, he know what he want. He got his future all figured out f' him, he know where he's goin. Remy on the other hand has never known where he's goin' from one minute to the next, never seems to know what he wants. He just drifts like a leaf in the wind."

"You filles talkin' 'bout me?"

Rogue turned to the door to see Remy standing there, a cigarette was tucked behind his ear, his expression smouldered as he looked at her, a smirk played about his lips.

"Of course," Belle slid a few plates into the dishwater, "we were comparin' you to Henri."

"And?" Remy raised an eyebrow.

"His dick is much bigger," Belle decided, her eyes glimmered with devilish glee. "And girthier."

Rogue felt her cheeks grow hot, and she looked down to the floor, pursing her lips. She might have laughed if she and Remy were much closer, if it might have been appropriate to laugh. As it was, all she could think of was how she'd seen him nude before, and that it gave her an idea of what Henri may possibly look like if what Belle said was true.

Don't go fallin' down that rabbit hole, she told herself.

Remy frowned, seeming to not like the bruise to his ego. "Excep' there's one difference, Belle. I know what t' do wit' mine."

Rogue exhaled slowly, trying to release some of her embarrassment.

"Yeah, sure. That's why I'm pregnant, Remy. He doesn't know how to use it," Belle shot.

Remy took a second, then cleared his throat, "Y' can have the bigges' hammer in the workshop, it don' mean y' know how t' hit a nail in the righ' spot."

Belle gave a tinkling laugh, "that was good," she admitted, waving a finger at him. "I'll let you have that."

Remy moved up right behind Rogue, and she felt him touch her hip, his breath tickled her ear as he spoke, "Chere, I'm gon' take a walk, catch a smoke. Wan' come wit'?" he asked, his voice deep, honeyed.

Rogue looked between them both, trying to fight her embarrassment from the conversation. "Well...Ah was gonna help with these dishes-"

"Oh, don't be stupid. You're guests. And I'm pregnant, not disabled," Belle shook her head, "go on, take your walk. I wanna listen to a murder podcast that just dropped anyway," she held up her phone.

"Same old Belle..."

"Hey, I get lots of useful tips from them," Belle grinned.

How can she be so...nonchalant about murder? Rogue pondered concernedly.

"Enjoy the podcast," Remy said, and took Rogue by the hand, he led her out of the back door which led to a small side porch and he directed her down the hill towards the water.

Rogue kept pace with him, surprised that he didn't let go of her hand the entire time they walked. She supposed he had to keep it up for pretences for Belle whose kitchen window was pointed right down upon them.

She's probably watchin' us...weighin' me up, Rogue worried, glancing over her shoulder at the kitchen window briefly but she didn't see Belle's silhouette there at all. Probably thinkin' Ah'm not good enough for Remy.

Trying to push this concern aside, Rogue kept to his side, gripping his hand with her nervous gloved fingers. There was a silence between, and Rogue couldn't help but feel tense at it, wondering if perhaps he wasn't speaking because he didn't want to be overheard by his family. They walked hand in hand for a while until they got down to the river, when he finally let go and took the cigarette from behind his ear; he retrieved his zippo from his jeans pocket and lit it.

"So what y' think o' this place?" he asked of her.

"It's nice," Rogue admitted, she walked slowly at his side. "Your family don't seem as bad as you made out they were," she confessed.

"They have their moments where they're tolerable," he supposed, he took a long drag from the cigarette.

"Belle seems really sweet," Rogue confessed. For a murderer."

"Yeah," Remy supposed.

"She doesn't seem that bad. Neither does Henri..."

"Y' don' know them," he shook his head. "They can be...difficult at times."

"Maybe they grew up while you were away, Remy. People do that, you know."

"Maybe y' righ'," he sighed, "but...jus' be careful wit' them, okay? They can all be manipulative an' opportunis', y' know."

"Kind of like you then?" they stopped at the small pier near the river and Remy moved to the rail at the right side.

He flicked the ash from his cigarette into the water, "Y' see me as that way? Even after all this time we've spent together?" he watched the water.

"Ah still hardly know you," she reminded, she moved to his side and let her arms lean on the rail.

"Whose fault is that?" he asked, he turned to look at her.

"Yours," she answered decidedly, eyeing him.

"How it mine?"

"You're so...mysterious and cagey," she admitted.

"Says the girl whose name I don' even know," he pointed out with a smirk, he took another drag of the cigarette.

"You know what Ah mean," she rolled her eyes at him.

"I'm tryin' here, cherie..."

"Tryin' how?"

"Why y' think I ask y' out here in the firs' place?"

Rogue paused, "to get boots?" she shrugged.

"I brough' y' here 'cause I wan' y' t' know me. I ain' ever asked a woman down here before."

"According to your brother, you rarely stick with a woman long enough for invites down here to even be broached," Rogue remarked.

"Shoul'n' that say somethin'?" Remy exhaled a lung full of smoke and he flicked his cigarette ash away again. "I brough' y' t' the only true home I've ever really known...t' meet the only family I've ever really had."

Rogue felt his hand on her back and she turned to examine his handsome face as the last light of sunset illuminated him with a pinkish orange hue. His eyes seemed almost gold in the light.

"But it go bot' ways, cherie..." he stroked her back, "if y' wan' get t' know me...y' got t' let me know you. Y' say I'm mysterious an' cagey...but y' don' see you are so much the same way. Maybe that's why we get along so well...we so much alike, you an' I."

Rogue turned a little towards him, "Ah don't think we're alike at all..."

"Maybe y' jus' don' wan' see it..." he brushed a lock of her hair from in front of her face. Rogue wondered if his tenderness was deliberate, if he was putting a show on in case his family or Bella Donna might be watching from the house slightly up the hill.

He might be hopin' Belle is watchin' us, might be hopin' to make her jealous.

"C'mon," he took another drag from the cigarette and exhaled, "I wan' show y' this place."

---

The two walked for while over the grounds and Remy showed her around a little until the sun finally dipped down beyond the horizon. It was still early evening when they returned to the house, and when they entered the hall, Jean-Luc was coming down the stairs, dressed all in black.

"Remy...I need a word," Remy's adoptive father announced as he got to the bottom of the stairs, his face serious, his eyes dark and intense.

"Go t' the room, chere," Remy touched Rogue's shoulder gently, "I be up soon, oui?"

Rogue gave a nod and started to climb the stairs, the voices of the two men carried up and she slowed her pace to listen, feeling slightly guilty about attempting to eavesdrop.

"Nous avons besoin de vous pour ce travail," Jean-Luc said in a low voice.

French...so they're tryin' to avoid me knowin' what's bein' said, she realised. Just like at the dinner table.

"Non," Remy responded, slightly impatiently. "Je t'ai dit que j'avais fini."

She got to the top of the stairs and paused at the rail to look down at them.

"Jacques est blessé. Il est à l'hôpital."

"Ce n'est pas mon problème," Remy snorted.

"Ton frère va avoir un bébé dans trois mois. Nous avons besoin d'argent."

Rogue stepped around the corner hoping she was out of sight. She listened, trying to pick up on any words she vaguely recognised. For the most part she only understood hospital, problem, and three.

"Ce n'est pas mon problème," Remy repeated. "Je ne l'ai pas épousée. Ce n'est pas mon enfant."

"S'il te plait mon fils. Nous avons besoin de toi," Jean-Luc said sternly. "Tu me dois. J'ai effacé tes dettes."

Remy gave a deep resounding sigh and after a moment, he spoke. "Ce qui est nécessaire?"

"I'll tell you on the way," Jean-Luc decided, switching to English once again. "You better go let y' girl know you be home late."

Rogue went to Remy's bedroom and waited for him, he arrived a moment later, his expression grim.

"What's goin' on?"

"My cousin is in the hospital," Remy said, "I need t' go t' the hospital t' visit him."

Rogue had heard the word hospital used in French, but she wasn't sure she believed his story. "What happened?"

"I..." he paused, seeming to be looking for an explanation and having none to give.

"You don't know?" she raised an eyebrow.

"Fine, I don't. He got injured or something. They was mean' t' be workin' t' night – they was takin' my cousin Jacques. It what they was talkin' about at dinner..." he moved to the dresser and yanked out some clothes – all black.

"Are...you going on a heist?" she asked, suddenly realising what was going on.

"Yes."

"But..."

"Look, they need money. They've sunk nearly every penny int' gettin' this place fixed up over the las' year an' the bank is near empty. Henri an' Belle are gon' drop a kid in three mont'...they need some security. This job gon' provide a bit."

"It's not your problem though," Rogue pointed out.

"I know that..." Remy sighed, "but...I have to," he shed his clothes quickly and began changing in front of her. "I'll be back come mornin'. Y' barely even notice I'm gone."

"Ah thought you said you'd given up a life of crime?"

"It's a one off," he pulled his pants up quickly and buttoned them, "this the las' time."

"What if you get caught? Ah can't bail you out, Remy!"

"Chere, I been doin' this a while now, I never been caught yet," He yanked on his shirt and smoothed it down. He opened a closet and retrieved a pair of boots, "it'll be over 'fore y' know it."

"What am Ah meant to do until you get back?" she huffed.

"Make y'self at home. Only rooms off limits are Jean-Luc's office an' the bedrooms. Don' go t' the other side o' the house, those rooms is condemned – roof is collapsin' there an' the floor is rottin'."

"But..."

"I see y' in the mornin'."

He was gone before Rogue had even had another chance to object.

Damn you, she thought irritably at him. Only Remy LeBeau would do something like invite her on a four day weekend then leave for the night to go on a heist with his father and brother.

---

Rogue milled around his room for an hour on her own, but eventually grew bored and decided to go downstairs to look around properly. Make yourself at home, she reminded herself he'd said.

The first room she headed for was the living room, a spacious room with pale gold wallpaper, velvet sofas and very ornate rugs. She looked around at some old family paintings, not really knowing who any of these people might be, and she wandered over to an old antique console table to examine the various framed photographs there. The photos were all old, mostly black and white photos, mainly taken – as far as she could tell, around the early twentieth century. LeBeau relatives no doubt. A small sepia photo showed what the plantation house had looked like when it'd first been built. It had definitely been expanded since then.

"There's none there of him there, if that's what you're lookin' for."

She jumped a little and turned, "Ah was just-"

"It's fine," Belle laughed, she approached. "Came lookin' for you. Thought I'd better check on y' since y' man has abandoned you for the night – jus' like mine did," she adjusted the framed photos a little. "These photos are all ancient. The most recent one you'll find there is of Jean-Luc's granddaddy..." she pointed to a child in the arms of a very miserable looking woman in a frumpy dress.

She bent down to the shelf under the table, "this is what you want..." she pulled a book out of the large stack.

Rogue curiously followed as Belle led her to one of the mustard coloured antique couches and they sat together. The blonde flicked through about eight pages through the very large photo album and stopped, "there you go..." she tapped a photo.

The photo was definitely of Remy...he was small, a scrawny little pale faced child who was dark under the eyes and gaunt faced. His unusual mutant eyes made him look horror movie haunted, his hair was in horrible condition, uncombed and poorly cut. He looked barely seven, maybe eight years old.

"Remy..." Rogue said quietly.

"Firs' photo Jean-Luc ever took o' him."

"He looks...dirty...and sick."

"Yeah, that's how Jean-Luc found him. This was that day."

"How'd he find him?" Rogue turned to look at Belle.

"Story I was tol' by my husban' is that Remy was livin' on the streets, pickpocketin'. Jean-Luc catch him tryin' to thieve his wallet. He only had t' take one look at him t' know the kid was...not doin' too good. He brought him home an'...kep' him. T' be hones'...they don' really talk about it."

"Really?" Rogue asked. "Why?"

"Not sure. I don' think Remy really likes bein' reminded he ain' from their blood an'...I don' think Jean-Luc really...ever tol' the guild that Remy ain' really his kin."

"How did he explain he suddenly had a new son?" Rogue asked

"You'd need to ask Jean-Luc, I guess. Probably pegged it down to Remy bein' some result of a one night stand that he got lumbered with years later..." Belle flipped the page, "this is about six months later..."

The next photo of Remy from six months later was a drastic difference. His hair had been cut short, and he was chubby, tanned and smiling, a basketball in his hands. It was almost like a completely different child. "Huge difference."

"It's amazin' what some care an' love can do t' a kid," Belle supposed, she flipped the page to show more photos of Remy growing up.

"Remy always...gave me the impression that...this family wasn't big on love," Rogue admitted quietly.

"No, there's plen'y love," Belle turned to look at her, "it's just that he doesn't trust love. I guess you can't blame him. Jean-Luc love the boy deeply, but...he's also always took advantage o' Remy."

"How?" Rogue asked, she looked through the photos of Remy at about twelve or thirteen.

"I think 'cause Remy isn' blood kin like Henri, Remy always kin' o' felt...competitive an'...he was always so eager to please Jean-Luc, do anythin' f' him, y' know. Jean-Luc definitely plays on it. Even to this day. Wouldn't be surprised if that's why Remy went along tonight."

