Rogue was intoxicated. It was only hours ago that Bobby had finally come up to her and broke it off for good. Rogue had been aware of his infidelities for some time, but she'd been too scared to mention it to him. She was afraid of losing the only one who had looked past her mutation and started a relationship with her, afraid of how Kitty, her roommate, would react to her if she knew Rogue had known about her, afraid of being alone…again.

Rogue had fled the mansion nearly in tears. She had held up a soft face for Bobby, accepting in front of him, even agreeing. But once he had left the room, she quickly crawled out the window and jumped down onto her sill ledge. From there, it hadn't been hard to jump to the nearest tree and slide down its trunk. She didn't particularly know how she'd ended up at the bar; it had to be a little bit of Logan's fault, for that's how he always drowned out his worries and sorrows, but there she was all the same.

Having never particularly gone out drinking before, she had no resistance to the alcohol. She had quickly become drunk without even realizing it, so buried in her own thoughts. The alcohol tasted vile and wrong, her system rejected its unwanted entry into her body. After awhile, her thoughts started to thin out and blur, so that she couldn't consecutively concentrate on one thing. No thinking, no noisy psyches, for once; all her problems simply evaporated into the air. She was dazed and unaware, nothing mattered. It was a feeling she liked.

Her hands shook as she set down her fifth glass. "Cahn Ah…" Rogue slightly raised her hand, wavering on the stool as she spoke. Her words were slurred together; her native southern accent was thick in her mouth. "Cahn Ah have 'nother please…" Nobody seemed to hear her; the bartender was fixing someone else's drink. Rogue slouched in her seat, resting her head against the countertop. It felt so good to feel nothing, why hadn't she ever done this before? Oblivion was a wonderful feeling.

A figure plopped down in the seat right next to her, cutting off her sideways view of the bartender. "Absol Reldy Vodka, unaltered." The bartender looked up from his customer and moved over to the new man. Rogue frowned as she saw the bartender move into view again, serving the man beside her. As he began to pour the man's drink, Rogue weakly held out her empty bottle.

"Ah want some." She directed at the bartender, looking straight at him. The bartender seemed to ignore her. The man beside her glanced over her way and flashed a smile.

"An' one fo' de lady." Giving Rogue a doubtful glance, the bartender began pouring her drink. Rogue frowned at the man and glared when he turned his head down, the man beside Rogue chuckled.

"Dey usually serve de regulars above others. Y' have t' be a little louder dan dat t' get what y' want, chere."

Rogue took her gaze away from the bartender and slowly turned her head to look at the man next to her. He was quite a sight, even in her blurred vision. The contours of his high cheekbones were pronounced in all the right ways, his jawbone was strongly cut, narrow, but not too prominent. Lean, but muscular arms stretched taught against the white shirt he wore. His shirt fell just right against his stomach, so that Rogue could see the outline of his abs quite clearly. His wavy, brown hair swayed with the wind whenever the door opened or closed, passing over his eyes. Or rather, his sunglasses. Rogue couldn't be sure what color his eyes were, but she imagined they were just as beautiful as the rest of him.

"Thank ya…" Rogue slurred dizzily. The bartender dropped her drink down in front of her and she grabbed for it unsteadily.

The man smiled wider and held out his hand. "Remy LeBeau, at y' service."

Rogue reached for his hand, missed once, then grabbed it on the second try, a little off to the side. "Rogue."

Remy didn't even blink at the name. "Remy couldn't help but notice," He began, speaking in third person, "But y' look a little drunk dere, cherie. Y' sure y' want dat drink?"

Rogue possessively brought her drink closer and waved him off airily. "Ah'm not drunk." At his curved smile, she added. "Okay, jus' a little tipsy. But Ah'm fahne." To emphasize her point, Rogue took a large gulp of the drink in front of her. It burned down her throat and her head swam. Rogue tried to sit up and nearly fell off her stool before Remy caught her arm and hoisted her back upright.

