Edit: Yes, you've probably read this already. I've changed the Jane aspect slightly, as I'd been conflicted with how he would be related in any way with the characters Random as a kindly stranger finding them, that's already happened, and I have decided I don't like it.. This is one reason why I love FF; it's not set in stone.

So to those who read this, you can skip to a little after the second oOo. To those who haven't read this chapter before, ignore this:)

I'm pleased and a little surprised that Indy caught on to my little trick last chapter. For this chapter, I once again was helped out by BB. However, that part has been vastly re-written.

It was amazing where guesswork could get a person. Somehow, they'd found their way from their clearing and to a road. Not a main one, if the overhanging branches and weeds growing in the road were any indication, but a lesser used path was probably for the best. Their pursuer would be less likely to take it. That left Remy not really being sure of where they were, but he thought it best to keep that information to himself.

Something told him, perhaps that niggling of empathy he could never quite suppress, that Rogue would be less than pleased to hear that they were lost. Not that they were, really. But if he told her what the situation was, and he wasn't completely sure where they were going right now, she'd warp it in her female mind and think they were lost. That would just panic her, and he was determined to not put her through any more undue stress today.

He felt it was the least he could do for her after the whole day was pretty well ruined for her. It wasn't his fault in the slightest, but the man who had caused the damage wasn't within reach; truthfully, he rather preferred it that way.

After Rogue's small but poignant revelation about the predicament she'd left behind, a whole new wave of protectiveness and possessiveness had washed over him. The thought of another man even thinking he could own Rogue left him feeling sick and somewhat violent. When he'd nearly blown the both of them up, he knew he needed to move. Any sort of movement would have helped get the tension out of him.

He hadn't expected the reaction he'd have with Rogue in his arms. She seemed to fit with him perfectly. Her nervous excitement had been endearing, and the faces she'd made when he'd dipped her had been priceless. He hadn't even minded the other men staring. Let them look. He was the one who had her, and there had been no plans of sharing.

Then that mercenary and that whole fleeing in terror. And Rogue crying. That had been…something he could live his whole life never seeing again.

Personally, he was exhausted from the day's events. It amazed him that Rogue seemed to be having no trouble at all. But she wouldn't complain about something like that. That was just Rogue. His girl was tough like that.

Still, he wouldn't have minded a little conversation. However, Remy knew women well enough to know when not to talk to them. And right now, Rogue seemed just a little upset. It'd be best to keep his mouth shut…and not tell her he didn't know exactly where they were.


Rogue wasn't happy. That was the understatement of the century. But who wouldn't be after being forced to run and hide from an insane mercenary into some cold, wet forest with only a thieving, Swamp Rat as company. On top of that, her dress was ruined as was her hair. She'd really liked it, and after having to go through hours and preparation for it, it was torn and filthy.

Right now, she was irritated with everything, mostly though with that man. She could just barely stand her traveling companion. And by barely, she meant she was this close to absorbing him and leaving his sorry, unconscious butt stranded here for few hours while she got a head start. Safe to say, all her warm and fuzzy thoughts about him from this morning were long, long forgotten. They were something present at the back of her mind, and she was content to leave them there.

Truly, her fury towards him was not completely warranted. She was angry at Raven, Marko, the mercenaries, her father, Emma, Jean, and Remy…herself. Remy was just the obvious choice. Maybe she was being unfair, but nothing had been all that fair to her lately. She had to play nice when no one else was? Please spare her the tripe.

One thing she could lay at Remy's fault: he'd made her cry. Well, not directly him, but he was part of the situation. Rogue couldn't remember the last time she'd cried – her father's death, the first time Raven hurt her, and the time after that and after that. There was a time when she used to cry and whine a lot but couldn't remember when it stopped. Perhaps after she realized that no one really cared. No one was going to hold her and tell her everything was all right.

But Remy had. She'd bawled like a baby, and he'd comforted her, murmuring words into her hair that she couldn't remember. She thought that he may even have planted a kiss up there somewhere. All of that had just made her cry even more. She'd been vulnerable, more so than she'd allowed in years. In that time, a few cracks had been made in her walls; even more than before. And for all of that, he had her irrational anger.

She'd experienced enough emotional outbursts in the past few hours, thank you very much. She had not the slightest intention on doing anything but let it smolder. It would stay that way, too, until it faded, or she released it on the next unlucky dupe fool enough to attract her ire.

