3

Angels

It had been a couple days since Rogue had seen the likes of Darien or Remy anywhere and it was starting to make her wonder if maybe it was best she didn't talk to either of them for a while… But right when she'd decided that she walked into the kitchen, the sun barely coming up; her eyes fell onto Darien sitting at the island in a Rancid shirt that was horribly worn, and had a few holes, accompanied by some black cotton PJ pants, his feet bare, gripping the rungs of the stool he sat atop of, smirking as she walked in. Rogue said nothing to him as she poured herself her morning coffee.

"'Morning, Stripes." Darien greeted her, nursing come coffee of his own.

Rogue grumbled, taking her seat opposite him on the island; settling with her coffee, and drinking heartily, taking her pent-up aggression out on the highly caffeinated beverage.

Darien laughed into his coffee, blue eyes rolling skyward in mock annoyance at Rogue's attitude towards him.

"You have no idea who I am, do you?" He asked her, tucking a strand of white behind his ear.

"Nope," She replied, emerald eyes only on him for a second. "an' I don't think ah wanna know."

"Fair enough, hell, if I were you, I wouldn't want to know me either."

Rogue nodded. "But… What— "Can I do?" Darien supplied. This made Rogue nod again.

"Ah, that Stripes, is a mystery." He grinned, but soon his face fell. "A mystery I'm not so sure I'm all that happy in confiding anymore, or divulging."

Rogue polished off her coffee, and poured herself another cup, offering Darien one to which he obliged.

"But you used to be happy about e'it?"

"Sort of," Darien began honestly not all that sure where to start, really. "Let's just say I'm a very, very old friend of Gambit's."

Rogue nodded slowly, she wanted to argue the fact that Darien was way too young to have known Gambit ages ago, but with some technology the Shi'ar and other entities had, it wasn't all that unlikely that Darien knew him.

"A very old friend that owes quite the favor," He added as a slight afterthought.

"Would y' jus' spit e'it out already?" Rogue said rather irritably.

"Sorry, no-can-do but I'm sure he can help you out." Darien offered, jerking a thumb in the direction of the door which Remy happened to be walking through with his own mug of coffee.

Upon seeing Darien, the mug that was once secure in Remy LeBeau's hands slipped free, smashing into a million pieces on the floor; his mouth slightly agape.

"Mon Dieu," He choked, "L'ange, de mort…"

Darien looked at Gambit rather blankly, hardly acknowledging his exclamation.

"I know Gambit owes you, mon frère, please, jus' gimme some mo' time."

Darien face turned serious then, no ounce of sympathy within his eyes. "I believe a century has been enough time, LeBeau."

Rogue looked from Darien to Remy, even more puzzled than before. This kid was the 'Angel of Death'? For some reason she had a hard time believing that, apart from the fact, the odds of Remy owing killer angels anything was ludicrous.

At seeing Rogue's confused face, Darien spoke. "LeBeau, I think you owe your girlfriend a bit of an explanation, here."

Remy nodded, ashen faced, while he pulled up a stool to the island joining Rogue and Darien.

"Chère," He began, taking her hand in his. "Lemme begin dis' by sayin' y'ain' gonna like what Remy's 'bout t'tell yo…"

Rogue nodded again, but she could tell even then, by the look in his eyes, this wasn't going to be anything good.