Several months later…


"Your hands are cold—that must mean you have a warm heart." He took her hands in his, brushing his thumbs across her knuckles. His voice was soft, and he smiled at her, the corners of his thin lips tugging back, revealing his perfect, white teeth. His smile seemed all too perfect; showing off his dimples, which, too, seemed fit hit perfection for his handsome, round face. His hair was neatly styled, and he smelled lightly of aftershave, his face still smooth.

Rogue's cheeks felt numb as she forced a warm smile back at him. She wanted to feel happy—really. But she just couldn't. Their four months of dating had been pure bliss; he was perfect. Her brain and heart, however, weren't in total agreement.

His hands felt rough compared to her velvetly soft hands, but warm. His touch was caring, and gentle. He brought one of her hands to his mouth, delicately kissing it.

Knowing what was coming, she leaned forward for a kiss, meeting him half way. As soon as their lips met, Rogue felt a tingling sensation in her nose, and in just seconds, a mighty sneeze erupted from her. They both shot back, and Rogue immediately began apologizing repeatedly, her cheeks bright red.

Needless to say, that was the peak of the night.


Rogue tiptoed up the stairs, clutching her jacket and purse to her chest. When she got into her room, she quickly shut the door and flipped on the light switch.

"Back so soon?" Kitty was laying on an air mattress that took up most of the floor space in Rogue's room. She was clad in pink pajamas, her short brunette hair slightly messy. She squinted at Rogue, not seeming to care much that she had been awoken from her slumber.

"I think I'm allergic to him." The Southerner mumbled, dropping her jacket and purse on the floor beside her bed. She clearly was not in the mood to deal with questions.

Kitty sat up almost immediately, gaping at her. "You've been dating him for three months." She pointed out, ridiculously, wondering what Rogue found wrong with him now of all times.

Wordlessly, Rogue collapsed on her bed, yawning into her hand. She kicked off her shoes effortlessly, yawning once more. "I sneezed on him." She declared, sounding uncertain. She made a face of disgust, feeling angry with herself.

"Ew." Kitty scrunched up her nose, saying nothing else, as she sat up, rubbing her palms against the soft material on her thighs.

"Not just on him," Rogue went on with a sigh, "But on his face, as we kissed." Her sigh turned into a groan as she remembered him wiping his face off with a napkin, while reassuring her that it was okay. Alas, to her, it wasn't okay.

Kitty smoothed out her slightly tangled hair, and repeatedly said, "Ew."

Rogue shot her a look that could leave an exit wound before arching her back and pulling off her indigo sweater—she wore a thin white t-shirt under it. "It was a sign." She told the younger girl as she slid off her bed and searched through her dresser for a pair of comfortable pants. "Ominous sign." She hissed as she found her gray drawstring sweatpants.

Kitty laid back down as Rogue changed, her arms folded behind her head, "You said that about to guys you dated before him—I thought you'd finally found someone."

"I didn't sneeze on the guys before Mr. Perfect." Rogue rolled her eyes as she ran her hand down the light switch on the wall, making the room go pitch black. "And I don't think he's my type." That part, however, was more than true. Who wants to date a guy you don't feel comfortable around?

The springs in Rogue's bed groaned as she slipped under the covers. The cool feeling of the sheets against her feet relaxed her as she sunk in, inhaling deeply. As soon as her eyelids began to drop, and her body began to feel sleepy, Kitty's whispering voice broke her out of it.

"It's been nearly seven months," She whispered hesitantly, turning around onto her stomach, "You're not going to find and keep a guy if you're still swooning over Remy."

Rogue's eye snapped open, her body suddenly tense. "You know I'm over him." She spoke slowly, almost as if she were still trying to convince herself. "Right?" She strained the word, awaiting an answer.

The room got silent. The only thing that could be heard was the soft scratching sound of branches swaying across the glass window. A light rain had started, adding a soft pitter-patter sound to the branches.