He clearly noticed her displeasure with him and everything but wisely did not comment. Perhaps he figured out that a part of her anger came from the embarrassment that not only had she'd cried, not only in front of him, but on him. And he'd stood there and let her.

And maybe later, she would be touched with how sweet of him that was, and that he wasn't making a big fuss out of it, that he was giving her as much space as he could. Maybe later, she'd realize there had been a definite shift in their unsteady relationship to something else entirely.

Maybe she already knew and just didn't want to acknowledge the change.

Right now though, she'd focus on being angry and recovering some dignity. It helped keep her moving anyway. Away from back there and their new friend with samurai swords and guns. If he did manage to catch them, she had little doubt they'd actually be able to get away again, at least not very far. They'd gotten lucky with…whatever that thing was. She'd been a little busy fearing that Remy was about to be killed in front of her to really notice. If he found them again, Wilson probably end up killing them because Rogue sure wasn't going back easy. She halfway hoped he did kill her, if it kept her from going back.

But she was interrupted from such lovely thoughts at the very faint but still distinguishable sound of wheels crunching the dry dirt path underfoot. And the fact that Remy suddenly grabbed her arm and dragged her to the side of the road out of sight wasn't helping her concentration.

"What do you think you're doing?" She hissed at him, silver eyes flashing.

He lifted a finger to his lips in a shushing motion and to her great surprise, crouched down and grasped the hem of her dress. Before she knew what he was doing, Remy proceeded to rip a jagged line up the already damaged silken material. As she watched the tear grow further up to her hip, her eyes became increasingly wider while her voice shot up a few octaves.


"Hush, Chere," He suddenly stopped in his motions and looked back up at her, his work done. "We need a ride."

"And just how are we supposed to do- oh, no!" Her eyes now warred between unmistakable rage and horror. "Uh-uh. No, wrong! I am not going out there like this, Remy LeBeau!"

"Desole, Chere, but we might miss our only opportunity to get away from that maniac back there," he shot her that self-satisfied, lazy smirk of his as he stood and her heart most certainly did not flutter, "And I need a distraction."

His reasoning was questionable, and his methods were excessive, to say the least. The mischief in his eyes didn't help his case either. Madman on their trail or no, that didn't stop her eyes from narrowing, and her retort that rested on just the edge of her lips. Until he suddenly seized her shoulders, spun her around, and with a whispered 'Bonne chance, chere', shoved her out there just as a carriage came around the bend in the road.

"Remy!" She hissed back trying to look over her shoulder while still keeping the approaching carriage and cloaked driver coming towards her in sight. Too late though. He was gone, and instead all she caught was a glimmer of a shadow that darted up a tree overhanging the road. She looked up finally to find his glowing orbs for eyes watching her with avid amusement as she glared back at him. His only reply was to wink and mouth out, "Have fun."

Oh, she was going to have fun alright. She was going to have a ton of fun plotting his murder and where she was going to hide the body. That would have to wait though.


As the black horse-drawn carriage came steadily closer, she had even less of a clue of what exactly she was supposed to do. Stick her leg out? Faint? Scream? Actually, she felt like throwing a full blown tantrum, but still had too much dignity to give in to such childish actions.

And okay, yes, she'd handled Taylor before, but all she'd had to do was get close enough to touch him. It'd also been life or death, specifically at that moment. Her mind simply didn't register it priority so did nothing as far as planning. Not that she'd planned then; that had been completely spur of the moment. Something she needed to do now.

The figure on the carriage had the hood of the cloak fully drawn up, covering any features. It stopped well shy of Remy's tree. With little hope of this half-baked plan working, Rogue called out to the hooded figure. Yet, she was cut off before she could even open her mouth.

"You might as well call your friend down before he breaks his fool neck."

Rogue startled at hearing a feminine voice from the perch on the carriage and heard Remy curse under his breath. A moment later, he emerged from the shadowed forest with an almost apologetic smile and rubbing the back of his neck.

"Sorry 'bout that."

Rogue merely groaned and pressed her fingers to the bridge of her nose. She could feel the headache coming on.

The woman dropped back the hood of her dark cloak. Charcoal black hair spilled down past her shoulders. She spread the cloak away on one side, and a glint of silver flashed from the folds of a ruby cotton dress, her fingers, her earlobes, and around her throat. The first was undoubtedly weaponry, the rest jewelry. Her lips are painted red, and her eyes are lined in black. She glared at them impassively, taking in the filthy black suit and ripped formal dress.