Rogue examined photos of Remy aged at about fourteen or fifteen, one was clearly a school photograph. "What was he like back then?"

"As a kid...to begin with he was...real shy. Quiet..." she bit her lip, "used to get bulled you know, for bein' what he is. Eventually...he learned in this life that you can either be a victim or be a survivor. He's always been a survivor but...Jean-Luc had to point it out, y' know?" she shrugged.

"What was he like as a teen?" Rogue queried.

"Sweet...and carin'. Once he figured out how to make his charm work for him, he never really was able t' settle for jus' one girl...much as I always hoped some day he would. Me an' him broke up more times than I can count, barely a day later he'd be in some other girl's panties. I don' know why I ever thought it'd be a smart idea to marry him," she frowned at a photo of him by a tent. "He's bad for cheatin'."

Rogue was silent, looking at the photos.

"I mean..." Belle sighed and she looked genuinely regretful, "Sorry. You probably don't want to know that. I'm sure it's differen' wit' you..." she handed Rogue the album and she got up. "I better go to bed, get some sleep. No doubt when Henri gets home, he'll wake me up like he always does with all the noise. Leas' if I get some sleep now I won' be exhausted come mornin'..."

The blonde left the living room and Rogue sat there with the photo album in her lap. She sighed quietly and closed the book and went to put it away. Suddenly she wasn't in the mood to look at the photos any more.

---

Rogue spent the rest of the night alone in Remy's childhood bedroom, waiting for Remy to return. The clock seemed to tick so slowly, and she could not get comfortable in his bed. His mattress was too soft to properly get comfortable on and his pillows were in her opinion, too thin. The room was stifling hot; she'd forgotten how hot nights could get in the south. She tried to distract herself by watching three episodes of a drama show on Netflix on her phone, but it did little to keep her occupied.

It was almost four in the morning when eventually the bedroom door did open and Remy crept in quietly. She lay in the dark, pretending to be asleep, listening to the sound of him moving around, the sound of his clothing being discarded, the tapping of his feet on the hardwood floor as he went to the adjacent bathroom and turned on the shower above the old fashioned bathtub. She listened to the water running, to the sounds of him moving around. She rolled over on the mattress, gazing across the room which was slightly illuminated by the light coming from the bathroom door which had been left partially open. A floor mirror was angled just right and she shifted across on the mattress to watch him, so she could see him through the hazy transparent shower curtain as he washed himself.

It was such an oddly intimate moment to watch how he washed himself, observing the way he scrubbed his fingers through his long layered hair, the way he roughly rubbed at his face with the soap, the way he massaged at his neck beneath the shower head. He turned the water off and slid the curtain aside, reaching for a towel and putting it to his head. He stood there drying his hair, his body facing the mirror, her view of him almost perfect except for slight distortion from the angle. He wrapped the damp towel from his hair around his waist and he came to the room, she closed her eyes and listened to the padding of his wet feet on the wood as he moved to find himself some pyjamas at the dresser.

She decided to finally let him know she was awake. She feigned a slight sigh, trying to sound sleepy, as if she'd just been roused from slumber by the small light he had turned on at the other side of the room.

"Remy?" she asked, she feigned a small yawn.

"Sorry, I wake y'?" he asked, his voice a soft whispery breath.

She sat up, rubbing her hair away from her face. "You just back?"

"Yeah," he took a pair of pyjama pants from the drawer and came over to the edge of the bed and sat, the pants still in his hand.

"How'd it go?" she asked, she leaned forwards a little.

"It wen' okay...few minor injuries, nothin' much to complain about."

"Minor injuries?" she asked.

He pushed the towel away from his right thigh so she could observe a rather obvious bruise running all the way from the middle of his thigh – even in the dim light, it looked painful.

"What happened?"

"A pipe I was usin' t' cross a high ceilin' from an air vent collapsed...I fell about twen'y feet down. Landed on a pile o' cardboard boxes but...it still hurt..." he shifted the towel away from his hip to show the bruising went right up to his hip and side.

"Is it sore?" she asked through gritted teeth, she tried to avoid gazing further, the towel was barely covering him and it made her burn with embarrassment.

"Eh, it's fine," he shrugged.

"It looks painful, Sugar..."

He was sitting there so close to her, so tangible and beautiful. Her eyes dropped to his bruising again, it looked painful and angry.

"You shouldn't sleep on the floor with a bruise like that," she supposed; it didn't look like the kind of bruise that'd be comfortable to sleep on, although she wasn't particularly sure about which side of his body he actually liked to sleep on anyway. The few times she'd caught him sleeping at home in Bayville, it'd seemed to her he was a stomach sleeper.

He let out a strange breath, something of a 'huh' sound. "Pro'lly not," he supposed.

"It's...its a big bed," she glanced at the mattress thoughtfully.

"Yeah...plen'y room on it," he agreed.

She chewed the inside of her cheek, the silence between them felt palpable and intense, and her heart hammered at the thought of him lying next to her in the bed, hammered hard at the thought of how very exposed all his skin was, and what it might be like to touch him. And as she lifted her eyes to him, she saw a look that said he recognised exactly what she was thinking – and what's more...she knew he was thinking along those same lines too.

And then a muffled female moan next door caused them both to break that eye contact, they both turned to look at the wall behind the dresser, where the moan had come from. She immediately understood what the moan was, but it was the first time she'd ever heard a sound like that in person before. A few more varied moans followed, this time both male and female, and creaking of what Rogue realised was definitely a bed.

Her stomach flipped at the thought of what was going on in the room next door, it sounded...enthusiastic and passionate.

Does it always sound like that? Rogue wondered. Or are they puttin' that on for Remy? Is Belle tryin' to make Remy jealous?

She turned to Remy and saw his expression looked somewhere between disappointment and fury. She couldn't blame him for the fury. That was his ex- girlfriend...ex-fiance...ex-love, and his own brother was screwing her next door, his grunts carrying through the wall

Distract him, take his mind off of it, Rogue told herself.

"Remy..."

He turned to look at her, his expression one of frustration at the situation. "Yeah?" he asked, she saw him actively fighting to ignore the sound of the sex next door. The frequency of the creaking was rising, the moaning becoming louder. In her mind, it was hard to not picture it, the positions, the looks on their faces, the way their bodies were probably slick with sweat. The thought made her ache and she hated that.

"We...could put somethin' on the television..." she suggested. "Or put some music on...or..." she tried to think of ways to distract from what was happening, the sounds coming through to them, the thoughts. "Or..."

"I think I'm gon' go f' a walk," he decided emphatically.

"It's four in the mornin'..." she pointed out, glancing at the bright red numbers of the LED clock on the bedside cabinet.

"I don' care..." he shook the towel off and quickly started pulling on the pyjama pants, "it's hot in here, need some air..." he grabbed where he'd tossed his hooded sweatshirt earlier and pulled it on and left his bedroom without another word, and Rogue sat there on the bed, the sound of Belle's and Henri's sex ramping up.

Is that even right to have sex that hard durin' pregnancy? She wondered. She wished she hadn't thought of it at all. She decided Remy had the right idea - she couldn't just sit there and listen to this right now.

Remy seemed really off...Ah should check on him. This isn't like him.

She sighed and got out of the bed, sliding her feet into her sneakers and left the room; she gazed down the hall, seeing the door of the room next to Remy's was hanging ajar, and the noise was definitely carrying louder in the hall than it had in Remy's bedroom.

She knew better. She definitely knew better. And yet she couldn't help herself from creeping across the hall to lean on the wall and twist herself to gaze through the small gap; her eyes filled with the sight of Henri's strong, tanned naked form slamming into Bella Donna's petite pregnant naked body from behind, her hands gripping the wooden headboard hard, her swollen breasts shaking, the slapping of their bodies powerfully loud. He slowed, twisting her around and pulling her ontop of him, and they kissed passionately, his large hands cupping her swollen breasts as Belle's small hand moving between them to guide him before she started to ride.

Rogue felt transfixed in a state of both shock and envy. She envied their deep intense kissing, the way Henri's hands explored Belle's perfect tanned skin, the way his mouth slid down her chin and jaw, Belle's hands in his hair, moaning as she writhed on him.

She was deeply uncomfortable watching them and yet, at the same time, couldn't draw her eyes away – she almost felt hypnotised. It was clear to Rogue that the two definitely enjoyed each other's company. The way their eyes locked to each others told her everything she needed to know about the heat in their relationship. This was real passion...at least, that was how she interpreted it. She didn't have enough experience to know for sure but what she saw gave her every impression that this couple felt more deeply for each other than Remy had seemed to believe earlier that day.

Ah shouldn't be spyin', she thought. She wasn't sure she'd be able to get the sight of that sex out of her head. My own fault, Ah suppose.

Holding her breath, she crept back down the hall and towards the stairs; just as she'd gotten to the bottom and felt like she could actually exhale again, she almost ran into Jean-Luc who had turned a corner from where his private office was located.

"Rogue..." said Jean-Luc.

"Sorry," Rogue said, her cheeks were still burning furiously at the sight of what she'd seen from the married couple's bedroom.

"Lookin' f' Remy?"

"Yeah," Rogue said.

"He wen' out f' a cigarette, out back."

"Oh."

Jean-Luc glanced up the stairs as a moan drifted down from Henri's and Belle's bedroom. Rogue wished the ground would swallow her up right at that moment. Jean-Luc gave a sigh, "Not again. Guess gon' have t' get the noise cancellin' headphones out if I expec' t' get any sleep t'nigh'."

Guess that means that noise is pretty common round here, Rogue realised. To her, that seemed to suggest what was going on might not have been to enrage Remy. They could be more considerate, Rogue decided, she bit her lip and couldn't find anything to say so she passed by Jean-Luc, trying to swallow her embarrassment and she headed to the kitchen to get to the back door.

Remy hadn't gone too far outside, only near where part of the new fence was built; he was standing smoking, examining Henri's handiwork. In the garden lights, Rogue could see his posture was stiff, uncomfortable, and she wondered if that was tension or the bruising on his right side.

"Hey," she greeted him as she approached.

"Henri did a not bad job o' this, considerin' he's shit wit' carpentry an' such," Remy banged a hand against the six foot high fence.

Rogue realised he was deliberately changing the subject before she could even get onto it. "Could you build better?"

"Probably," he said, he put his cigarette to his lips and took a long drag, "I'd have picked a nicer fence. This kin' o basic."

You're going to small talk me about fences after what we heard? Rogue thought, she would have been amused but the thought of Henri's powerful body slamming into Belle had her thinking so much of sex. Was that how it looked when Scott and Jean made love? Henri's build was similar to Scott's, his face was even slightly similar too...

Stop it...Ah shouldn't have even been spyin' on them. It was really stupid. Ah'm makin' things more difficult to myself.

"Like you know what you're talkin' about," Rogue decided to play along.

"I built that arbour over there..." he gestured to a bench which had been built into the front half of an old rowboat. It was painted a pretty sage green and ivy from the bushes behind it had started to grow around it.

Rogue moved over to the arbour and took a seat; it was sturdy, solid, "not bad," she supposed, she ran her gloved hand along the edge of it.

Remy followed her, flicking his cigarette ash to the ground. "Used to be our old rowboat. Her name was Lady Luck. I named it when I was ten."

"It's cute."

Remy leaned on the arbour frame near her, looking down at her. "I missed y', t' night, y' know."

"What?" she blinked.

"I'm so used t' bein' on missions wit' you bein' there...it felt...weird not havin' y' there wit' me...not havin' y' there t' have my back."

Rogue chuckled, "oh. Ah thought maybe you meant you just...you know, missed me in general..." she teased, she dropped her eyes to the ground, examining his bare feet buried in the slightly overgrown grass.

"I did."

She raised her eyes to his, surprised by the admission. "You could have stayed with me...instead of runnin' off to go play master thief."

"I had obligations."

"You're not a thief any more, Remy. You left," she pointed out.

"It's not that simple," he sighed and he dropped into the seat at her left, he took a drag from the cigarette, exhaled and then flicked it away.

"What's not that simple?"

"It jus'..." he shrugged, "this life...this family. There's things I sometimes got t' sacrifice. B'sides...it been a while since I spen' time wit' them. Was good t' catch up, do a one off."

"Will it be a one off?" she asked.

"Yeah, I swear."

Rogue gazed at the house as she shifted in her seat a little, she wondered how long it'd take before Belle and Henri were done with their intense screwing session. In her mind, the sound of Henri's body slapping into Belle's kept playing in her head. She had to wonder if that'd have hurt. Belle certainly didn't seem to be complaining any – quite the opposite in fact. She kept seeing the way they'd looked at each other, it kept replaying, that powerful look in their eyes as Belle had been on top of Henri.

Was it like that with her and Remy? Did they have sex as intense as that? Did he love her like Henri does?