"Y' way passed de buzz state," He picked up his drink and downed it, quickly followed was Rogue's drink. Rogue weakly protested, but she could barely even sit up straight. He easily wiggled it out of her hand and downed it. "Time fo' y' t' go home, cherie. Y' too cute fo' a place like dis, underage too, s'far as Remy can tell."

"Ya…ya drank maw drink." Rogue protested, still not over the fact. Remy chuckled and pulled her to her feet. She swayed unsteadily and nearly fell into Remy. Remy grabbed her around the shoulders and pulled her into his chest so she could support herself against him. Rogue leaned against him and her arms flew around his middle. Absently inhaling his scent, she lazily grinned. He smelled of spicy Cajun food mixed with a tinge of alcohol that he'd just consumed. Remy's smile was firmly fixed in place as he paid the bartender.

Remy lightly put a hand on Rogue's shoulder and, despite the warmth from her body, he steered her in the other direction. Somewhat reluctantly, Rogue pulled away from him and, with Remy's guided help, she steered herself to the door. Almost throwing herself upon it, her hands seemed to roam the whole door before finding the knob. She turned it and fell out the door.

Rogue was met with a puddle of sloppy, wet mud. Her upper thigh had smashed down harshly against the raised doorway; she could already feel the bruises forming. She groaned inwardly as two hands grabbed her shoulders and hoisted her up. Remy propped her up in his arms, carrying her sideways, like a little child. "Drivin' may not be de best idea fo' y',"

Rogue's head lolled again and she curled up against his chest, barely aware of the pouring rain that made his white shirt see-through or of the fact that she was getting mud all over his shirt. She just wanted to sleep. "Ah didn' drive." Rogue commented absently, not really sure what that had to do with anything.

"Y' walked here?" Remy asked, confused. Rogue nodded, but it just made her dizzier so she stopped quickly.


"Well, chere, where do y' live?"

Rogue scrunched her forehead, trying to think. Nothing came up. "Ah-Ah dunno."

Rogue couldn't see his face, due to her head being buried in his chest and her eyes closed, but Remy's smile widened even more. "Y' want t' go back t' Remy's place?"

Rogue couldn't think. Nothing mattered, just as long as she could curl up someplace soft, like Remy's chest, and sleep. She felt so sick, she just wanted her bliss. "Mmmhmmm,"

Remy carried her over to the side of the bar and stopped in front of a bike. "Now chere, since y' so 'tipsy' as y' say, y' goin' t' sit in front, so y' don' fall off, oui?"

Rogue's eyebrows crossed, confused. "We?" Remy took that as confirmation and gently straddled her against the bike. He sat down behind her and pulled her into him, making sure that she didn't tilt. With that, he kicked the bike to life and with a roar, they were off.

Rogue blinked wearily as the ground began to spin away. The fast bike was only making her more nauseous, jouncing this way and that. She slumped forward, only held up by Remy's arm around her waist. He was driving one-handed. The fact should have scared her, but she was too beyond thoughts to even notice.

The motorcycle pulled into a new spot and stopped. Remy hopped off and pulled her off before she fell. "Can y' walk yet o' no?"

Rogue staggered, "Remy…Ah feel sick."

"Y' be fine, chere. Y' need t' throw up?"


"Den let's go. Come on, Remy'll carry y'." With that, he picked Rogue up off her feet again and made his way into the house. Rogue was too drunk to appreciate the beauty and vastness of his house, or to wonder how one such person could afford such a huge home. He carried her into his bedroom and gently rolled her into his bed. It sloshed under her, wavily moving, it was a waterbed. "Y' need some dry clothes, cherie."

He disappeared from view for a minute and reappeared with an armful of clothes that he deposited on the bed. "Remy'll be right outside de door." He disappeared again. Slowly, Rogue crawled across the mattress to the foot of the bed, no easy feet in itself. The bed swayed, making her fall once into its squishy covers. She finally reached the pile and began removing her soaked shirt. It clung to her body, but Rogue managed to pull it off and drop it on the floor. She grabbed Remy's shirt and pulled it over her head. It was slightly too big, but snuggly for just being a V-neck undershirt. Her jeans followed in the same fashion and she pulled on a pair of boxers. She even removed her gloves, tucking them neatly on top of the pile. Once all the necessary clothes had been changed, she struggled to make her way back to the top of the bed and fell into the pillow.

