This was NOT supposed to be all drama-and-sad-and-"Oh, hell, Remy, what did you do now?"-sort of thing. But it kinda evolved that way and well. *sighs* Just trust me that you want to whack him, repeatedly (and Rogue usually too), but there is some resolution at the end of this.

Again, another of my X-Men song fics (THIS NEEDS TO STOP!), and I figured out finally it was movie-verse rather than Evo. It is authentically movie-verse, meaning that yes, Remy doesn't have his usual eyes (curse Striker for ruining them *pouts), and he is older, and Rogue did take the cure (I went the cure-fail option again). It is based around another song by Nathan Brown, All I've Ever Known, from his CD Gypsy Moon. GO BUY IT NOW! It is an amazing CD, just like he is an amazing poet and a great guy, you won't regret it.

And with that, enjoy.

Disclaimer: I in no way, shape, or form own any of the characters or the song that served as inspiration for this story. I make no profits, I earn nothing, and believe me when I say I never will using somebody else's work. I'm doing this for the kicks, folks. Go give Marvel and Nathan Brown some money if you want to make a donation.

Narrowly avoiding one of the younger students as he literally flew down the hall (Cannonball seemed like an adequate mutant tag for him after all), Remy slipped into the kitchen and leaned against the door frame with a sigh, running his hand over his face. "Dis place is a mad house," he muttered to himself. Honestly, he just wanted a quiet place to read for a little while, with Rogue in the middle of teaching. Classes were obviously in progress, so there weren't really empty classrooms. His room wasn't fully unpacked yet. His last hope was the kitchen.

"Problems, Gumbo?"

He mentally groaned as he looked to the kitchen counter. And obviously the kitchen wasn't entirely empty either. However, if forced to chose between venturing back into that mess or putting up with Logan for a few minutes, he'd take the Canadian. "Non," he finally answered shortly. Setting his book down on the counter, he walked over to the coffee pot. There was still some in it, as there usually was as the teachers tried to survive the long days in Mutant High. Pouring a cup, he finished the pot and set it to start again.

Taking a sip, he made a face. Storm had made the last pot. She was the only person he knew who could mess up coffee this badly. Shaking his head, he turned around and plunked down on a stool, unusually loud just because he was so put out. His annoyance grew when he saw the spot where he left his book was now empty.

"Claws, mon ami, why don' y' just put down de livre, before y' hurt y' brain?" he said in exasperation, reaching to snatch back his copy of The Conte of Monte Cristo.

Logan pointedly let him have it back before subtly reaching for the only mug of coffee on the counter. He ignored the jib at his intelligence and noted in amusement, "Thickest I've heard your accent in a while, Cajun."

With a scowl, Remy grabbed his coffee, putting his hand over the top of it and ignoring the heat of the steam as he yanked it towards him. "Obtenes ton propre!"

"Oh ho, French now? Alright, spill Gumbo. What's crawled up your ass?"

Remy glared at the Wolverine as he opened his book. "I like my things to be left alone," he said, pointedly lightening his accent. "My book, my coffee. No touchy."

Logan quirked a brow and leaned back. All that was missing was a cigar to be chewing on, and it would be a scene Remy was all too familiar with. It was the pose he took when he was wiggling information out of Rogue, and it always worked. Remy would like to think he was better than that, in a good mood.

He was not in a good mood.

"'m not sure Remy's made out for dis, Claws," he said with a sigh, slouching down and rubbing one of his temples. "Dis ol' Thief is pretty set in his ways, non?"

"Bad morning?" Now Logan had a smidge of sympathy in his voice.

Remy groaned and rolled his eyes upward. "Premiere, ma chére decides t' knock on mon door at six dis morning. Six. Don't she know dat decent Thieves ain't up till noon? Den dat Chaton, she walk straight t'rough Remy on de way to breakfast." He shuddered and was thrilled when Logan made a face that reflected he didn't care for Kitty's habit either. "No bourbon, no good bourbon, to be found nort' of de Mason-Dixon, and de food up here, Dieu, it's like y'all don' have a sense o' taste, it's so bland. Remy wasn' expectin' it be like dis…"

"If ya don't like it, why are ya still here?" a sharp, female retort made Remy start cursing mentally in French as he twisted around. There was his Rogue, her eyes snapping in anger as she stood with her hands on her hips, an empty coffee mug in hand the obvious reason why she had happened upon the kitchen.