She tilted her head to the side as a door on the carriage opened.

"I insist you get back inside," the scarlet-robed woman said.

"Are there guns?" a man called from the vehicle.

Remy blinked, surprised that he recognized the voice then he grinned.

"Still afraid of guns, are you?" Remy called out.

The man stepped fully out and down, and bright, dark eyes assessed them. Average height, middle aged, and blond curls, as soon as he spotted Remy, a delighted grin lit up his face.

"Well, as I live and breathe…"

He purposefully shut the door and walked toward them. His fine suit of gray bespoke of a gentleman's status, and he didn't seem the least bit a threat. Even so, Rogue found herself taking a marginal step back.

Remy met him halfway. They grasped forearms and hugged briefly.

"Remy Lebeau! Of all the people to meet wandering around the woods, I would meet you."

"Yeah, wonderful how that works. It's been what? Six years?"

The blond man gave a low whistle.

"Time flies."

They kept talking, babbling on about things Rogue couldn't keep up with. Wasn't she supposed to be bait or something a minute ago? Now Remy was standing there, chatting away like she had the patience for it. As Rogue stood behind them with a not so pleasant draft running up her skirt, her gaze went to the other woman who wore the expression of a woman who has endured much and was very close to going over the brink and hurting someone. Despite the distance that already separated them, Rogue held the ripped skirt together as well as she could and took another step back and a little more behind Remy.

All of this movement drew their attention to the irritated woman with a ripped gown and a dark glare. It was almost comical how quickly the smile on Remy's face went from pleasantly surprised to nervously placating.

"Chere," he laughed a little anxiously, "may I introduce my old ami Patrick Jane, formerly of California. Patrick, I present Mademoiselle Rogue."

"Pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss Rogue," he bowed his head congenially, eyes flashing with amusement.

Not really wanting to, but also unable to go against her upbringing, she returned the gesture and said,

"Likewise, Mr. Jane, though the 'Miss' is an unnecessary title, all things considered," she waved a hand through the air, indicating the entire setting.

"In that case, it's Patrick to you, and that" he waved to the woman, "is Wanda Maximoff. You may call her Wanda or Maxi."

"No, she may not," Wanda objected and looked at Remy and Rogue carefully. "Would either of you know anything about the married couple that blew a hole in the Mahoney Place?"

Remy arched a brow and sent a glance Rogue's way then shrugged.

"Well, I'm pretty sure they ain't married."

Patrick Jane grinned in a perfectly amused way at that answer. Rogue found him somewhat odd for a reason she couldn't name. Something seemed unusual but her own experience with people outside of her 'family' was limited to going into town for foodstuffs and the occasional house guest. And of course Isaac.

She didn't think this man had anything in common with Isaac though.

"Girlfriend?" Jane asked, not so much helpfully.

"Oh, no!" Rogue objected a little too quickly.

Remy looked at her, actually affronted.

"'Oh, no?' Why ya gotta say it like that?"

"Like what? I was just sayin' no; he got it wrong."

"But you said it like it would be a bad thing to be my girlfriend!"

Rogue pursed her lips, crossed her arms, and looked him up and down. Remy felt his eyes go wide.

"Um, hello?"

The two turned to the nearly forgotten Mr. Jane. He pointed to them.

"Relationship troubles?"

"Oh, no," Remy mocked. "No, we're not in a relationship, right, Roguey?"

"Well, we're not," she insisted hotly, "We're just two people who met in a coincidental circumstance with events following that keep us together. That's not really a relationship, is it?"

Remy made an effort to keep his tone casual, but a little hope tinged his voice.

"Well, it could."

Rogue looked at him again with an infuriatingly neutral look.

"Excuse me, as much as I hate to interrupt this lover's spat," Jane said, drawing their attention and Rogue's ire.

"We are not lovers!"

"Stop saying it like it's a terrible thing!"

Rogue opened her mouth to respond to that, but nothing came out.

"Pardon, slip of the tongue," Jane apologized half-heartedly.


Patrick looked like he was just holding back laughter, quickly pursing his lips and clearing his throat.

"Anyway, I was wondering if we could continue this discussion in the carriage. Wanda worked out a schedule, and she really doesn't like deviations."

"You're offering us a ride?" Rogue asked, not sure if she really wanted to accept.