The way Henri had been with Belle...the way he'd touched her, groped, kissed, the way he'd pounded into her like his life depended upon it. Rogue ached for something as intense and deep as that...and as she looked at Remy, she realised that right at that moment, she ached for that with him in the same way she had on Jean and Scott's wedding night.

Can't happen...not in that way, she reminded herself frustratedly.

"Chere?" he asked, concerned with her silence.

She turned to look at him, examining him in the pale garden lights. "Ah really..." she drew her breath. She bounced her leg, she felt on edge, frustrated. She didn't know how to go about this, especially not without the bravery of too much vodka and champagne. She wanted to pace, or run, or...do something. Anything that would distract her from this aching, this longing.

"Yeah?"

"Ah'm really tired..." she decided, she ran a hand through her hair. She wasn't tired. She was wide awake and her blood was pumping around her centre at the thought of Remy as Henri, with herself as Belle. "You comin' to bed?"

"I'll be up in a few minutes," he said softly.

Soon as you're sure Henri and Belle are finished, Rogue thought.

"Ah'll see you upstairs, then," she decided. She stood slowly, smoothing down her pyjama top.

She went back into the house and upstairs, just as she'd gotten to the top of the stairs she heard the last moan coming from the bedroom at the end of the hall, the bed ceased to creak. She felt relieved and she went back into Remy's room and climbed back into the bed.

Sitting there in the centre of his king sized bed, she felt alone and small. She checked her phone for messages and emails, finding nothing of interest except the usual spam. Not sure what compelled her, she went to Tabitha Smith's Facebook account and went into the photo albums, to look at the many photos she'd taken from the wedding.

She located the ones Tabitha had taken of when she'd danced with Remy. Seeing herself in his arms felt oddly different now that she looked at it. She remembered the awkward drunken feeling of trying to match his steps, stepping on his toes, of tripping on her dress, of stumbling in her stilettos. But none of that showed in the photos. In the photos, she saw something that hadn't been obvious then when she'd been dancing with him. She'd been too busy watching the others at the wedding, watching she didn't bump into others to notice the way he was really looking at her. The way during in every single photo of them together, he never took his eyes off her.

"Reminiscin'?"

Rogue blinked herself out of reverie of thoughts and she turned behind her, where Remy had been standing by the bedroom door; she wondered how long he'd been there watching her swiping through those photos.

"Ah never really looked properly at them before."

He moved onto the bed, climbing to the spot behind her but slightly to her side to look at the screen with her; there was a photo of them dancing a little closer; Remy looked so contented, smiling.

"We look good t'gether."

"You look good. Ah look like Ah'm one vodka away from bein' in a gutter," she snorted.

"Y' looked stunnin' an' y' know it..." he leaned with his arm behind her back, looking at her phone as she swiped. "That night was..." he trailed off, pausing.

"Was what?" she turned to look at him.

"Amazin'."

"It was a nightmare...the thing with Lance, Ah was drunk, Ah couldn't walk..."

"It was a good time," he chuckled.

And then Ah made a fool of myself, Rogue remembered. She sighed, put the phone away and shifted over to the left side of the bed and slid beneath the cool thin blankets, sighing.

"We should get some sleep," she decided, she adjusted the pillows at her side and spent a moment or two getting comfortable. She heard him cross the room to switch off the light he'd turned on earlier when he'd gotten home. She lay listening to him shifting around, and she stared at the window, watching the moonlit clouds shifting slowly across the dark sky. She sensed him hovering and something felt different right then and she couldn't place it.

The mattress buckled as he climbed onto the bed and she lay listening to the shifting of the sheet. She wasn't remotely tired, she felt oddly wired and anxious; she tried to focus on her breathing because it'd become uneven and staggered.

Ah'm lyin' in bed with Remy LeBeau. God, no one at home would believe this, she thought in disbelief as she stared at the window, she could hear a gentle wind in the trees outside, and the house settling. Out in the hall, there was an old fashioned wall clock and even from where she lay, she could hear it ticking. The night silence felt so palpable, everything felt so intense. At her back, she heard his breathing changing, becoming more rhythmic, gentle and slow. For a while she listened, lying perfectly still, too afraid to even shift in her spot in case she should disturb him. In the hall, the clock gave five, soft, melodic chimes. It was five in the morning now.

Slowly, she eased herself onto her back, trying not to let the mattress shake and she inclined her head to look to her side to where Remy was sleeping soundly on his side, he was facing her and his head was crushed into his pillows, his hand gripping a handful of blanket. In the moonlight, she could make out his features...it was the most relaxed and comfortable she'd ever seen him and somehow, seeing him sleeping reminded her of the photos of him as a child that Belle had shown her. He almost looked innocent and pure, and the thought amused her.

Somehow it felt so strange to be near him like that...it felt...oddly to her like...some kind of honour. Being with someone in bed, when they were at their most vulnerable. To him, it probably wasn't important, but to her...it meant something. She just...wasn't entirely sure she wanted to admit to herself what it was, yet.

---

When she awoke, the large red numbers on the LED clock beside the bed said it was almost eleven am, and Remy LeBeau's spot on his bed was empty, his pillows in disarray, his side of the blankets hanging off the mattress. She groaned that she'd practically missed near enough an entire morning. Tired and a little hot, she decided to go downstairs – still in her pyjamas – and headed for the kitchen. She could hear a radio playing, and animated talking, and she hovered in the hall for a moment to listen.

"Well you were the one who thought it'd be such a good idea gatecrash that party."

"You were the one who wan' go t' it."

"All I said was I was sad I didn' get invited. You were the one who snuck us in."

"That raid was crazy though," Remy chuckled.

"God, my daddy was so pissed when the cops took me home and told him I'd been drinkin'," Belle snorted, "and you. Asshole. Didn't even stick around to spring me. You took off like a bat out of hell the momen' you heard the police yellin' at the door."

Rogue listened to their reminiscing, Remy was laughing heartily. She hated not being a part of this, and hated that Remy seemed to be genuinely having a good time talking to his old flame. She peered in and saw that Remy was sitting at the kitchen table, a coffee cup in his hands, still dressed in the pyjamas and the hooded shirt he'd worn to bed the night before. Belle was standing by the stove, an old fashioned griddle was on the stovetop and Rogue spied pancakes bubbling away; the blonde flipped the four pancakes expertly then turned back to Remy.

"Remember that time we stole the cop car and drove it all the way to Mississippi?" Belle pointed her spatula at him.

"Yeah. Cop only wen' t' get a coffee an' a donut, an' the idiot lef' the key in."

"That was so much fun," Belle chuckled.

"'Member we pull the guy in the Lexus over an' I write him up a ticket on the pad cop lef' in the car?" Remy laughed.

"Yeah, I watched the guy freaking out..." she giggled.

"Always won'er if he ever wen' t' pay it," Remy mused.

Rogue decided to finally interrupt, feeling a little left out. The relationship between Remy and Belle felt quite comfortable, and although she was certain the girl definitely loved Henri, she also couldn't help but sense that Belle still had strong feelings for Remy too.

"Mornin'," Rogue decided to announce herself.

"Mornin', sleepyhead," Belle grinned at Rogue.

Rogue moved over to where Remy sat at the table, and she put her arm around his shoulders, leaned down and kissed his hair very carefully, feeling tense about doing so but determined to make a show for Belle, "Mornin', Sugar."

"Mornin', y'self," he turned and looked at her, his eyes twinkled a little. She wasn't sure if he was amused by how well she was playing the fake girlfriend role, or if he sensed her slight jealousy about his relationship with Belle.

"You like pancakes?" Belle asked.

"Love 'em," Rogue said.

Belle got a plate from the cabinet.

"Belle makes the bes' pancakes in Bloodmoon," Remy announced.

Rogue tried not to feel irritated about this. Remy had definitely tasted the pancakes she'd made before during one of her many turns on the cooking rota at home, and he'd not really said much about them. In fact, the one thing he never complimented her on was her cooking.

Belle plated up some pancakes and brought them over to the table as Rogue sat cornerwise to Remy at the sturdy oak table. "I'll bring y' some coffee."

"You shouldn't be runnin' about so much after us, you're pregnant," Rogue pointed out.

"I'm pregnant, not an invalid," Belle went to get the cutlery and a cup of coffee. "So...what you two lovebirds plannin' on doin' while you're down here?"

Lovebirds, Rogue scoffed in thought.

"I'm gon' take her t' see Monsieur Labatt," Remy grinned. "Some girls get a glass slipper like Cinderella. My chere, she get nine thousan' dollar custom boots."

"Better than a Louboutin," Belle laughed as she put the coffee cup down in front of Rogue. "Remember you took me to him to get boots?"

"An' y' made a joke abou' wan'in' them in pink...an' he didn' realise y' was bein' sarcastic?"

"I still have them, you know. Baby pink...they look so stupid. Like I'm gonna cosplay some anime girl at a Comic-Con."

Rogue stared down at her pancakes, listening to them reminiscing again. She hated not having much input, and hated how much Remy and Belle really seemed to connect and enjoy each other's company.

Whenever me and Remy try to spend together, it usually ends up in an argument, she thought sullenly. She picked up the jug of Maple syrup and poured some over her pancakes, which looked picture perfect.

"Hey, y' got another pair. Midnight black, jus' like y' wanted."

"Yeah," Belle supposed, she rubbed her belly. "Damn kid is kickin' again. He's definitely a LeBeau."

"So y' know it a boy?" Remy asked, he sipped his coffee.

"Not for sure. But I feel it's a boy. Sometimes you just know," Belle explained she took Remy's hand, "here...feel," she urged as she pressed his hand against her bump and held it there, her eyes pointed at him.

Remy blinked, "oh yeah...I...feel it..." he admitted. And right then, Rogue was sure she almost saw a sense of discomfort on him. He pulled his hand away and he picked his coffee cup, "feel like he got your spirit."

"Hopefully," Belle rubbed her belly affectionate, "Rogue, do you want to-?"

"Ah probably won't feel much through these gloves," Rogue held her hand up, "anyway, you're probably sick of people touchin' your belly like you're some kind of Buddha."

"It's not so bad," Belle took a seat at the table. "So...where you two gon' go once you get measured for boots?"

"Gon' show her aroun' proper. We been here once t'gether...but it was a fleetin' visit."

Belle sat forward, "you should definitely go see Tante Mattie."

"Who?" Rogue looked between them, she cut herself some pancake and took a bite, she was livid with how good it tasted.

"She's...on the council o' guilds," Remy replied, "she own a voodoo shop in the city...it's more like a museum about voodoo an' the history o' it rather than a shop."

"It's a front, really...for money launderin'," Belle grinned, leaning in and keeping her voice low. Her turquoise eyes glimmering with excitement.

"No it ain'," Remy remarked, "it's a real shop. It were her Great grandmere's shop, she inherit it."

"Sure, right," Belle smirked. "Anyway, you should go."

"Rogue ain' interested in voodoo," Remy put his coffee cup down.

"Ah wouldn't mind," Rogue admitted. "Could be kind of interestin'..."

He turned and looked at her, "really? I thought y' didn' believe in magic."

"Ah also didn't believe that people could have powers and fly, once upon a time. Things change."

Belle leaned on the table, "you should get your future read. Tante Mattie does cartomancy, y' know."

"What's cartomancy?" Rogue queried.

"Kin' o' like...divination wit' playin' cards instead o' tarot," Belle explained. "You know...she was the first person to ever give Remy a pack of cards..." she smirked, "and it became his signature weapon."

Remy smiled a little at this and Rogue felt that sense of being an outsider again. So much history was shared there between them and she had no part of it. She sighed inwardly and pushed the cut up pieces of pancakes around a little in to the puddle of syrup at the edge of the plate.

"I'm sure Tante Mattie will be so glad to see you. She always asks about you," Belle got up and walked across to the fridge and took a carton of orange juice out. "She misses you."

"Kin' o' miss her, too. No one squeezes the life out o' me harder than she does."

Belle laughed, "Yeah...her hugs are bone breakers for sure."

"Y' seen Gris-Gris lately?" Remy asked, he took a sip from his coffee.

"Back in prison. Again."

"F' what?"

"He got int' a fight wit' a drug dealer...an' won."

"He kill 'im?" Remy asked worriedly.

"Nah...nearly though. He was drunk though, so he didn't pay attention to the cameras on the street. Police recognised him...pick him up the nex' day for attempted murder. He's waitin' on the trial. Y' daddy says he got him a good lawyer though. Reckons he'll get him off."

Who's Gris-Gris? He's never mentioned him before, Rogue thought as she quietly ate, listening to the two discussion.

Belle stretched, "I really should be gettin' Henri up soon, we're supposed to go to Julien's. He needs help puttin' up some stupid shelf or somethin'."

Remy laughed, "Big Assassin...can't even put up a shelf?"

Who's Julien? Who are all these people he never talks about? Rogue wondered.