Quiet minutes passed slowly. Rogue's eyes remained opened, and not before long, she could even hear the soft snoring sounds of a sleeping Kitty.

The soft rain soon began to fall harder, and lightning lit up the sky, giving Rogue's room an eerie aura.

Now feeling wide-awake, Rogue sat up, bringing her knees to her chest. She hugged them lightly, resting her chin in the gap between her knees.

"Remy.." She said, her voice as light as a falling feather. She would never admit to herself that she longed for his touch, to gaze into his demon-like eyes, to just be with him once again. She shut her eyes, letting her mind wander.

Why hadn't he called? Why hadn't she called? Why didn't she go after him? Did he still think about her? Hell, it has been at least seven months; did he even remember her?

Well, it was a rather memorable vacation.

A tear escaped from her closed eyes, and soon enough, more would meet with it.

Perhaps that's what was wrong with her current boyfriend; He wasn't Remy.


Rogue woke up the next morning feeling as if she hadn't gotten any sleep at all. She was pleased to find her room of void of Kitty and her humongous air mattress. With lethargic movement, she pulled the covers to one side, only to be greeted by a cool draft, making her shiver.

She dragged her sock clad feet out of the room and down the hall. Next to the staircase was a table, and on it was a vase of dead flowers and a cordless phone on its charger.

The day would be long; time would move dreadfully slow for her. She knew that, and with a shaky hand, she picked up the phone, hundred of thoughts running endlessly through her mind.

If she ever wanted peace, she knew what she had to do. Clicking the 'talk' button of the phone, she listened for a dial tone, and then pressed '0.'




"Parentin' is a lot harder than I t'ought." Remy mumbled, washing his way through a sink-full of dishes wearing large, yellow, rubber gloves and an apron.

Tante Mattie's dark eyes twinkled as she rolled meatballs. She laughed, setting a glob of meat down on the metal pan, "Makes you think twice, huh boy?"

The backdoor flew open, and Jean-Luc walked in, the door flinging shut behind him, loudly. Remy whipped around, pointing a yellow finger at his father, a soap bubble landing on Jean-Luc's nose.

"There are babies in this house an' you're slammin' doors? Are you that ignorant? Were you raised in a barn?"

Jean-Luc glanced over at Mattie, who chuckled, "Give him a break. He's been up all night."

The older Acadian shrugged his shoulders, grunting in response, "I'm goin' to watch th' game." On his way out, he mumbled something about needing more testosterone in the house.

Remy sighed heavily, going back to the dishes. "Men." He grumbled. "Don't know how you survive in this house here, Tante."

"Sounds like parentin' really changed you." Henri leaned in the doorway, and coughed into his hand. His face was sickly pale, and to put bluntly, he looked, and felt, like crap.

"Oui, I be parentin' after your little spawns." He reminded his brother as he washed yet another bottle. "An' bein' a father ain't in my job description." He paused, dropping the bottle. Remy immediately turned around, "An' what in th' name of all that is holy are you doin' up? You an' Mercy are sick an' you bein' up an' around spreadin' your germs ain't goin' to help anyone. Get your ass back up in bed befo' I blow up somethin' an' that will not be pretty!" And with the rising of his voice came the dreadful noise of a crying baby erupting from a room down the hall. "Well, I hope you're happy." He snapped, his hands on his hips. And that that, he stormed out of the room, stomping his feet.

"Is he wearin' Mercy's apron?"

Mattie sighed, "Be nice. He's been up all night." She plopped down another raw ball of meat onto the pan. The meatballs would be for dinner that night, and when she was finished, she would be making lunch. That was something a cranky Remy could not be left in charge of. "Meanin' you best not be in here when he comes back."

Henri coughed, turning on his heel, "Tell 'im I said his bra is on too tightly."


"I can't believe this is my household." Jean-Luc muttered, turning on the television. Using the remote, he flipped to his sports station. As he got comfortable, the phone on the end table next to him rang, and he answered it, his voice gruff, "Hello?"

The voice at the other end was hesitant, "Is, uh, Remy there?"