On one hand, it was better than walking. On the other, she wasn't sure if she trusted this Mr. Jane. Unlike Remy, she felt no inclination to keep close to this man. Somewhere in the center of that was the fact that she trusted Remy.

"Of course," Patrick replied. "As if I'd leave Remy and his friend who happens to be a girl in the middle of the road. I'd never be able to face Tante again for leaving her petite, garcon bebe."

"Shut up. Gimme un minute."

Remy stepped back, beckoning Rogue to follow with a flick of his wrist. She followed him some little distance away. Obvious to him and probably his perceptive friend, she was still a little upset about…before. He really had no desire to have her yelling and crying again so he decided to take heed to some of what she'd said.

"What do you think?"

"Oh. You're askin' my opinion now?"

Contrary woman…That's only what she'd been raving about earlier.


He said it in patient yet tired tone. It instantly made her feel guilty. Remy was on her side, and she shouldn't give him a hard time. She didn't really like the idea of it anyway.

Although he had ripped her dress for what was now apparently no reason. But he was the one who bought it in the first place, so she supposed she had no call to upset and decided to just let it go.

…But she was the one who had to wear it.

So she swept one of her many loose curls behind her ear and mumbled, "Sorry."

"Rough day?"

It was a poor joke, but it managed to get a small smile from her nonetheless.

"Something like. You did say we need a ride," Rogue murmured, "and I'm also not looking forward to traipsing through the woods, flashing the wild life every step." She fingered the rip Remy had made earlier.

With his gaze set on the pale bit of skin showing between the folds, Remy bowed his head and said, "Je suis desole, ma cherie," he dragged his gaze up from her leg slowly up to her eyes, "Forgive me?"

It never failed to fascinate him the way her cheeks colored when she blushed.

"Yes. Of course."

He smiled and took her hand.

"Bon. Your carriage awaits, my lady."

Remy glanced away from Rogue back to the carriage. It seemed the two were having a whisper-shouted argument. Jane was very calm yet insistent, counting off a series of facts on his hand. Maximoff looked very much like she wanted to leap off of her seat and strangle her employer. She spoke to him, and though specific words were lost to them, they clear heard her frustration. Jane just smiled pleasantly when she was done, and Maximoff scowled her distaste.

Remy offered his hand, and Rogue took it without hesitation, pleasing him somewhat. He led her back to Patrick who had climbed up to the seat next to Wanda, and seemed to be trying to tease a smile out of her. It looked as if he was succeeding more in getting popped upside his head, but he managed to duck in time.

"Patrick! Stop aggravatin' the woman, and let's go."

Patrick slipped down and away from Wanda's second hit, mischief lighting up his eyes. Wanda snapped her fingers, and a blue spark streaked from her hand to the back of Patrick's head. Laughing like an unrepentant school boy, he all but ran to get inside the carriage, diving in front of Remy as he was handing Rogue in.

Remy shook his head, "And I'd so hoped Teresa woulda calmed you down."

Patrick poked his head out the door, "Funny you should say that. I'm actually on my way to see her at her brother's house."

"Her brother hates you."

"Which is why she went to her brother."

"Sounds like you are the one with relationship troubles, Patrick," Rogue quipped.

Patrick titled his head and smiled at her, looking at her as if reassessing every conclusion he'd come to about her. He extended his hand, and Rogue looked at it a moment before accepting it, allowing him to pull her inside. She settled across from him, and Remy climbed in after.

"I'm certain you and I will get along very well, Rogue."

As soon as the door closed, Wanda snapped the reigns, and the horses trotted off. She didn't like this and said as much to Patrick. Of course he didn't listen to her. But when things blew up in her face, she was going to say I told you so, and she was going to say it a lot.


After waving goodbye to the bubbly seamstress, Deadpool rifled through the left behinds. All cash was shoved into various pockets, along with a rather fancy knife. There was nothing all that interesting to be found, although there were quite a few pillows lying about.

In fact, they were very fluffy. And this room was paid for and available for a while.

So he could head out now and drag his bounty back kicking and screaming, or he could order room service and have dinner in bed then sleep 'til noon.

Fried chicken sounded really right now.

And that's the revised version. So to excuse these infrequent updates, this was meant to be a side story, believe it or not. I'm still actually planning it, something that seems to impede my progress more than anything. I seem to do better with spur of the moment writing than following a plan. Weird.