"Not if he wants it to be level," Belle grinned.

"So...how Julien take y' marryin' Henri, anyway?" Remy queried of Belle.

"Oh, he was gonna murder Henri when Henri showed up to ask for my hand in marriage. Daddy and Grandpere had to pin him down an' hol' him to the floor for twenty minutes 'til he calmed down."

Remy rolled his eyes, "yeah, same reaction I got."

Rogue chewed her lip, still finding it so odd to imagine Remy having proposed to Belle at all. The idea of him being committed to anyone seemed peculiar, given what she'd learned from being in his head, given his reputation.

"Remember he grabbed the box with the ring in it and threw it in the swamp?" Belle chuckled.

Rogue somehow couldn't imagine Remy proposing properly with an engagement ring...it didn't really seem his style. Then again, looking at Belle and how perfect she seemed to be...Rogue supposed he'd have done everything by the book for her.

He didn't marry her though, did he? She pointed out to herself, trying to make herself feel better.

"Not funny. I spen' four days back an' fort' lookin' f' that fuckin' ring."

"And then you gave up and bought another..." Belle grinned. "You let me pick."

"Did y' pawn it?" he asked.

"What else was I meant to do with it?" Belle asked. "Yes, I pawned it – and I used it to pay for the caterer for the weddin'."

Rogue thought it quite unfeeling that the girl could pawn an engagement ring.

"Henri didn't want me havin' your ring an' all. Said it'd be too...weird."

"Yeah," Remy agreed.

"Anyway, best for closure, huh?" Belle pointed out.

"True."

Rogue stared down at her plate again, it felt so uncomfortable to be here and have to listen to them discussing their history. She had no proper input for this. She was about to take another bite from her breakfast and she felt Remy's hand upon her forearm. She turned her attention to him, but his attention was still on Belle.

"Things worked out anyways," Remy said to Belle, his hand rubbing Rogue's arm affectionately. "F' the better, I'm sure."

"Yeah, seems like we all won in the en'," Belle agreed. She smiled genuinely, her eyes were so clear and Rogue was mesmerised by them.

No wonder Remy fell for her, look at her...she's gorgeous...and she's so...perfect. She's almost like Jean...except she kills bad people for money.

"So...when you two gonna tie the knot?" Belle asked, her elbow propped on the table, her cheek propped up by her open palm.

Rogue blinked at the question, she didn't really have an answer that would suffice. She briefly glanced to Remy, half expecting him to look uncomfortable, and panicked.

Remy simply sipped his coffee, not saying a word, his eyes didn't leave Belle.

"You haven't asked yet?" Belle frowned.

Rogue slowly turned to Remy again, his expression had changed now, the confident mask had slid a little, and he seemed almost sheepish but he kept his eyes locked to Belle.

"Or are you hopin' she's gon' ask you, like I did?" Belle smirked.

Not having spoke for some time now, Rogue decided to join in the conversation, mostly because she was now intrigued.

"You asked him to marry you?" Rogue asked.

"Course I did," Belle leaned back in her seat, "I was growin' tired of him not makin' a commitmen'."

Remy sniffed, "That wasn' how it happened."

Rogue turned to him, examining his handsome face; his eyes hadn't left Belle in some moments. "How did it happen?" she asked of him.

"Yeah, how did it happen?" Belle grinned.

"We was talkin' about a movie set in the future..." Remy dropped his eyes to the table finally, his expression thoughtful, "an' you said 'do you ever think about the future?' an' I said 'Not really'," he shrugged.

"And then?" Belle challenged.

"You said we need t' be thinkin' 'bout ours an' said it's time we probably star' thinkin' about gettin' married..."

"Ah...thought it was supposed to be an arranged marriage?" Rogue spoke up. "To bring the guilds together?"

"It was," Belle said, "we was betrothed since we was kids...the council of guilds decided it," she explained. "We always knew we was supposed to marry."

"She didn' really propose, we was always engaged...we jus'...didn' have it official until there was a ring," Remy explained.

"My daddy was pushin' for us to make it properly official since we was seventeen," Belle explained, "And I was tired of waitin'. I wanted to live together, start a family..." she shrugged. "So yeah, I was the one who asked."

"Her brother Julien was livid though," Remy said with a grunt, "threw the ring int' the swamp. He knew we were always gon' get married eventually but...he hate me."

"He hated you even more when he figured out you weren't going to go through with the arrangement," Belle spoke up. "I spoke to him last night online...he says he better not see you anywhere in town or he's gonna rip you a new dickhole."

Remy chuckled.

"Charmin'," Rogue made a face.

Belle stood, stretched a little, "I better go wake my lazy ass husband up, 'fore he sleeps the day away like usual," she made a face. "What you two lovebirds got planned for the day?"

Lovebirds. Hah, Rogue thought dully.

"We're gon' get dressed, head on int' the city," Remy said. "Got lots planned."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, I'm gon' take my chere t' the La Laurie house after we get her measured f' boots."

Rogue turned to look at Remy with some surprise. "Really? We're goin' to the La Laurie house?" she asked, she tried not to be too excited.

"Thought the grisly history an' ghost stories migh' appeal," Remy patted her hand. "I know y' love that kin' o' thing. Always see y' watchin' those ghos' shows on y' phone when y' workin' out in the Gym..." he squeezed her fingers and grinned.

"Ah've always wanted to go see the La Laurie house," she felt her face pulling into a smile.

"I also thought y' migh' like t' see one o' the cemeteries, too."

"Absolutely."

"You goths...so easy to please," Belle laughed softly as she headed for the door. "You be home for dinner tonight?" she asked of Remy.

"Nah, we gon' eat out...I got a lot o' restaurants I wan' take her t'...an' we only got a couple more days here, wan' take the opportunity t' show her the bes' places..."

"If you two aren't gon' be here then me an' Henri migh' go out too, then. I wan' try an' enjoy a few more date nights before junior comes..." She patted her belly. "You two have fun."

"You too," Remy waved her off.

Rogue waited for Belle to leave the room and she'd heard the footsteps of her going up the stairs, then stood, "Ah better go get showered and dressed."

"Yeah, I'm gon' go smoke a cigarette, call Monsieur Labatt an' let him know we comin' t' get y' measured f' the boots."

"I'll see you in a while," Rogue said, and with that went up stairs.

It was hard to not feel some genuine excitement about the day ahead. She'd not had a proper vacation in so long, and the thought of going to the La Laurie house had her smiling. She'd wanted to go since the last time she'd been here, but there simply hadn't been time. In the past years, she'd thought about going back to New Orleans as a tourist, but there'd never been time, and every time she'd considered taking time off, something had come up and it'd been postponed.

Ah'm glad he talked me into this, she thought as she stripped off in the bathroom and turned the shower on, fussing with the old fashioned handle on the shower until the water was at a tolerably cool setting that'd help her beat the intense heat of the oncoming midday sun. The water pressure was pathetic in Remy's bathroom, the water coming from the large shower-head was barely what could constitute as a light drizzle, and it took her some time to get her hair washed due to the this.

"Are you still in that damn shower?"

Rogue let out a yell, startled, and she grabbed for the shower curtain, although it was incredibly transparent and covered barely anything. She held it over her body, her arms across her breasts, looking at him over the edge of it. He was standing filling the door frame, his hands on the top of the frame. His hair was wet and he was dressed and shaved; she supposed he'd used the guest bathroom that he'd shown her during the quick house tour the night before.

"The water pressure sucks," Rogue complained, trying to not feel embarrassed. She hoped he didn't look down below her waist, she wasn't sure what the curtain was really capable of hiding. She had the distinct impression from the way he was standing looking at her that he'd definitely seen plenty of her flesh through the thin plastic.

"We have an appoin'men' wit' Labatt in fifty minutes. Y' better move y' sweet ass," he said.

"Fine," she grumbled, she waited until he'd left the bathroom and she quickly went about rinsing the conditioner from her hair as best she could, grabbed a towel and left the tub.

Remy was sitting at the desk in his room, a small, old-looking laptop open on it and he was browsing what looked like a booking website of some kind.

"Are you really gonna sit there while Ah'm gettin' dressed?" she asked irritably.

"They think we're t'gether," he reminded. "Henri thinks we have sex. It gon' look weir' if I leave my own room so you can get ready," he said with his back turned to her.

"Henri thinks what?"

"He tol' me las' night when we was workin' about what he think we get up to," Remy spun his chair towards her, his expression amused.

Rogue held the towel to herself, dripping on the hardwood floor. "What'd he say?" she asked, swallowing hard.

"I don' care t' repeat it. Needless t' say, though, it soun'ed like a real good time, though," he teased before he turned the chair back to the laptop, "get dressed, we don' got long. Wear somethin' flexible - y' gon' need it."

Rogue grabbed some clothes from the tote bag she'd not bothered to unpack, and she quickly went to the bathroom to change. She didn't have time to properly dry or style her hair so she simply towel dried it as best she could, run a brush quickly through it and hoped it wouldn't dry frizzy due to humidity. She returned to the room and grabbed her bag from the floor.

"Finally," Remy said, "thought y' was never gon' be ready."

"Ah'm still not," she sat upon the bed, taking her makeup kit from the bag and she started looking through them for her foundation.

"F'get makeup chere. We don' got time," he glanced over his shoulder at her.

"Ah need it."

"Y' look fine," he huffed.

"Ah feel naked without it," she responded.

"Y' don' need it," he stated, his voice slightly firm.

Rogue gazed over at him, she sat with the makeup bag in her hand. "Ah guess after knowin' girls like Belle...now any other girl's looks doesn't compare..." she supposed, she looked down into the open bag.

Remy looked at her, his expression critical, "Y' think there's a comparison?"

Rogue supposed there couldn't be. No one could compare to Belle. Just twenty four hours she'd spent in the company of this woman and already was nearly in love with her herself. She was perfect, poised, funny, sweet and exceptionally beautiful. Just like Jean. Belle was to Remy what Jean was to Scott.

"Not in my case," she supposed quietly, she picked the mascara out and started trying to hunt for her eyeliner in the bag. If she had to rush, at least she could put some eyes on quickly.

Remy shut the laptop with a quick snap and pushed his chair out, he came over to her and grabbed the makeup bag from her and he tossed the thing across the room unceremoniously. Rogue jumped in response as she heard some things falling out, rolling on the wooden floor. "There's no comparison," Remy said, his tone incredibly direct.

"Obviously," Rogue said, she gripped the mascara, it was all she'd been left with, she got up and walked to the bathroom, she felt her anxiety rising in her throat, she felt almost like she was on the verge of tears right then and she didn't know why. She stared in the antique mirror above the bathroom sink, the mirror was slightly chipped at one corner, and the backing had degraded a little, making the glass seem mottled. She pursed her lips together tightly and tried to pull herself together.

You fight people, you help save people every week, but this is what makes wanna cry? You can handle grown men twice your size but this makes you weak? Stop it. You're bein' a stupid little girl, she told herself, trying to imagine it was Logan saying it. She twisted the mascara open, took a deep breath, tried to recompose herself and she started combing it through her lashes. In the mirror, she saw Remy's shape in the door at her back, his shoulder pressed into the right side frame. She tried not to look at the reflection of his face, she was afraid he might be disappointed in her immaturity.

Rogue finished applying the mascara to both eyes, and she closed the tube, she stood there at the mirror, looking at herself, seeing the flaws, the way her chin slightly dimpled which she always found so masculine, the way her eyes were so dull and lifeless in colour compared to the bright green of Jean's, or the intense clear turquoise of Belle's. The way her way her eyebrows were a little sparse at the ends, the way her skin was slightly freckled and her nose seemed too big and her lips too small and jaw too angular.

"Why woul' y' ever even wanna compare t' her?" Remy scoffed at her back.

"She's beautiful, charmin'...friendly...she's clever and...a good cook..." Rogue reeled off, "she's perfect, Remy. Just like Jean," she tossed the mascara into the sink stubbornly.

"I warned y' about her, chere..."

Rogue looked at his reflection. "What?"

"I tol' y' not t' make frien's wit' her," he said. "She's puttin' this act on t' make y' feel inferior, y' know. Even las' night...that loud performance...that was f' the same reason, t' get t' me an' you. She a nice girl, Rogue, but she like t' mess wit' people f' her own amusemen'."

Rogue lowered her eyes and looked into the sink at the tube of mascara. She recalled how the door had been left open a little...had that been deliberate too? Had Belle wanted one of them to peer in and watch?

"And it worked."

"No," he replied.

"Lies," she rolled her eyes. "If it didn't work, you wouldn't have walked out the way you did."

"That wasn' why I walked," he responded, his expression became rather taut.

"Then why?"

"Y' think hearin' that next door was easy f' me?"

"Because you miss her and were thinkin' of bein' with her," Rogue pushed past him and went to the room. She went to pick up where he'd discarded her makeup bag and she began to pickup the things that'd fallen out.