Hearing the light Southern twang, he thought nothing of the phone call, "Hold on a minute," Leaning back, he called out, "Remy, phone!" He put his hand over the mouth of the phone.

Henri walked out of the kitchen, on his way back up the stairs, "He's takin' care of his son." He snapped loudly, practically stomping up the stairs.

"He's busy. Want to leave a number o' somethin'?" Jean-Luc asked lazily, glancing over at the paper on the table which had numbers sprawled out all over it, a few other women, too, awaiting for phone calls from their favorite Cajun.

"No, thanks." She replied quickly, sounding disappointed yet a little angry, and then she hung up, leaving Jean-Luc feeling a bit surprised.

"He must've done somethin'." He mumbled, clicking off the phone. Perhaps he'd ask him about it later. Right now, it was game time.


By suppertime, Remy was completely exhaustive. He collapsed on the couch, promising himself a nice, warm shower before bed. He ran his fingers through his tousled hair before picking up a sheet of paper that lay on the end table. His eyes skimmed the names. Not finding any names of importance, he crumbled up the paper, throwing it behind his shoulder.

"I hope you plan on pickin' that up." Mattie teased as she walked through the living room, wanting to turn off all the lights before she head off to bed, "Checked on the boys—they're sleepin' like little angels."

Remy grunted, "Little angels by night. Little demons by mornin'."

Mattie let out a loud, heartfelt laugh. She patted the top of his head, "I sent Jean-Luc up with Henri and Mercy's dinner. The children have been feed, bathed and put to sleep—"

"Thanks to Remy." Remy cut in.

"And now it's time for us to enjoy our meal." She waited for Remy to get up, and when he did, she patted his shoulder, "And since you've been helpin' out so much here lately, I put the extra meatball on your plate."

Dinner started out as quiet, Remy picked at his plate of spaghetti, Mattie just ate it, and Jean-Luc ate it while reading the evening paper.

"There be a reason why you insist writin' down th' name an' number of all th' people that call me?" Remy asked tentatively to Jean-Luc, who lowered his paper enough to meet Remy's gaze.

In response, he shrugged his shoulders without much though, "After a few returned phone calls they don't bother callin' back anyway. Is there a reason why you don't have the decency to return phone calls?" His words were dry, yet even.

Mattie cleared her throat as she got up from the table, setting her plate in the sink. Before she could say anything else, Remy replied, "How is it any of your business what I do?"

"A nice soundin' Southern femme called you earlier. She didn't sound so pleased to hear you were busy."

Southern woman? Remy narrowed his eyes forward, knowing the few girls, and one guy, that constantly called him were French. In the past few months, he stopped dating all together, but some people just couldn't take a hint.

"What was 'er name?" Remy asked somberly, several thoughts swirled around in his mind all at once.

"Didn't get one." The newspaper went back up, and Jean-Luc went back to eating, "What does it matter anyway?"

Remy pushed back in his chair, "Was she the last one to call here?" He demanded to know, earning yet another helpless shrug from his father.

"Beats me."

With a heavy sigh, Remy left the room, and quickly walked into the living room, immediately picking up the phone. "Rogue?" He pondered out loud to himself. Could it have been her? After seven months? It didn't seem likely. Remy, however, always had been the one to take chances. He clicked on the phone, gradually hitting the star, six, and nine number pad.


Part III


"You're movin' to Russia?" Rogue stood in the doorway of her bedroom, staring down at Kitty, her eyes wide. She just continued to gawk at the younger mutant, wondering who she was and what she had done with the real Katherine Pryde.

Despite Rogue's reaction, Kitty couldn't help but to grin, "Not technically moving, Rogue. Piotr is going back and he asked me to go back." Kitty and Piotr had been dating for six months and it didn't occur to Rogue how serious their relationship was until now.

A small smile formed on Rogue's lips, "That's great, Kit." Regardless of her earlier reaction, her words were honest. Suddenly, she looked down, and scratched her arm, "I know this is addin' salt to the old wound, o' whatever, but I called Remy today."