Two minutes later, the door hesitantly opened. "Hey, fille, dere be no other beds open…" he looked at Rogue's frame and saw she was sound asleep. Carefully shutting the door behind him, he picked up her wet clothes and draped them over the drying rack in the bathroom. Remy glanced back at Rogue. "Ah, Remy see dat y' leave him a spot." He jumped in the bed beside her. "Dank y'." For a long while, Remy just watched her. Her chest rose and fell evenly, her eyes remained shut. She looked so peaceful. The wind from the open window blew a strand of hair across her face. Remy reached out and pushed it aside, and then let his hand linger on his cheek. Her face was so soft, she looked so innocent…

Something tugged at Remy from inside. He ignored it, figuring the alcohol was losing its buzz. He gently stroked her cheek as the tugging grew stronger. Suddenly, Remy wasn't feeling so great. His energy seemed to be…disappearing? Rogue's veins showed up deeply in her angelic face. The world grew dim and Remy fell into unconsciousness. His hand limply fell away from Rogue's face. Both lay there, unconscious and not knowing the consequences of the next morning.

Rogue's head hurt. As she bridged the move from unconsciousness to semi-consciousness, that's what she first became aware of. It felt like someone was pounding away at her skull with a sledgehammer. The more she awoke, the worse it became. Rogue groaned and rolled over, trying to get a more comfortable position.

Thoughts floated through her mind aimlessly, confusing her yet further. Many women passed her closed eyes, women she didn't know and had never seen before. Unconsciously, she licked her lips. There were other thoughts too. Thoughts of the south, of the guild she missed so much. Especially Bella. And the X-Mansion, that was scheduled for today…Rogue was confused. She didn't know a Belladonna and she most certainly wouldn't be getting married to another woman. She swallowed and opened her eyes.

The light stung her eyes, but she didn't even notice. Not four inches from her face was that of a handsome young man. His hand lay outstretched, even closer to her face than his face was. Rogue screamed and rolled the other way, falling off the bed with a thump. Her yelling seemed to rouse the young man.

"Remy didn't do it…" He mumbled as he opened his eyes. He saw Rogue's crumpled form on the floor and yawned. "Hey cherie, interestin' night, don' y' think?"

Rogue stared at the man in horror and then looked down at herself, dressed in his light t-shirt and boxers. She screamed again and crossed her legs, grabbing the blanket from the floor and holding it up to her chin. "Wh-Who are y'?" A mix of her southern twang and his accent colored her words. "What did y' do ta meh?!"

Remy lifted his eyes to her face and his jaw grew slack. "Chere, y' eyes!"

Rogue backed away until her back hit the wall. It was then she became aware of a tingling sensation in her fingers. It was an ache, almost, nervous energy filled her body. As soon as she noticed it, the blanket in her fingers started to glow magenta. Panicking, she threw it down and edged away from it.

Remy's eyes bulged, not that she could see behind his glasses. He jumped forward and touched the blanket. Immediately, the magenta glow disappeared into his fingers.

Rogue's eyes were fixed on him in terror. She was trembling, her expression fearful, her hands shook. The energy in her fingers begged to be released, almost to the point of hurting. Her head pounded. The other thoughts made sense now, they were his. She tried hard to remember what had happened last night, but she couldn't. If she had his thoughts and was wearing his clothes and woke up in his bed, they…

Rogue crumpled to the floor as if someone had jabbed the back of her knees. She began to sob into her hands. She didn't know how the man, Remy, had did it, but it appeared more than likely that they had.