"No."

"Sure."

"It's because I'm fuckin' frustrated, chere," he muttered, his voice seemed slightly thick, tense.

Rogue looked down at the makeup bag in her hands, at the broken cap of her foundation, she felt her body flush and tense. She understood what he meant. It wasn't normal frustration – it wasn't emotional frustration. It was sexual frustration.

"We have to go," Remy decided, "We're gon' be late an' I'm lucky I got this appoin'ment at all," he grabbed the car keys from the dresser, "c'mon."

---

Rogue hated that there was a tension in the journey all the way to Monsieur Labatts. At least from her side there was, anyway. Remy was good at pretending like nothing had happened, and if she hadn't been there for everything herself, if she'd been an outsider, she'd have never picked up on anything having happened just by observing his nonchalance.

But as it was...she did know what had happened, and being in the car with him knowing how frustrated he was, how stressed he was and how difficult it probably was for him to pretend like everything was fine took it's toll on her. It was difficult to not keep going over it in her head.

At Monsieur Labatt's, she was introduced to the custom specialist boot maker who was a large rotund man with jet black hair and piercing violet eyes. After a brief introduction, she was measured extensively from foot to knee, and made to go into a training room built into a barn at the back of his very nice house and encouraged her to run around bare foot, kick at some dummies, climb bare foot over obstacles, and even made to do everything while wearing different weights on her ankles and feet to simulate what kind of weight she might expect from the boots. At the end of the appointment, Labatt had made her spar with Remy so he could film the movement of her feet with several different cameras placed around them. It was until sparring with Remy that she'd finally felt her the tension she'd been feeling all day start to wear off a little; just like at home in the Danger Room, working out always seemed to help with stress.

After the extensive measuring and questioning (colour preferences, what kind of materials she might like, lining, padding, etc), LaBatt told her that the boots would be ready for Christmas. She wasn't surprised it would take so long for boots like that to be custom made to her specifications. After this, Remy took money out and began counting out a very large deposit for the boots in hard cash right there on the living room coffee table.

Ah'll pay him back, she decided. Ah can't accept a gift that expensive...wouldn't feel right.

After the appointment, they went to the La Laurie house and there was very little need for her and Remy to talk to each other as the tour guide was busily showing them around the place, telling the stories about the history of the house and the people who had lived there.

At one point, during their tour of a bedroom, Rogue glanced briefly to Remy for the first time in what she realised might have been almost an hour and she saw him looking at her, his expression was conflicted a little and she wasn't sure what he'd been thinking of. He gave her a faint smile though from across the room and she was sure that things were due to feel slightly less awkward in time.

Ah managed to get over the awkwardness of askin' him to sleep with me at the weddin', Ah got over seein' him with a stiffy, Ah got over that one date that felt kind of...weird at the end. Ah'm sure Ah can get through this too, she told herself.

After a tour of the famous Saint Louis Cemetery, Remy finally decided it was time to eat. They'd skipped lunch due to having had a late breakfast and by six pm, Rogue's stomach was growling.

He took her to a restaurant that wasn't that obvious to outsiders, a smaller independent place where there was a dark and almost dingy atmosphere. He'd been relatively quiet for the most part up until they were seated together and after their order was made, they sat opposite each other and Remy seemed to realise he was going to have to start making conversation again, despite how awkward things had been earlier in the bedroom.

"So...how y' enjoy t'day?" Remy asked, he was leaning back in his chair, his arm propped on the back of it comfortably, his eyes gazing over the restaurant and it's clutter of decorative objects.

Rogue gazed around the place. As much as things had felt undeniably awkward for her, she couldn't deny she'd enjoyed the tours, even the measuring process with Remy. "It was fun," she admitted.

"I'm glad," he said. "After we eat, we go see a ban', I know one playin' in the bar down the street. Y' don' min' jazz, righ'?"

"Ah can take it or leave it," Rogue supposed. Much sooner leave it, she added silently.

"It a great place. They make these amazin' cocktails."

"Ah think Ah should stay away from the liquor," she said, "every time Ah drink with you, somethin' happens..."

He chuckled, "hey, that secon' time, it wasn' my fault some idiot tried t' rob us."

"Whatever came of that?" Rogue asked, gazing curiously at him.

"What y' mean?"

"Ah mean...no one ever came questionin' or...anything. Professor never brought it up."

"I tol' y' I woul' take care o' it...an I did," he said, he frowned a little and Rogue got the sense he didn't want to discuss the situation any more.

Well that kills another topic we can talk about, she thought. That was the issue sometimes with Remy, she never really did know what to talk to him about. She felt so uninteresting and inarticulate when it came to conversation. She didn't have the kind of charm Belle had, she didn't have enough of a history with Remy to reminisce about either.

Even if the girl was as manipulative as Remy had assured her she could be, Rogue still wished she had that kind of charm and history with him, wished she could turn it on like that, be interesting and captivating. If she could be like Belle, she was sure even her powers wouldn't be so much of an issue.

Just as Rogue was trying to think of a good topic to discuss, Remy's phone went off and he removed it from the pocket of his jacket and he glanced at it, his expression darkened.

"What is it?"

"Jean-Luc. He seemed conflicted for a moment, then he sighed, "I jus' be a minute..." he promised, then answered the call. "Yeah?"

Rogue watched as he listened, his eyes moving from side to side.

"Non," Remy said, his voice slightly cold. "Je vous l'ai dit, j'ai fini," he paused, listening, the waitress brought their drinks, he thanked her silently, forcing a smile, still listening to the call. "Je suis en vacances."

His father is buggin' him to do somethin' else, Rogue realised. That's why he's talkin' in French, so Ah can't understand it, can't interrupt or weigh in...

"Pourquoi est-ce mon problème?" he snapped, his lips pursed together, his eyes suddenly full of fury. "Je n'ai pas besoin de cette merde en ce moment."

Rogue was starting to pick up some things, get the gist of what he was saying just by his tone.

"Ce sera la dernière foi," Remy muttered. "Je serai de retour pour neuf heures," he shut the phone off and put it in his pocket.

Rogue sighed, "let me guess..."

"Sorry," he groaned. "It's..."

"You're needed. On a job. Again."

"The day be almos' over by the time I got t' jet...we eat here, got t' leave at eigh' from the bar. Back for nine. We'd be in bed by ten or eleven anyway, ain' like we missin' out on much more..." he sighed.

"Why would you let him talk you into it again? You swore you were done..."

"I know that..." he responded, looking slightly put out.

"Then...?"

"Y' don' understand. He's my father, chere..."

"And Ah wouldn't get it because Ah don't have a father?"

"No, I didn' say that. Pour l'amour de Dieu," he put his palm to his face. "Look...it's hard t' explain it."

"What is this hold he has over you?" she asked.

"It don' matter. We did what we set out t' do, it ain' like I didn' give y' a good day."

"You swore last night was the last time..."

"The future is unwritten," he remarked, "Anythin' can be uncertain."

"If you say so."

---

After dinner, they went for a short while to listen to live music at the bar Remy had spoke of, but with their small argument about Remy's letting Jean-Luc manipulate him hanging over them both, it felt difficult to enjoy anything. The drive back to the LeBeau house felt tense, and they said very little to each other.

Every time Ah think things are gettin' better with us, somethin' happens and it gets worse again, she thought miserably as he parked the rental car in the parking area near the house.

"Y' probably be asleep by time I get home," he said quietly as they left the car, "so I'll see y' in the mornin', I guess."

Rogue leaned on the top of the car, looking over him, "you're not comin' up with me?"

"I got gear on stand by, Henri got it ready f' me."

"You gonna tell me what the job is?" she asked.

"Confidential," Was all he said, he took a cigarette and lit it out.

"See you in the mornin' then, Ah guess," she muttered coldly, unable to hide the bitterness she felt towards him right then. As she entered the house, she was met with the sound of arguing coming from upstairs.

"You always fucking pull this shit!" Belle's voice echoed down from upstairs.

Rogue slipped her jacket off and she hung it up by the door, glancing up the stairs.

"Hey, you wanted this fucking life," Henri yelled. "I can't give it to you unless I work. You knew what I did when I married you. If you wanted someone who worked a fucking nine-to-five, then you should have found yourself a fucking office guy, not a thief."

"You worked last night!"

"Y' doin' my head in, woman," Henri snapped loudly.

"Is this gonna be our life?! I'm gonna be home alone every night with this baby and you're off galavantin' on the grift?"

"You're being melodramatic, for fucks sake," Henri's voice came. "I have to go."

Rogue heard something smash.

"Woman, are you insane?! That vase was antique!"

"Soun' like they're at it again," came a sigh at her side.

Rogue turned to see Jean-Luc leaving his office, a black leather jacket zipped up to his throat, his long, thin greying brown hair swept back from his face with gel and tied in a tight braid that had swung over his shoulder. She felt such a seething disgust for him right, but she couldn't find it in herself to snap at him the way she wanted to.

"Is Remy outside?" Jean-Luc asked, he picked up a pair of leather gloves from the table.

"Yes," was all she managed, aware her voice was slightly icy.

Jean-Luc breezed by her, and Rogue raised her eyes as Henri came down the stairs, his face taut with anger and beetroot red. Rogue and Henri shared a glance for just a brief second as he seemed to realise she'd heard the argument. He stopped and looked at her, then turned briefly to look up the stairs then back to Rogue briefly – she sensed frustration and that he wanted to try and say something, or ask her to go try to calm Bella Donna down, but instead, he simply left the house, slamming the door behind himself angrily.

Okay then, Rogue thought as she headed up the stairs, her neck and shoulders tight with tension. As she turned to the hall to get to Remy's room, she could see Belle's and Henri's room door was wide open, and she moved towards it, gazing in. The young pregnant blonde was sitting on the large four post bed, her expression sad, her face just as beetroot red as her husband's had been. And then, as she spied Rogue standing there at the door, her expression completely changed and Rogue saw exactly what Remy was talking about. The way Belle could turn on the charm like the flick of a switch.

"Oh, you're home," Belle smiled, her eyes seemed to glimmer and she seemed so genuinely pleased to see her.

Jesus, these people are great actors, Rogue realised. Guess she thinks Ah didn't just hear that argument.

"Yeah," Rogue said, "Remy dropped me off...said he's goin' out on the grift again," she threw a thumb over her shoulder casually and gave a shrug.

"Yeah...Jean-Luc got an offer, somethin' came up fast, wort' a decen' amount. Couldn't turn it down..." Belle responded, trying to sound light and unaffected.

"Just us girls again, then," Rogue folded her arms, gazing around the room, there was a lot about the room she hadn't noticed when she'd spied last night.

The room was papered in expensive red wallpaper with gold damask patterns, the four post bed swathed in muslin drapery, there was an antique rug on the floor, and Rogue spied some broken ceramic near it.

Guess that's what she threw, Rogue realised.

"What happened?" Rogue tried to pretend she hadn't overheard the argument.

"Oh, I knocked it with my stupid big belly," Belle lied, smiling as she patted her baby bump. "Junior gets in the way a lot. Guess I'm gon' have eighteen more years of that," she chuckled.

"Here, let me..." Rogue bent down and begun to pick up the pieces of ceramic.

"You don't need to," Belle pushed herself up awkwardly.

"Let someone run around after you for a change," Rogue forced a smile, "You got a dust pan?"

Belle, for the first time since Rogue had met her, seemed momentarily flustered, but she gave a nod and smiled again, "Yeah, I go get it."

Belle left the room and Rogue glanced around the room briefly while the blonde was gone, taking in the room properly. She noted that there was an oyster coloured satin nightgown hanging at the end of the bed, panels of delicate lace detailing where the bust went. There was a bottle of non-alcoholic wine on the floor by the ottoman at the bottom of the bed. To Rogue, it looked like Belle had been hoping for a romantic night with her husband.

They'd had a date night planned, Rogue recalled.

Belle returned with the dust pan and brush and Rogue swept the ceramic away.

"Thanks. It's kind of harder to do stuff like that these days, My belly gets in the way so much. It's just started to kind of get to the point where it's harder to bend over and stand up...pregnancy can be so uncomfortable at times."

"Ah bet," Rogue remarked, not knowing how else to respond. Pregnancy was something she knew little of and something she was sure in her life she would never have the chance to know about first hand.

"Does Henri go out on heists a lot?"

"More often than not, these days," Belle sighed. "I get it...we still have so much to fix with this damn house and we have a lot of debts. We spent a lot of money tryin' to make this place liveable. We've been tryin' to get the money together to get the roof restored – it's not gonna be cheap. There's three bedrooms on the other side of the house but...they're wrecked, the roof leaked on that side so there's mold, the entire ceilin' is gonna need to come down, there's rot in the support beams, the attic space is infested with termites..." she shook her head. "And our plumbin' needs completely replaced..." she made her way to the kitchen and Rogue followed. "We could have lived with my Daddy in his house – which is much nicer and more upgraded than this," Belle gave a deep sigh.