Now it was time for Kitty to gape, "What?" She asked incredibly, "Why?" The answer dawned on her sooner than Rogue's answer, "Oh god, you never got over him." Somehow, the truth didn't surprise her as much as she wanted to. "It was more than a summer fling then."

"I just need one more chance." Rogue said, her voice soft, "But I don't think the odds are in my favor. They never really were."

Kitty just repeated Rogue's movements; she looked down and scratched her arm. "Oh." Feeling guilty sure is a nagging feeling.

"I should have realized it wasn't meant to be when he left. I just," She paused momentarily, "thought he would call." Lifting her head up, she pulled her hair back into a ponytail. "Guess it was my shot. I called an' he didn't call back. My loss, huh?"

There was no way Kitty could let this go. "Rogue—"

"What are you two doing standing here?" Scott Summers, their team leader who had his head shoved so far up his ass he walked funny, stalked down the hallway, "Danger room in session now." He pointed behind him, looking impatient.

The conversation they had been engaged in seemed lost as they switched glances before walking off to the Danger Room for their nightly training session. They had both filed papers to Xavier, saying they want off One-eye's team, but so far, no approval.

Once they were gone, Cyclops shook his head. Mumbling something about how many years until retirement, he started to walk down the hall but was stopped when Xavier merged from his office.

"Ah, Scott." With his hands in a steeple-like gesture, he stopped directly in front of the mutant, "I just tried to reach Rogue-"

"Sorry Professor, once they're in the Danger Room, they're blocked of—"

"I know, Scott. Rogue has a phone call—" It had been Scott who made the suggestion of mental blocks for anyone during a training session—they couldn't afford any distractions.

Cyclops looked down at his watch, "Session already started and it won't open until they're finished." Things sure have changed at the institute, huh?

Xavier started to wheel back, "I will tell the young man that she is unavailable at the moment. Be sure to tell Rogue." And with that, he wheeled back into his office.

After the training session, before Rogue had a change to kick in Scott's face, he told her about the phone call. She went directly to Xavier, who confirmed who called. Rogue waited for another phone call until three A.M., at which she fell asleep.

She woke up, pissed off about sucking at phone tag.

"Fate just loves bitin' me in the ass."


The following morning, Rogue walked into Kitty's room, which smelled of fresh paint. She was carrying the black cordless phone (having just broken things off with Mr. Perfect) but set it on Kitty's dresser and crossed her arms over her chest. She bit down on her lower lip as she watched her fellow teammate pack her bags.

"I bet you're happy to be gettin' out of Cyke's trainin' sessions." Her words seemed to echo through the silent, small room.

Kitty rolled her eyes, smiling, "I'm not going just to get out of them." She licked her lips, "Although it surely is a bonus." They both laughed, although it wasn't that funny. "Why don't you get out of here and go somewhere? Like—" Her eyes instantly lit up, "Paris! Shopping in Paris. Go sight seeing all over Europe and do hours of shopping." She seemed to get more excited with each spoken word.

Rogue shook her head, "Just have fun in Russia with your—" She just had to do this. "Boyfriend." She said the last word in a teasing, sing-along voice.

Kitty laughed, however, the laughter was at Rogue. How could she seem so depressed at times could get so lively at times? Rogue certainly was one of a kind. "Just think about what I said, okay?" After embracing in a hug, Kitty's smile faded, "And Rogue?" She picked up one suitcase in one hand, and the other on with her free hand. Piotr (And Wolverine, who was driving them to the airport) was waiting for her at the front of the mansion. "Remy did call." She spoke quickly when noticing Rogue's green eyes widen. "In San Diego. I'm so sorry but I just thought it would stir up conflict and didn't want you to get anymore hurt and—"

"Have a nice trip, Kitty." Rogue cut her off, raising her voice, not wanting to hear anymore. "Really." She added calmly, despite how many emotions were riled up inside. "And I think I'll take your advice."