Something gently touched her shoulder and Rogue fell back, wrenching herself away. "Don' touch meh!" She cried out, hostile and afraid. She wiped away at her tears with the back of her hand and looked to the side, unable to look at Remy's face. "Where are mah clothes?" She sniffed, closing her eyes once more and swallowing thickly.

Remy stared at Rogue, befuddled. He was confused as to how she had his power and his eyes, or why she was crying. "In de bathroom." He pointed to the adjoining room.

Rogue felt sick to her stomach. She felt like a low life slut; she had degraded herself to a one-nighter with a guy she had met last night. She didn't even know how it happened, couldn't even remember any part of it at all.

Rogue scampered off into the bathroom and promptly emptied her stomach in the toilet. It did nothing to make her feel better. She washed her face and finally lifted her eyes to the mirror.

Two unfamiliar red-on-black orbs stared back at her. She gasped and nearly fell back, surprised and frightened. They must have been Remy's eyes. Rogue took her gaze away from the mirror. Her thighs hurt. A small, doubting little voice in the back of her mind told her something was wrong. Careful to keep in her aching fingers energy, she lifted the bottom of her shorts. Black and blue bruises stared back at her, as if mocking her. Appalled, Rogue turned and her eyes fell upon the small countertop. Her clothes were laid out; sopping wet from something Rogue didn't even want to think about. Everything was against her. Rogue turned and left, leaving her clothes on the countertop.

The tears had returned to her eyes. Her fingers still ached terribly, as did the rest of her body. Remy stood in the doorway, blocking the exit of that horrible bedroom. Rogue couldn't look at him. "Cahn…Cahn y' let meh go, please?" Her voice still wasn't completely her own. She'd have to file away Remy's personality later.

Remy stared at the girl in wonder. "What's wrong chere? Why y' goin' all shy on Remy?"

His endearments only scarred her further, pushing the knife deeper through her heart. More tears fell. "Please?" Remy stepped aside. Rogue passed without even glancing at him.

Rogue was distraught. She held her arms close to her body, afraid of accidentally touching anyone. She had left her gloves on top of the pile of clothes. It was too late to go back now. Rogue was so caught up in her thoughts that she didn't see the next person step in front of her. She collided into him painfully and fell back on her butt.


Rogue's tearstained gaze lifted to the speaker's face. "John?" John gasped and stepped back at the sight of her eyes. Suddenly, his expression darkened as he viewed her clothes, her shaking frame, and her eyes.

"You stay there." He ordered. Rogue watched him look up. "REMY!" Remy glanced at John with a raised eyebrow.


John dove at Remy and tackled him to the ground. He got in one good punch before Remy turned the tables around and ended up pinning John beneath him. John was fuming. "You stupid, good for nothing retarded thief of a Cajun! Do you know who that is?! You fu-"

"Calm down, homme! Dat's jus' de fille Remy picked up at de bar yesterday. She passed out; Remy didn't do anythin' with her."

Rogue snapped to alertness. "Ya-Ah mean, we didn'…ya know, we didn't do…anythin'?"

"Call Remy ol' fashion, chere, but Remy prefers de fille t' be conscious."

Rogue sighed deeply in relief and lay down. "Thank God." She closed her eyes, resting for a minute, before she thought of something. Her eyes shot open again. "But then, y'-ya touched meh! Why did y' touch meh? How did Ah get here? Why am Ah in ya clothes? Why…why am Ah bruised?"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, cherie, calm down! One question at a time. Y' were drunk last night, 'member?" Rogue gave him a confused look. Remy sighed. "Y' were drunk an' could barely walk. Remy asked where y' lived so he could take y' home, but y' didn't know, so Remy took y' here. Y' fell on de way, dat's where y' got bruised an' y' changed into Remy's clothes 'cause y' were wet."

Rogue frowned. "That doesn't tell meh why y' touched meh."

Remy grinned. "Was jus' movin' y' hair out o' y' face. Y' touch is a pretty harsh biter. Remy fell unconscious next t' y'."

Something seemed to hit John. "Jesus, she touched you!"