"Sha, y' know dat's not it," he tried to explain, standing up. "Remy been doin' t'in's his own way for a while now, an' now Remy is doin' de best dat Remy can. Mais, dis just wasn' de kinda place Remy t'ought…"

"Why? Ah told ya, the school comes first," she retorted sharply, slamming her mug down. Remy winced, wondering how the ceramic survived such abuse.

"Remy…" he started, only to pause. He didn't think it would be in his best interest to say that he focused more on the idea of the X-Men and being with her, so he completely ignored the whole "school first" part of her explanation.```

Logan snickered. "He was too busy eye-fucking you to listen." He casually flipped a page of Remy's book, ignoring both Southerners' glares at him.

"Merci, Claws," Remy hissed, before turning back to Rogue, "Cherie—" he started, only to have her hold up her hand, her face a mask of rage. In complete silence, she stalked out of the kitchen, not even grabbing her empty cup. Grumbling to himself, Remy began to curse in French, this time out loud, as he glared at Logan one more time before leaving the kitchen. Forget the book, Logan could have his damn coffee, he needed a smoke. Now.

Snickering to himself, Logan turned another page and reached for the Cajun's untouched coffee. Really, screwing with the two of them was just too easy sometimes. He knew it would blow over, all their lows usually did and then turned into their nauseating behavior when their relationship was at their peak. Without thinking, he raised the mug to his mouth and took a swig. He made a face.

Storm had made the last pot of coffee.

And Remy completely left it behind on purpose. Mentally, Logan made a note for the Cajun's next Danger Room session.

Like Logan had thought, the Southern couple had fallen back together with a few days, but he and Ororo were watching them closely. There was more tension there than there normally was, and somehow it felt like someone had partially welded them together, without fixing what had broken between them in the first place.

The truth was, Remy never apologized for what he said to Logan. True, most of it was said in a bad temper, but the fact remained it was what he felt. When he saw that she was no longer in a peak of temper, he had wormed his way back into her company, and things were like they had been before the kitchen argument.

The tentative peace lasted till one Catholic, blue-skinned teleporter decided to pop in (literally) for a visit. Not only did tensions between Ororo and Logan suddenly escalate as Kurt unknowingly created yet another love triangle in the mansion, but he had the misfortune of stumbling right into Rogue and Remy's issues as well.

It began simply enough. Kitty, upon hearing that Kurt had never seen the two new Batman movies, had immediately set up a viewing in the den. The younger batch of teachers, Logan, Storm, and of course Remy, who merely came to be with Rogue, had settled in and enjoyed the films. It was afterwards that everything fell apart.

"I cannot imagine having traveled to so many places," the teleporter commented as he absently stretched.

Remy had just finished doing the same, collapsing bonelessly against the couch again, one arm around Rogue's slim shoulders. "Oh, mon ami," he said with a sigh, "T'ere is not'in' like it." How fondly he remembered, going where ever he wanted, nothing to guide him but the code and laws of the Guild and his own personal morals. "Used t' be, Remy would be in Vegas un nuit, den would be off t' L.A. by de the next. Weren' nowhere Remy didn' go. Best time o' his life…"

The entire group suddenly went quiet, and a few of the young teachers turned to stare at him. It was Storm's wide-eyed look and Logan's narrowed that made him repeat what he just said in his mind, before worriedly glancing down at his femme, rigid against his side. Her head was down, her hands fisted in the fabric of her loose, cotton sweats she wore as lounge clothes.

"Sha," he started, "Remy didn' mean—"

"Shut up," she hissed at him, standing up and stalking out of the room.

"Merde," he hissed rubbing his face, before hurrying out as well, just to avoid the stares. He didn't go after Rogue, though. She was too upset and angry at him. Instead, he went to find somewhere where he could be alone. "Not mon fault," he grumbled under his breath as he walked towards the arboretum. "What does dat fille expect? 'm a grown man, I had a plan for mon life…" Sighing loudly in disgust, he planted himself in a corner, stewing.