"You're going to Paris?" Kitty asked.

Rogue took a step behind Kitty. With her hands set on her shoulders, she guided her out of the door. "Kind of." She replied with a wicked smile.

A girl has to do what a girl has to do, right? Right.


Part IV


"Is he all right?" The following day, Remy sat in the middle of the living room, folding clothes. He just sat there, slowly folding the pile of freshly cleaned clothes in front of him. Jean-Luc and Mattie watched from the doorway.

Mattie elbowed Jean-Luc, "What did I tell you 'bout bein' nice to him?" She asked, practically hitting his nose with a newspaper.

"He's actin' like a robot. Didn't we already go through this stage six months ago?"

"He's been tryin' to get a hold of that Southern gal."

"Ah. And go far no go, I presume."

She shook her head, "Poor boy. Such a mess."

"Fo' bein' a mess he sure is tidy an' helpful 'round the house. More than he used to be." The two nodded in agreement.

Remy turned his head, raising a brow at the two. "You guys know I can hear every word you be sayin over there?"

Mattie just chuckled and went on her way, where as Jean-Luc nodded his head, "Yeah."

Remy sighed. Yes, that was his family all right. He especially was aware of that when his nephew started crying, having awaken from his nap.


The night seemed to pass slowly. Jean-Luc went out, and Mattie just watched a movie in her room while crocheting a blanket.

It took him forever to get Jacques to sleep; he hoped the baby wasn't coming down with anything. The baby finally lost the battle and drifted off in Remy's arms; the Cajun sat on the couch, cradling him while watching a movie on mute. It wasn't before long when Remy had fallen into a light slumber.

Hours passed when Remy was awaken with sharp knocking at the front door. Jacques immediately started to cry, as he, like his uncle, was upset to be woken up at this ungodly hour. Remy cursed as he carefully got up, setting the baby in a bassinette that had been set near the couch since he was born.

Rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, Remy stumbled over to the room, tripping over Jean-Luc's shoes on his way. Unlocking the door, he swung it open, "What the hell do you—" He stop in mid-sentence, his voice lost at the sight of Rogue standing in front of him. The only thing separating them was the screen door. "Dieu."

Holding her breath, Rogue took two feet back, allowing him to walk outside, onto the porch. He did as such, his eyes locked on hers. He was stuck in an array of emotions; he felt like kissing her yet at the same time slamming the door in her face.

However, Remy acted with his first thought. Grabbing her by her waist, he pulled her into him, igniting them into a heated kiss. Rogue closed her eyes, allowing herself to be absorbed into him. Regrettably, they both pulled away for air. Remy cupped her face with his hand, caressing her soft cheeks with his calloused thumbs.

And they kissed again, seeming to forgive each other in unspoken words. Even with the chilly wind and air, they both felt warm in each other's arms.

"Is your name really Rogue?" He asked breathlessly, minutes later. With one hand placed firmly at the back of her neck, he trailed the finger of his free hand down her cheek and neck, finally resting the hand on her shoulder. "Are you really a mutant?" He asked quickly, still wanting so many questions to be answered. "Why did you—"

"Yes, yes, an' I'm sorry." She told him, her eyes watery. She hugged him tightly; breaking out of the embrace he had her in, "I missed you." She whispered, "I love you."

"I love you too." He whispered back, inhaling her signature scent that he longed for. They both stood there, holding onto each other. Both finally feeling the fulfilling bond they had shared.

A healthier looking Henri, Jean-Luc (who had gotten back earlier that night, and Tante Mattie practically pushed each other just to see out the doorway.

"Does this mean we've lost the domestic Remy?" Jean-Luc asked loudly, earning yet another elbowing from Mattie.

Yes, Jean-Luc, yes it does.


It's finished. That's all you get. I couldn't care less of why you hated it. It's an odd chapter, I'll admit. I left Rogue's boyfriend up to you, which is why I didn't name him. The cookie jar is closed.

I accidentally.. somehow.. deleted this chapter? I suck at the internet.