"Why didn't you?"

"Henri wasn't that keen on the idea and to be honest, I wasn't that thrilled about the idea either," Belle explained. "Difficult to screw your husband when your brother who hates your husband is in the next room and he keeps a loaded pistol under his pillow..." she chuckled. "Julien can't stand Henri even kissin' me on the cheek much less the idea of Henri railin' me every night."

Rogue felt her cheeks flush, the image of Henri and Belle together in their bedroom once again was so vivid in her memory right then.

Belle dumped the contents of the pan into the garbage near the back door, "But livin' here has its drawbacks too. Jean-Luc doesn't encourage laziness – he's able to keep tabs on everythin' Henri does and doesn't like seein' him idle. If he can find work for him, he will – and maybe it's just as well while this house is fallin' apart and we have this little one on the way. I'm certainly not in a good place to go out on a hit right now," she put the dust pan away and she went to the fridge, bringing out a couple of cans of Sprite.

Ah keep forgettin' she's an assassin, Rogue recalled. How many people has she killed? Are they really all bad guys, like Remy suggested?

"You know...you're not what I expected," Belle suddenly admitted.

"Huh?" Rogue asked as she took a seat at the kitchen table.

"Jean-Luc said Remy was comin' wit' someone, we figured it was a girl. Figured he'd gotten himself someone new but...you're not we figured, well...not me an' Henri anyway..."

"How'd you mean?" Rogue frowned a little.

"You're...so not his type..."

Rogue tried not to feel insulted. Was this Belle trying to get into her head again, just like Remy had warned her she might? "So Ah'm not tan, big boobed and bold?"

"Exactly," Belle put a can of Sprite down in front of Rogue.

Least she's honest, Rogue thought dully.

"You're not the kind of shallow airhead he usually takes with. No hair extensions, no fake tan, no push up bras and short skirts, no fake personality and acrylic nails..." Belle sat down slowly, popping her own can open, she took a sip.

Rogue listened, watching the blonde closely, trying to assess if this was all part of a game.

"You're...differen'...you're not a bimbo..." Belle leaned her elbow on the table and she propped her chin up on her fist, "I'm good at readin' people, chere..." she chewed her lip for a moment, studying her. "I see a lot of the surface stuff."

"Like what?" Rogue asked uneasily.

"Way y' dress...the makeup...the way y' hide y' face in y' hair a lot..." Belle tilted her head, "Y' tryin' t' keep people at bay, hide who y' are..." she smiled a little, "but it didn' hol' Remy back."

Rogue blinked.

"He probably saw you as a challenge. Partly 'cause o' the way y' a lil' shy an' standoffish."

And there it is, that's the manipulation right there, Rogue thought. She's tryin' to make me feel bad about myself...

"Y' can't touch him, he can't touch you...that sense o'...danger...it's gon' add to it...and if there's anythin' Remy loves, it's a touch o' danger and a sense o' challenge."

And now she wants me to obsess about what we can't do, she realised as she lowered her eyes to the can Belle had given her. She reached out and opened it, pretending the discussion didn't bother her at all.

"But...then he figured out there was more to y' than a challenge he probably saw you as...somethin' about you got him...I don' know...mesmerised."

"Huh?" Rogue asked.

"He act more differen' wit' you than wit' anyone else I ever knew. He's like that awkward boy he was when I firs' met him. He's..." Belle smiled, her eyes to the ceiling as she thought of the word, "anxious."

"Yeah, sure. Remy LeBeau anxious?" Rogue scoffed.

"I've never seen him so uncomfortable aroun' any girl. He never gets that way. He always knows what to say or how to act wit' any woman...but wit' you...I don' know. He's on edge. He doesn' let people in much, he's easy to get to know on the surface, but...hard to get to know deep an' personal."

Rogue took a sip of the cold Sprite, listening to the blonde.

"It's weird that you're together at all, really."

"How?" Rogue raised an eyebrow.

"He tol' me he's crazy about you," Belle said, "When we was talkin' 'bout you this mornin'...but...he acts around you like he's..."

"Not?" Rogue asked.

"No...Ah know he is," Belle assured, "It's not that..." she frowned, "it's like he's...scared of you...scared to get close to you."

"You think it's my powers?" Rogue asked; although the conversation made her deeply uncomfortable, she hoped for an answer.

"Honestly," Belle sighed, "No...I think it runs deeper. I think he's afraid o' gettin' hurt. Like really hurt. It's like...I don' know...he's...hesitatin'..." she got up. "I think I'm gonna hit the hay. I had a rough night."

Yeah, Ah heard...and saw.

"May as well get some sleep before my husband rolls back and wakes me. I'll see you in the mornin'," Belle picked up her can and she passed by Rogue. "Don't stay up too late, you'll get wrinkles," she touched Rogue's shoulder. "Make yourself at home in the meantime. Night, chere."

Rogue forced a smile, "night."

---

Rogue retired at midnight, after sitting watching a documentary about ghosts in the LeBeau's living room. By the time she got to bed, she could hear the sound of rain gently patting on the window. She lay listening to it for a while, letting it lull her into sleep; it seemed like she'd barely shut her eyes and the sound of a loud close rumble of thunder awakened her and she sat up straight in the bed. It took her a brief moment to realise what she'd heard and she rubbed her tired eyes and turned to look at the clock. It was almost three in the morning.

She got up and moved to the bedroom window to look outside, it was raining heavily and a few flickers of lightning lit up everything, the sky for a brief second almost seemed like daylight. A slight chill had come on, the cool rain lowering the temperature of the house immensely and she pulled the folded blanket from the bottom of Remy's bed and wrapped it around herself and settled upon the window seat.

Watching and listening to the storm helped soothe her a little, there was something slightly hypnotic about the rhythm of the rain on the glass, the way it pelted the walls, the way it was tapping on a galvanised pail in the garden below.

"How are you still up?"

Rogue turned to look at the other side of the room where Remy had just turned on the small lamp on his dresser, he was soaked to the bone, his hair dripping wet and plastered to his head. He was muddy too, it was caked on his pants and his arms, splattered on his face.

"The storm woke me," Rogue answered truthfully, she turned back to look outside.

"Y' woul' think livin' wit' a weather witch f' years mighta got y' used t' the soun' o' a storm," Remy remarked. She heard him at her back as he went about peeling his soaking wet clothes off. She saw his slightly hazy shape in the glass window panes as he moved around.

Rogue felt that awkwardness again, and now that Belle had mentioned it, she felt even more aware of it. Had that been Belle's intention? To make her obsess about the tension between them. Had Belle sussed they weren't actually together?

What are we if we aren't together? We went on one date...we shared a bed last night. We spent the day together doin' stuff almost like a couple would do. What do we call this?

"What happened to you?" she asked, referring to the mud.

"Side o' the target location had a ditch...didn' see it," he grumbled. "Los' traction in the rain."

Rogue eyed his dark reflection as he undressed, watched him kick his wet pants into the corner, watched him shed his underwear. He stood for a moment and Rogue drank him in, the shape of him, the lean torso, the ripple of his stomach, the strong forearms, the toned thighs...

Her eyes raised to look at his face and she suddenly realised he had caught her looking at him. It wasn't the first time she'd seen him that way, she'd seen him at the pool, seen him coming out of the shower the night before, but this time...he was very aware of how she was looking at his body indirectly. She turned her attention away, pretended to be looking down into the garden, pretended to find the puddles forming in the dirt so much more interesting than he was.

Need to lift the tension. Say somethin'. Anythin'...

"How did the heist go other than fallin' in a ditch?" she asked.

"Fine," was all he said. She realised he was very unlikely to elaborate further on what it'd been or how much money – if any – he had made.

Well that was helpful.

"What did you get up to while I was gone?" he seemed to sense she was hoping for small talk.

"Ah watched a documentary about the ghosts in an old asylum."

"Any good?"

"Yeah, it was interestin'," she shrugged. She was about to ask if tomorrow they'd be going to the voodoo shop he and Belle had been discussing that morning, but before she could get the words out, he broke the silence.

"Y' shoul' go t' bed, chere. It's late."

"In a minute," she decided.

Without further word, she heard him walking to the adjacent bathroom, and the sound of the shower turning on, the water echoing loudly in the tub. She sat for a short while, staring out of the window at the rain, trying to let it tire her brain. Finally, deciding she had to go to bed sooner or later, she moved from the window seat and she started for the bed, but stopped to gaze in the bathroom door at Remy standing in the tub beyond the translucent shower curtain, his hands pressed against the wall, his head beneath the shower head.

What does he think about when he's alone? She wondered, she passed by the bathroom and slipped beneath the covers of his bed. She lay there, listening to the sound of the water changing as he moved. She heard him groaning and she wondered if he'd hurt himself falling into the ditch. He already had bruised himself up the night before, falling couldn't have helped that injury any.

After some time, he returned to the room, and she heard him searching for something to wear to bed from the clothes in his dresser. She wondered if she hadn't been there if he'd bothered at all, or if he'd have lain there with nothing between his body and the sensation of cool, crisp sheets the way he had two days after the wedding. Facing the window, she heard the movement as he quietly dressed, and then, moments later she felt the mattress shifting and buckling beneath his weight as he got into the bed, the slight movement at her back as he got comfortable.

A while passed, and there was no sound but the rain outside and the thunder which grew more distant as time went on. She'd assumed he'd fallen asleep and slowly, she rolled over to face him, finding he was lying on his side facing her, but this time, unlike the night before, he was awake. In the darkness the most she could make of him was the faint red-orange glow of his eyes.

"Hey," he responded quietly.

"Hey," she managed back.

"Can't sleep?" he asked quietly, his voice barely a whisper.

"No. You?" She sensed he was exhausted just by the tone of his voice.

"I'm gettin' there," he supposed, he rolled onto his back and sighed, his eyes pointed at the ceiling. "Where y' wan' go t' morrow?"

Rogue snorted, "it is tomorrow."

"When we wake, then?"

"We'd have to sleep first."

"Then once we've slept, and we wake..." he sighed frustratedly.

"What do you wanna do?" she asked.

"Whatever y' like."

"No...what do you want to do. Ah've had my day...if it was your day, what would we do?"

He rolled onto his side facing away from her, seeming to be frustrated with the conversation. "We figure it out t'morrow. Le's jus' get some shut eye, chere."

She lay for a while in the dark, listening to his breathing, listening to the sound of the rain and watching the flashes of lightning illuminate Remy's bedroom every now and then. She was certain half an hour had passed, and she heard him sigh, felt the bed shifting a little as he tried to get comfortable.

She could sense the frustration, the tension lingering between them. She watched the back of his head, saw the slightly stiff way he shifted on the mattress a little. Was he still frustrated in the same way he'd admitted to after hearing Belle and Henri's lovemaking? She'd have been lying to herself if the thought of what they had been doing in the next room - what they might be doing even now - was frustrating her too. Only she had little experience of knowing how to properly handle that frustration.

All she did really know was that the frustration lingering between them on the bed was driving both of them crazy.

She shifted closer to him to get comfortable, there was a particular spring near her ribs she could feel pushing against her and she tried to get out of it's way. She lay there, barely an inch or so from his body; he was so close she could feel the heat from him beneath the top sheet. The temptation to just reach out and try to bridge that gap between their bodies was there, burning within her. She'd never felt that before and she longed to know what it was like, even if it was innocent. She longed to know what it'd feel like to touch a man...to touch him.

Tentatively, she put her hand on his side, not even certain if he was actually awake or not still; he seemed to stiffen a little at her touch and she closed her eyes, tried to assure herself that if she didn't try, she'd never know and so, nervously, trying to muster up all her courage, she started to snake her gloved hand down his waist; he was swift, almost as if he had anticipated what she'd tried to do, and he caught her hand and drew it up, and she felt him press her hand hand against his chest, holding it there with his.

"Nigh', chere."

She felt her cheeks flush hot with embarrassment and rejection. "Night, Remy..."

---

It was nine am when Rogue woke; she was the first to. Remy was stretched out on his side of the bed flat on his stomach, his arm hanging off the bed, his left foot out of the covers. The dull light from the window dappled over him, the shadows from the heavy rain drops dripping down the windows cast upon his back.

Recalling the embarrassment of rejection from before she'd fallen asleep, she gazed down at him, her heart sinking. God, that was so stupid. It's like the weddin' all over again, she thought dully.

She slipped out of the bed and went to the bathroom, started the shower and decided to take her time in showering this morning, there seemed to be little need to rush.

In the shower, all she could think about was the past few days they'd spent together, it'd been different from home. The past three days with him, mostly home alone, it seemed to her she should have felt closer to him, but it seemed the opposite...it seemed to her that she felt more comfortable with him at home than she did here.

As she finished rinsing out her hair, she heard Remy's voice at the door.

"Y' gon' be long?"