Okay, he was being honest. He hadn't meant it the way she took it. They hadn't been together long enough for him to no longer think of his wandering days as his best. Sure, he had started to wonder about settling down somewhere when he met her, and the way she helped remind him of home without the pressure of being the son of the King of Thieves had made her seem like an amazing option, but Dieu, what did she expect from him? Really? He crossed his arms, sucking on the end of a cigarette.

That was how Storm found him a couple of hours later, the clock's chime warning that it was already the wee hours of the next day. In her hands was a tray, loaded with two cups of coffee. One was her own, heavily creamed and sugared, while she had made the other black, the way she knew he liked it.

"Here," she offered him with a sigh, taking her one cup and sitting across from her. She was too busy to notice how he made a face but reluctantly held the cup in his hand, but didn't touch it. "Alright, let's sort through this mess you got yourself in."

"Mess Remy got himself in?" he said sharply, obviously shocked.

"Yes," she said pointedly, "Bad word choice mostly."

He winced and glared at the cup. "What does she want from Remy? Remy is here. Remy is tryin'."

"Remy is reportedly opening his mouth and saying things that make her think that you don't want to be here," she added.

He stared at her. "She t'inks what?"

"Remy, you keep talking about how great your life before her was and how horrid life here with her is. What do you expect her to think?"

The two had their eyes locked, Remy in complete confusion while Storm was patiently exasperated. "It's all Remy's ever known, ma sœur…" he said with a sigh.

Sighing, Storm broke the deadlock as she stood up. "Just… Think about what made you decide to come here. You chose to follow Rogue. Why? Why do you stay? She's told you, I know, that you could leave whenever you want. Answer those questions, and then tell her them. She needs to hear them."

He watched her leave, making sure she was out of earshot and sight before he tossed that horrid coffee into one of her plants. Maybe it could benefit from it. Setting the cup down on the nearby table, he leaned his back against the wall and groaned to himself as he remembered when he met Rogue…

Sipping his bourbon, he watched the crowd from his perch at the bar. His last job had gone off without a hitch, and the tithes were off to Jean-Luc so he would stay off his case. His life was his own, till another contract came up. He didn't necessarily need the work, but it kept him busy. Kept him from noticing how there was no one in his life anymore, no home, no real family… Sighing, he sat down the bourbon glass with a thump. It wasn't helping anymore, not like it used to. He was getting too old for this…

Streaks of white caught his attention, mostly because they were in an otherwise dark head of hair. Blinking in surprise, he sat up and focused on picking their owner out of the crowd.

A young fille, too young for such white streaks unless she had some bad luck with genes. Alone in a place like this, he mentally called her either the bravest or stupidest little thing he saw in a while. When she neatly about broke the wrist of a more grabby patron who dared try to crop a feel of her ass, he grinned and struck through the idea of her being a fool. She was just another soldier in the world.

He stood and silently crossed the shady bar, approaching her from the side so she had plenty of time to notice him. "Not sure dis is a bon place for you, sha," he told her with an easy smile.

She narrowed her eyes at him and gave him a smile that reminded him too much of that crazy Wolverine he met so many years ago. "Ain't ya a bit too far from home to make snap judgements, Cajun?" she retorted. He felt a shiver go up his spine. A Southern Belle… Suppose he shouldn't be surprised here in Memphis, but that accent… No, it spoke of the river.

"Don' know, Mississippi," he guessed, and was thrilled when spark filled her eyes.

"Ain't been there in a long time," she said with a sigh, settling herself at a nearby table at his indication.

"Sure y' not on y' way back down for a visit?" he asked as he sat across from her.

A shadow crossed her face. "No… No, Ah burned that bridge a long time ago now. My boyfriend is suppose to be flyin' to Memphis tomorrow, but a storm is blocking his flight up north, so Ah thought Ah'd drive him back."

"Boyfriend?" he questioned. The way she said it, it seemed like she wasn't sure of that status or not.

She shrugged and didn't answer at first. A waitress stopped by and she ordered a shot of whiskey. The woman didn't even check her ID, just went off to collect the drink. Only when she had the fiery alcohol in front of her did she answer with a sigh, "He went on a recruitin' mission for our job… Down in Houston. Suppose to meet up with this girl, tell her about our cause, then come back home, with her if she was willin'. Straight forward, right? But he's been down there for a week, and the folks in charge up north, well…" she bit her lip before continuing, "They're keepin' somethin' from me, and Ah think Ah know what. Ah've seen the girl's picture, ya know? And it wouldn't be the first time…"

"Oh, sha…" he said with a sigh, "y' need to find y'self a real homme…"

She chuckled a little. "Like ya?"