The same thing seemed to occur to Rogue at the same minute. "Y' were gunna kidnap meh!" She looked directly at John and gasped. Rogue scrambled to her feet and made a mad dash for the door.

John roughly pushed Remy off him and jumped up after her. Before Rogue could even get to the door or John could get to her, she collided into another person who had come out of nowhere. It was all a blur to her, only seconds after she'd hit the floor she was pinned beneath the other boy. "It's okay," The white-haired kid called out, "I've got her." His knees were widespread across her arms, preventing any feisty arm movements. Rogue was at least glad to see that he was wearing jeans, she felt too exposed in Remy's short sleeved t-shirt and boxer shorts.

Rogue knew him from Remy's memories only. His name was Pietro, and other than that, she couldn't really draw any conclusions. He was lean, like Remy, but not as grown or matured as him. He looked like a protesting teenager. Completely white hair was slicked back with many layers of gel. "Another wild girl, Remy?"

Rogue struggled, but couldn't get her arms free from under his weight. Grunting with the effort, because she was neither as flexible as Kitty or as slight, she threw her unhindered legs back at an unnatural angel and wound them around Pietro's stomach. Groaning in pain, she gritted her teeth and launched her legs forward with all the strength she could muster.

Pietro didn't exactly fly head over heels as the move was supposed to make him, but he did teeter and fall to the side. Rogue's legs and already bruised thighs screamed in protest. Rogue had almost gotten to her feet by the time John mauled her over. She was pinned to the floor again, only on her stomach this time, with her hands tightly held around her back and with Remy firmly planted on her legs. A harsh blow fell across the side of her cheek and Rogue turned her head to evade more blows, only to be smacked again on the other side of her face. The blows were so fast and so hard, her mutation didn't have time to react.

"That's enough, Pietro!"

Rogue raggedly breathed in, "Get off mah legs! Dey're already bruised enough as it is." She mentally belated herself for still keeping his accent.

"No, don't." John commanded, tight lipped and angry. This wasn't how the plan was supposed to go.

"Remy's not stupid, homme. He's not 'bout t' let de fille go."

"Pietro, go get some duck tape."

"Let meh go!"

"Can't do that, Rogue." Pietro had already returned with the duck tape. Careful to avoid touching any skin, John held back her arms as Pietro wrapped her hands together with recessive layers of duck tape. Soon following were her feet, similarly bound together. Rogue struggled, but she was not stronger than the three mutants.

"Set her down in a chair." Remy was the one to comply. Gently, he sat her down upright in a wooden chair at the table. John started pacing.

"Ya can't keep meh here!" Rogue growled, sounding more like the guttural Logan than her normal self.

Nobody answered her.

Rogue sat back in her seat and sighed. She had to file away Remy's memories and personality now. Keeping the three's voices in the back of her mind, calculating their conversation, Rogue began the trying process of separating her thoughts and memories, her personality from Remy's.

"So, who's dis fille?"

"She's Rogue-" John shook his head, "Marie-you know, the girl I was planning to kidnap from the mansion?"

"Well dat saves time. See, Remy done a good ding."

Pietro grunted. "We still have to infiltrate the mansion."

"Remy knows dat, but now y' don' have t' capture de fille in de base. All a bonus."

Pietro suddenly looked at John in a demeaning way, questioning. "What exactly were you planning to do with this girl? You still haven't told us that."

John shrugged. "I just wanted to get back at Bobby. She's his girlfriend; I didn't plan on anything else."

Rogue was sorely tempted to say something, but she wanted to hear the rest of the conversation first, so she kept her mouth shut.

Remy smacked his head and Pietro lifted his eyes to the ceiling. "Great. Well then, what's the problem? Since you didn't really plan on actually doing anything to her anyway, this just saves one step in the process, doesn't it?"

"It would have…" John glared at Remy, "If Remy had kept his dirty hands to himself."

"So what's de problem?" Remy carelessly shrugged. "Remy didn't do anythin' t' de fille."