She gasped and tried to hide herself, she gazed around the edge of the bath's shower curtain to see him standing there in the doorway, his back against the frame, his eyes pointed at the sink. He wasn't looking at her, and she wasn't sure whether to feel offended about it or relieved.

"No...Ah'll...be out soon."

"I need t' piss an' the other bathroom is occupied," he mumbled. "I'd have gone outside but the rain is hammerin' down out there."

Rogue looked around for where she'd left her towel, it was on the other side of the bathroom. "Can you pass me that towel?" she asked, she turned the old fashioned handle and the water stopped.

He looked around for a minute, happening on the old fashioned floral embroidered pink thing and he picked it up, holding it towards her, his eyes lifted and he looked at her face and never further than that. She wasn't sure why she felt almost disappointed. It seemed to her any attraction she'd thought he'd had might be waning.

What if he's been gettin' some after those heists? She wondered as she wrapped the towel around herself quickly and she drew the curtain to step out. She breezed by him and went into the room, her hair still dripping wet.

"When you're done can you bring me a towel from there for my hair?" she called through to him as she sat on the edge of his bed, shivering slightly. The house felt slightly cold today and the room looked oddly different in grey dingy morning light on an overcast morning.

She heard the toilet flushing a moment later, and the squeak of the old fashioned sink faucet as he washed his hands. He returned to the bedroom, drying his hands on a towel which he then reached out to her. "Here."

"These towels look old..." Rogue realised, she wrapped it around her hair.

"Yeah, they're probably at leas' forty years ol'," Remy went to the window to look outside, "fuck. I need t' smoke but I don' wan' stan' out in that rain."

"Your daddy doesn't let you smoke in your room?"

"Used t'. Now since Belle pregnan', no smokin' in the house. Same as at home."

"Maybe it's time to quit," Rogue said.

"How'd you quit?" He looked at her.

"Ah didn't smoke long enough to get a proper habit."

"I see," he sighed, he stared out at the rain, "so...any thoughts about what y' wan' do t' day?"

"We could go to that voodoo shop you and Belle talked about..."

"Y' so eager t' get y' future read," Remy queried, he looked over his shoulder at her curiously.

"Maybe," Rogue stared down at the floor, "Ah have...so much Ah'd like to know."

"Like what? Love life?"

"Maybe."

"I can tell y' how that gon' go."

"Nowhere?" she scoffed.

Remy gave a weak laugh, "Fine, I take y' t' see Tante Mattie."

---

Tante Mattie's Voodoo shop was in a beautiful building in the French Quarter, painted a peach-pink and unassuming from the outside. The moment she entered the shop, the smells of rich incense filled her senses and her eyes were assaulted with displays of candles, gris-gris, spices, and various curios she'd never seen before. It was clear to her that much of the shop was mainly for tourists, some of the displays of items seemed more tacky and...somehow unauthentic to the shop and it's real intent. Remy led the way to the counter which seemed to be unattended; behind the counter was a spiral staircase with a beautifully elaborate wrought iron detail in the railing. .

"Tante Mattie!" Remy yelled, leaning on the counter.

"I'm comin', I'm comin'," Came a voice from up stairs.

Rogue approached the counter, picking up what was clearly a voodoo doll with pins in it, it seemed little more than an inauthentic souvenir aimed at the tourists. Wonder if they have any of these with red hair? She wondered wryly.

"This place cater t' a lot o' passin' trade. Tourism big here. This place do well durin' Mardi Gras."

"Ah bet," Rogue put the item back down.

The footsteps of a heavy set black woman drew their attention to the staircase, she was dressed in light cotton, some of her hair tied in a colourful wrap, a few long braids dangling around her back and shoulders, her wrists boasting a collection of jangling bracelets and bangles.

"Remy, my boy!" Tante Mattie came to the counter and leaned over to grab him, Rogue almost laughed at the way she nearly dragged him over to her side. What surprised her was that he hugged her with a powerful affection he hadn't even given towards his father, brother or Belle. Immediately, Rogue sensed that Remy loved this woman more than perhaps anyone in his life.

"Long time no see," Remy said, his face muffled against her large shoulder.

"I heard my boy was in town...kept hoping he was coming to see his tante," Tantie Mattie said, her voice was rich, her accent, definitely of the West Indies, an accent Rogue had always loved due to the almost rhythmic and lyrical sound. "You should have come sooner."

"Sorry," he finally disentangled himself from her arms.

"And who's this you've brought? I taught you better manners than to go standin' there without introducin' a lady."

"This Rogue..." Remy said, "she's a friend," he put his arm around her, his hand settling on her shoulder in a very familiar way.

Rogue turned to look at him. More pretence, got to keep his family and Belle thinkin' he's happy and well adjusted, she thought. She was starting to resent this now.

"Any friend of Remy's is a friend of mine," Tante Mattie reached over for Rogue's hand.

Rogue reached out and shook the woman's hand; she was glad for once someone didn't try to grab her for a hug, didn't have to be reminded of how dangerous her powers were. "Hi."

"Rogue wanted t' see a real voodoo shop," Remy said, he squeezed Rogue's shoulder. "An' she wan' get her future read, too."

"Ooh, future," Tante Mattie leaned on the counter, she was still holding Rogue's gloved hand, this time in both of hers, her long natural fingernails were beautiful, peach against the rich dark chocolate of her skin, "Now...we got a lot of options for that, my dear. The crystal ball, the tarot, the palm..."

Rogue shook her head, "not the palm."

Mattie lowered her eyes to Rogue's hand, turning it over in both of hers, examining the glove, "I see. And are you special, like Remy?"

"I'm a mutant, if that's what you mean," Rogue replied.

"Special," Mattie corrected.

"Mattie hate the word mutant," Remy leaned into say to Rogue, "it's a dirty word t' her. She prefer special."

"It's truth," Mattie squeezed Rogue's hand. "Isn't it?"

Rogue didn't really know how to respond. Special wasn't exactly what she'd call her curse.

"She was hopin' f' cartomancy, actually," Remy let go of Rogue's shoulder and leaned forward on the counter, "not the way y' do it f' the touristy people. The special way..."

"I see..." Tante Mattie smiled. "Lock that door and turn the sign to closed, then, and lets have at it."

Remy did as he was told and Mattie opened her counter up so they could pass and go up the spiral stairs to her private home. The house was beautiful, rich colours, vibrant art, and an old vinyl played on a record player in the back of the beautiful red painted living room. Rogue was made to sit at a small round table draped in white lace and Tante Mattie placed down a wooden box.

"Remy. You should wait elsewhere," Mattie decided, "You know these readin's are private."

"Fine, I be in the kitchen," Remy said, and left them.

Rogue watched as Tante Mattie moved to a sideboard and she opened a drawer, removing a block of something wrapped in silk and a small bag. She sat down and began unwrapping the silk item to reveal it was a pack of playing cards. They looked intricate, different to anything Rogue had ever seen – almost as if they were hand painted. Mattie placed them faced down on the table and then opened the bag and spilled out what looked like to Rogue some rocks, they looked almost like uncut gems. She recognised jade and rose quartz, but not the rest.

"My method has been handed down from my family," Mattie said, "this isn't somethin' you gonna see in any fortune tellers shop anywhere else..." she spread the stones out a little, tapping each one almost as if she were counting them. "Got somethin' personal?"

"Personal?"

"Jewellery or...a knick-knack, somethin' that you have on you a lot. I need somethin' with your energy."

Rogue thought for a moment and then removed her right glove and slipped a thin silver ring she had worn for a decade. It'd been a gift from Irene. One of the last gifts Irene had ever given her. "This do?"

"Perfect," Mattie held her hand out and Rogue dropped it into her open palm.

Rogue observed as the woman held it in both her hands for a moment, her eyes closed, beneath her gold painted lids, Rogue could see her eyes moving back and forth.

"This ring see a lot of adventure...a lot of danger..." Tante Mattie frowned a little, "lot of heartache too."

Got to be cold readin', Rogue decided as she listened.

"It was a gift...from...your..." Tante Mattie stopped, opening her eyes, "your not mother. A mother figure but not. Does that make sense?"

Rogue gave a vague nod, trying to hide her surprise.

Mattie took a breath and she put the ring on top of the stack of playing cards, "just got to let the energy absorb into the cards..." she explained. "You're a Taurus...aren't you?"

Blinking, Rogue nodded again, "How...did...you know?"

"I feel it," Tante Mattie pushed the stones towards her, "hold these...bare hands."

Rogue slipped her left glove off and put both gloves aside and picked up the handful of stones.

"Clasp them now, tight between your hands," Mattie instructed. "An' concentrate on the things you want to know most."

Rogue did so.

"Now...drop 'em. Don't matter if any fall on the floor...if they fall on the floor, they aren't part of your future..."

Rogue opened her hands and dropped the stones, two fell to the floor, she heard one rolling away into a corner.

Tante Mattie picked up the ring and put it down in front of Rogue then picked up her cards and began spreading them out "you select three..."

"Okay..." Rogue chewed her cheek, looking down at the spread.

"Select which ones you feel drawn to the most...the ones that speak to you. Don't think about it, just let your heart tell you where to draw from..."

Rogue drew three from the selection, fighting to not think about it, the last card in the spread, one almost directly in the middle, and one between the last and middle.

Tattie put the rest of the deck aside and she turned them around. "Hmmm..."

"What is it?" Rogue asked quietly.

"Pick a stone from these..." she gestured to the stones on the table.

Rogue picked one.

"Black tourmaline...in line with the three of spades...this marks the end of a friendship or love...there's been trouble with this one..." she frowned. Mattie moved onto the next card, "pick a stone..."

Rogue picked up another stone and put it down by Mattie.

"Moonstone..." she smiled, "in line with the four of hearts..." she thought for a moment, "moonstone is a journey stone...it help you find paths or truths...and the four of hearts...it can mean you're goin' on a journey," she licked her teeth, "Now...that could be a physical one...or a spiritual one. Change is coming," she put the card and stone aside, "last stone."

Rogue picked the last stone and placed it down.

"Rose quartz," Mattie said, "in line with the King of Spades..." she smirked a little, "this very accurate."

"Hmm?" Rogue asked.

"The king of spades..." Mattie tapped the card, "that's an older man...he's got a selfish streak, him, ambitious...a little arrogant..." she put the stone onto the card, "but with the rose quartz...it mean he's compassionate...powerfully so..." she put the last card away. "Now...all these together...this tells me you're in love, or were...maybe even just thought you were. This one has hurt greatly...kept you up at night, broke your heart a hundred times over, there's been tears cried and disappointment for some time. But recently you've been on an journey to move past it...and the king of spades...he's hangin' around. King of spades isn't usually a compassionate person...but your powerful energy has drawn him...like the moth to the flame."

Rogue slipped her gloves back on.

"Any of this resonate with you?" Tante Mattie asked.

"It's...hard to say..." Rogue sighed, "Everyone has...had heartache...and...tried to move past it, Ah guess."

"This is recent...the final card even more so. First card is past, second is present, and third is future. Your future with the king of spades..." Mattie turned towards the door just as Remy appeared there, he leaned on the frame.

"You got no soda," he complained.

"You drink too much soda anyway," Mattie decided.

"You about finished?" Remy asked.

"Yes," Mattie responded.

"Find anythin' interestin'?" Remy folded his arms casually.

"That's between me, Rogue, an' the powers that be. You gon' get yours read?"

"Nah, I...pretty much know what mine gon' be," Remy decided, he smirked a little.

Mattie stood up and begun clearing her items away. "And you were always so determined to live a life with no confinements," she chuckled.

Rogue eyed Remy from where he stood, his eyes twinkled at her, he smiled, chewed his lip in that attractive almost vaguely suggestive way he always did, then inclined his head in an upwards nod.

"Did y' get the outcome y' was hopin' for?"

She didn't know how to answer so she gave a shrug.

"Remy, are you older than Rogue?" Mattie asked, which to both seemed quite out of the blue.

Remy gave a vague shrug, "Few years – three, nearly four?"

"I see," said Mattie. She bent down to pick her stones from the floor. "You two have a day planned?"

"I had ideas but rain took out a few," Remy sighed. "Storm gettin' worse. We gon' go get lunch an' figure out from there."

"Good idea..." Tante Mattie nodded, she put her items away and led the way back down the stairs.

"How much do we owe you for the readin'?" Rogue asked.

"Won't hear of takin' money for that. Anytin' for a...friend...of Remy's," Mattie turned around and looked at Rogue with a smile. "Now go take a look around the shop before you go. We got lots of fun things to take back as souvenirs."

Got any love spells? Rogue wondered.

For a while, Rogue perused the shop, eyeing all the curios. She chose a tacky voodoo keyring to mark the experience, something to remember the trip by and Mattie accepted it at the register.

"Awful things, aren't they?" Mattie grimaced and sighed, "but they sell well."

"Ah know," Rogue smirked, "It's tacky. But Ah kind of like it. Besides, Ah want somethin' to take home with me...remember the trip."