He was surprised by his own reply. "Oui," he said instantly, "Remy Lebeau, at y'r service."

The belle femme returned the smile and said simply, "Well, Remy, Ah'm Rogue. A pleasure."

For the rest of the night, they talked, about everything and anything. She brought up her school, the X-Men, offered a place there if he got the urge. Told him about taking the Cure, it wearing off and having to learn control on her own. He told her about the Guild, being adopted by the Lebeau family only to have it all blow up in his face when his mutant powers emerged. Being sold to Striker (who she surprising knew about already), and escaping only to return to his beloved city and discover that it no longer quite felt like home, so he became a traveler.

He watched her drive away, still needing to pick up the soon-to-be-ex-boyfriend (he had managed to convince her of that much at least) and drive up to New York in the morning. He wasn't sure where he was going next. But then the rumors he heard of the X-Men, the idea of being with that interesting femme all the time… Being settled for the first time in ages. With a grin, he whistled as he twirled his key ring. Looked like he was about to liven up Westchester…

Bringing himself out of the memory, Remy rubbed his face with a sigh as he noticed that false dawn was beginning. Rogue had indeed broken up with Bobby, especially when he arrived in the arms of Lorna Dane. She had come back to the mansion, only to find Remy waiting for her. He gave her space for a few weeks, let her get over the Ice Boy. And then he had swung in, claiming her for his own and wanting to try a relationship, a real one, for the first time in his life. He suppose he couldn't blame her for being mad at him. But still, she had made her mistakes in this too.

Standing up with a sigh, he stretched as his body protested the idea of having been in one position for so long while he brooded. He needed to talk to Rogue. He walked on cat feet out the door and up the halls to the teachers' rooms. The lock didn't even need trying, he knew she rarely locked it. She needed someone to wake her up from other's nightmares, a habit he had been more than happy to fall into.

He opened the door as quietly as possible, only to blink in surprise. There sat his cherie, still wide-awake, dressed in one his t-shirts (when had she stolen one of those from him?) and looking like she had never fallen asleep last night. "Rogue…" he said softly.

"Ah… Ah really ain't been fair to ya, have Ah, Rems?" she said softly, not even looking at him.

With a sigh, he walked over and pulled her into his arms. "Oh, sha… I haven' been t'inkin' before I open mon mout' eit'er." Squeezing her affectionately at her chocked laugh, he continued earnestly, "Y' have t' understand, Rogue-chére, I… I had my whole life planned, or t'ought I did. Now, all I t'ink about on any of dem missions is gettin' back here where y' are, an' that worries moi. 'm a grown man. Didn' t'ink I needed to hurry back to someone no more." He felt her tense in his hold, so he hurried to finish what he figured out after Storm left him, "Mais, bebe, y' make moi… Make moi feel like 'm home again, non? Feel y' all de way in mon bones. Like y're all I've ever known. I don' want to be alone no more. I want to be wit' y, Anna-Marie…"

She sniffled, and he realized he had made her cry somehow. Sighing, he tried to figure out how to fix this all over again, only to find her mouth on his. "Ah want to be with ya, too, Remy," she said against his mouth and he sighed inwardly in relief as he realized that he had eased some of their shared hurt, mostly hers.

They had so much left to talk about… He sighed out loud this time, against her mouth, and wrapped her more firmly in his arms. What they both wanted, what they both were feeling, an apology for the stuff he had been saying lately (it was true, but he should have talked to her first), her apology to him for being so touchy (he couldn't blame her after Bobby, but it was still an issue)...him finding out when the hell she stole that shirt to sleep in… A grin, wicked and devious in nature crossed his face first. "Sha…" he whispered in her ear, smiling wider when she shuddered, "I t'ink I'll keep ya to myself for a while now…"

*covers eyes* And they proceed to be… well, typical Rogue and Remy when Rogue has the ability to touch, and sometimes when she doesn't (he gets clever). So, hope you all enjoyed! All French is easily understood (I hope) as is any Cajun slang. If there is any confusion, say so in a review and I will be more than happy to tell you.