"Yes you did!" John was enraged. "You touched her! Remy, she has all your thoughts now! She has your 'pysche'-all your desires and conscious and shit!"

Remy grinned widely, "Den she wants t' have some fun, no?"

"No! She knows the plan and everything we've done in the past, you idiot!"

Remy paused. "Still not seein' de harm, homme. So what if she knows what Remy's been up t'? What's she goin' t' do about it?"

"She lives with the X-Men, dumbass! She can't do anything, but they can! They're created to hunt down mutants like us!"

Rogue was mad. First, she had been dragged in by a dirty, perverted Cajun who just wanted to get in her pants. After involuntarily absorbing him, he had (under false pretenses) made her believe that she'd slept with him, and then she'd been roughly tackled and kidnapped by the same three men. She hated being the weak link with the crappy mutant power. Rogue would think of this time if she ever wanted to go drinking again.

The duck tape around her wrists started to glow. Rogue yelped at the sudden heat and cried out. Remy saw the familiar glow and raced over, he touched the duck tape and the glow disappeared. "Y' be careful t' watch y' emotions, chere. Don' go blowin' nothin' up."

Rogue's eyes narrowed at the Cajun, then turned on John. "Ya stupid plan isn't goin' ta work. An' jus' fohr ya information, which is already faulty at that, Bobby broke up with meh last night! So ya cahn jus' let meh go now, 'cause ya an idiot who doesn't know what he's doin'."

John faltered. "Bobby broke up with you?" Rogue turned her head down, aware of what she had just shouted and ashamed. Wetness threatened to fall at the corners of her eyes, but she wouldn't let the tears fall. John didn't deserve the satisfaction of seeing her cry. In fact, John didn't seem aware of her reaction at all. "That's brilliant! Do you know how guilty he's going to feel when you don't show up at the mansion tomorrow? He'll kill himself over it! Bobby's the stupid hero type to do something like that." John stalked off, back to his room, satisfied.

Pietro glanced down at Rogue and shook his head disdainfully. He followed John until the split in the hallway and made his way to his own room. Remy sat down in a chair next to Rogue and began aimlessly shuffling a deck of cards. A silent tear slipped away from Rogue's eyes. "Don' mind him, cherie. Sometimes his mouth works without realizin' de words."

Rogue fought hard not to sniff or raise her eyes to look at Remy. She didn't want him to see her cry. "What would ya know about anythin'? Ya jus' a dirty thief. Leave meh alone."

"Remy don' have t' be empathetic t' know when a fille is upset, chere. Dat one o' Remy's professions, he know a girl an' he know how she feels."

"Ah don't want ya advice or ya counsel."

Remy leaned back in his chair, almost relaxing. "M'kay cherie. Remy's jus' sayin', whoever dis Bobby boy is; he's a pretty sore loser at de moment. Gave up a pretty nice fille, s'all."

Rogue's jaw clenched uncomfortably. She forgot about her tears and stared down hard at the cocky thief. "Ya don't know meh. Ya jus' a player, a low grade, de-Stop lookin' at meh lihke that."

"Like what?"

"Lihke that. Stop undressin' meh with ya eyes." Rogue growled lowly, angry. "In fact, don' look at meh at all."

"But y' such a pretty picture, cherie." Remy chuckled softly, obviously not really caring about Rogue's anger. "Y' should be thankful fo' y' mutation. De boys would be all over y'."

Rogue's jaw tightened even more. She could almost hear her teeth grinding. "Shut up. Ya don't know what ya talkin' about."

"Y' should learn t' take a compliment, chere."

Rogue snapped. "Stop callin' meh ya stupid little nicknames! Mah name is Rogue an' Ah don't care what ya opinion is. As soon as Ah get outah here, Ah'm goin' t' set Logan on all of ya an' tell him ta rip ya'll ta shreds!"

"Whatever y' say, Roguey."

The duck tape binding Rogue's hands together lit up again. Remy grinned.