Remy looked at her, "the memories not gon' be enough."

"Course," she shrugged, "but it's nice to have somethin' tangible."

"Yeah, I suppose," he agreed.

Rogue paid for the keychain and Mattie bagged it.

"I hope you'll come back again and visit," she handed the small bag to Rogue, and clasped her hands over Rogue's.

"We're definitely gon' come again," Remy promised.

Are we? Rogue wondered.

Remy touched her back, "c'mon, lets go. I'm starvin'."

---

"So...tell me more about Tante Mattie," Rogue encouraged once she and Remy were sitting down to a lunch in another one of the small independent restaurants he'd chosen.

"She work f' the council o' the guilds...she's a mediator, tu sais?" he shrugged. "She also help nanny us kids a lil' back when we was younger. I didn' get much time wit' her bein' as I was older. But...she close t' a mother figure as I get," he supposed.

"She's lovely," Rogue admitted, "She has a..." she paused, trying to think of a way to voice it.

"An energy..."

"Yeah," Rogue nodded. "Is she like us? Mutant?"

"No..." Remy shook his head, "she's...mystical. Her gifts come from generations o' women who came from a higher power. But...I can't go int' it t' it too much...it's one thing y' fin' things out from absorbin' me, it's another t'...tell y' all our secrets..."

Rogue nodded and she picked up her drink. Remy's phone begun to ring, she looked at him. "No," she said at once before he'd even had the chance to take it out and glance at the front of it.

"No?" he asked.

"It's your Daddy, ain't it?"

He took his phone from his pocket and he gazed at the display, his chest seemed to sink.

"What does it matter what Ah say," Rogue supposed, "we both know you're gonna go anyway, right?"

He tilted his head, "I'll tell him no," he said.

"Go on then," Rogue folded her arms.

Remy answered the phone and opened his mouth to speak, but he was clearly interrupted before he had the chance. "Oh..."

Rogue tilted her head, frowning at him a little.

"When?" he asked as he gazed into space, his expression concerned.

He's not speakin' French this time, Rogue realised.

"I mean...you know what I mean...okay, yeah, I take care o' it..." he nodded, and he hung up.

"Another heist?"

"Belle don' feel well...they're at the hospital."

"Is she okay?" Rogue blinked.

"I don' know, Jean-Luc sounded...I don' know...freaked," Remy called for the waiter and cancelled their meal hastily.

"We're leavin'?" Rogue asked.

"I need t' work in Henri's place t' night. I need t' do prep, study the blueprints," he grunted. "Henri gon' be at the hospital, work gon' be me an' Jean-Luc."

"Remy, that's three nights in a row. You're gonna wear yourself out. You barely even sleep."

"What y' expec' me t' do, chere?"

"It's not your problem. You keep sayin' it."

"There's a contract they can' get out o'. Breakin' a contract resul' in them owin' money t' the clien' who pay them half advance. The advance already been spen'. Look, this will be the las' time," he stood. "C'mon."

"What am Ah supposed to do then?"

"Look, I'll make this up t' you..." he left money on the table for their drinks, and led the way.

Ah doubt it.

---

The drive home felt frosty. Rogue didn't like this situation one bit. She hated that part of her felt quite angry that he was ditching her again to take his family's responsibilities.

They drove to the house and the first thing Rogue saw was droplets and smudges of blood on the porch steps...and then, at the door...and past the door on the floor in the hallway – Belle's immaculate shining floors were smeared with it.

That was when she realised the severity of this. That was the moment she felt her stomach lurch.

Suddenly, she felt incredibly stupid and selfish, and regretful for being angry. She turned to look at Remy. Why didn't he tell her? Why didn't he say it was more serious?

Remy's eyes dropped to the blood; his face seemed to pale and his jaw clenched.

Rogue sighed inwardly. She knew she was supposed to say sorry for snapping at Remy but instead all she could do was say "Ah'll clean this up. Ah know Belle doesn't like a dirty house..."

"I got t' g' do some research," Remy sighed quietly, he hovered at the door of Jean-Luc's office; he was silent, his back stiff. "I...won' blame y' if y' wan' leave."

She met his eyes, his expression was unhappy, and frustrated.

"I'll buy y' a ticket home, y' can take the ren'al car, if it's what y' want."

Rogue looked down at the floor, at the droplets of blood. "We'll talk, when you get back."

---

After cleaning up the blood she found in spots in the house – mostly the kitchen and some leading from Belle and Henri's bedroom, Rogue paced around the house on and off for most of the night with absolutely no idea of what was going on. Remy had left some time before four pm, saying he had 'preparations to make' and she hadn't heard from him since.

Part of her was furious at being left alone, part of her guilty for being furious when somewhere in a hospital room, Belle was possibly miscarrying her baby. Her stomach was in knots as she wandered from room to room, drinking in the LeBeau's ornaments and décor. She took a brief look in the side of the house that was in disrepair, the parts the tour hadn't included, three bedrooms with badly patched up roof, rotten floors, mold on the walls, windows boarded from the inside. She supposed she couldn't blame Jean-Luc and Henri for wanting to work so much to try and get the house into some state of repair, especially with the baby on the way.

Is the baby on the way? Rogue fretted. God, Ah feel like an asshole...Belle is probably so scared and...the first thing Ah did is bitch at Remy. Am Ah that selfish? Have Ah always been that way?

To fill an hour, she phoned home, and spoke to Kitty to find out how things were going. Lance was still in rehab it seemed, but it sounded to Rogue like he was doing very well and Kitty had sounded optimistic. When Kitty asked about how things were going in New Orleans, Rogue was vague about most of what was going on, saying that she was enjoying her stay and felt very relaxed – which was the furthest from the truth.

She sensed the brunette wanted to ask about her relationship with Remy but was hesitating. Rogue didn't offer anything, didn't mention them sharing a room or a bed, didn't mention that she was beginning to grow very attached to the man, that she'd started to catch feelings that were probably inadvisable to have.

To fill more hours, she wiped over every counter in the already immaculate kitchen, she wiped over the bathroom, and she swept the hallway. When there seemed to be no household chores to fill her time, she watched a few episodes of Unsolved Mysteries, and when she grew bored of this, she decided to go to Remy's room for the night, although it was impossible to settle.

In her pyjamas, she paced for a little while in the room. Deciding it was probably what he'd have done if he was in her position, she snooped through his drawers in his dresser; there wasn't much left in them though as he'd been wearing what had been in them, most of it now sitting in the laundry hamper in the corner by the door now. She settled at his preferred side of the bed – the right – and she slid the drawer of his bedside cabinet open and gazed in.

Old zippo lighters, disposable lighters, packets of condoms – it seemed a couple were flavoured judging by the fruit cartoons on them - and three small bottles of sexual lubricants, one flavoured, one not, and one that supposedly had a 'tingle' factor about it. These things shouldn't have surprised or bothered her, she supposed and yet they did. She wondered how many times they'd been used as she poked them around with the edge of Biro pen, not even wanting to touch them with her gloves.

Did he use these with Belle? Rogue wondered uneasily, she pried a few items of drawer clutter away from the back of the drawer, a keychain with a shamrock in it, a lucky rabbits foot, some dice on a keychain, and a tobacco tin.

He doesn't usually roll his own, she realised as she pulled the tin out and she pried the lid off gently. The smell of weed hit her senses immediately as the lid came away, strong and heady even if it had been probably in there for a few years. Inside, other than the bag of weed, was cigarette papers.

"Y' foun' me out."

Rogue jumped at Remy's sudden intrusion and almost dropped the tin, she composed herself quickly and put the lid back on, "Ah wasn't-" she began.

"Y' were snoopin'. Can't blame y', mus' have been bored here," he grunted. "I forgot I had that, incidentally. I don't do it any more." She knew he wasn't lying about the weed, she'd never smelled it on him in all the time he'd been with the X-Men...and Logan definitely would have picked up on it if he had been smoking it.

"You're...back early..." she gazed up at him, he looked tired, slightly paler than usual due to lack of sleep and overwork from these heists.

"Left earlier, was a simple in an' out not too far from here," He was wearing a thin black spandex top and she noted there was a slash across the stomach; beyond she could see a smear of blood.

"What happened?"

"Occupational hazard," Remy sighed, he peeled the top off and tossed it into the hamper by the door.

Rogue put the tin of weed aside and turned her attention to the wound on his stomach; a red slash almost went from one side of his torso to the other, it looked angry and slightly swollen at the edges. .

"Does it hurt?"

"Superficial, at most. Stings, that's all," He shrugged, he looked down at his belly.

"Do you have a med kit?" Rogue asked.

"Cabinet under sink...along wit' wit' my spare razors an' my tampons."

Rogue headed to to the bathroom; she'd thought he was lying about the tampons but when she opened the cabinet under the sink, she found there was indeed a box of tampons.

"Why...do you have tampons?" she asked, grabbing the small medical kit from the shelf and returning to the room.

"Believe or not..." he sat on the edge of the bed with a grunt, "they make excellen' plugs f' bleedin' woun's if y' get shot an' y' in a pinch...I always carry a few in the inside o' my coat."

"For real?" Rogue asked.

"Swear t' god – I used one t' plug one o' my cousin's bullet woun's four years ago – never go anywhere wit'out a few since. Also good f' nosebleeds, incidentally."

"Why did you never tell me that?"

"'Cause X-Men med supplies are superior an' so far, no one's needed a bullet woun' pluggin'," he shrugged.

Rogue opened the box and looked for some disinfectant. "What happened?"

"Can't prop'ly say," He reminded her. "Confidential."

She tended his wound as he sat quietly, tension between them felt tangible and heavy, as if it weighed down the entire atmosphere. "Have you...heard anythin' about Belle?" Rogue asked, breaking the long silence.

Remy sighed, "No...an' I'm worried. On the way home Jean-Luc tried t' get through t' Henri but...it jus' ring an' ring. Hospital won' tell me nothin'. Jus' got t' wait..." he chewed his cheek. "Jean-Luc wen' back t' the hospital...I came back here."

Rogue put the trash from the medical kit in the bin by his cabinet and she returned the kit to his bathroom. As she stood up from putting the kit back beneath the sink, she saw her reflection, she saw the guilt in her own eyes.

You've been a brat...and he doesn't deserve it, she thought unhappily. She was on the verge of apologising and then she heard his phone ringing; he'd left that phone in his bedroom since he'd been gone. She'd almost been tempted to see if she could unlock it to look through his private photos but had resisted in the end.

She heard Remy quickly responding to the call, could hear the worry in his voice as he answered it and this time she decided to not even try to listen in. She went back to the mirror and stared at herself, her makeup free face was slightly sunburned, a little pink on the cheeks and the nose from the day he hadn't let her put her makeup up on and therefore, she hadn't been wearing her foundation with SPF.

What now? Jean-Luc has another job for you on top of every other one he's asked you to do since you got here? Rogue wondered bitterly, she dropped her eyes into the sink, a small spider was creeping around the drain. As she raised her eyes again, she saw Remy's reflection in the mirror, he was hanging at the door, his expression was very dark.

God, don't tell me it's bad news, Rogue pleaded.

"Belle gave birt' t' a lil' girl."

Rogue closed her eyes, took a breath. She knew something bad was coming.

"Baby gon' be...in an incubator for...a good while. Ain' finished developin' yet. Jean-Luc say she tiny...barely the size o' his han'..."

She stared back into the drain, the spider was still clamouring to get out of that sink. She felt incredibly sick for some reason. "You're stayin', aren't you..." she realised. It was more of a fact than a question.

Remy sighed, his voice sounded slightly thick, "chere, I..."

"Just be straight, Remy," Rogue shook her head at the sink, "are you comin' home or not?"

"There's...gon' be a lot o'...bills f' the care o' the baby..." he drew his breath, "she gon' need a lot o' extra time at the hospital...leas' til she healthy enough t' bring home. It's gon' cos' a lot an'...Henri won' be able t' do it all an' be there f' Belle..."

"Are you stayin'?" Rogue asked firmly.

"Yes. F' now."

"Fine," She sighed, "then Ah don't see any point in my hangin' around," she left the sink and passed by him, shoving him out of the way.

"Chere, don' take it like that."

"Ah have to go home, Remy, you know that."

"I know...but we got a few more days..."

"All we have is tomorrow," Rogue reminded him, "But you're gonna be runnin' around after your family and...Ah don't see the point of stickin' around so that Ah can sit in this big house on my own waitin' for you to come home so we can spend five minutes together before you pass out from exhaustion," she moved to the place where she'd put her tote bag and she put it on the bed and took out a change of clothes.

"That's how y' wan' it?" he asked, his voice sounded strangely emotional.

"Yes," she said. "Ah have a team to run, responsibilities. Ah've rested enough."

He grunted, "fine...I..." he took a deep breath and sighed, "I'll book y' a fligh' out."

"Fine."

---

End of Part 6