Disclaimer: I trust there's nobody out there who actually thinks they're mine, or who thinks I actually think they're mine, 'cause that just doesn't bode well for anyone's mental stability….

A/N: Yup, hi, I'm back! Haven't slipped off the face of the earth, haven't died, just have been insanely busy on all my past weekends and have been writing this chapter piece-meal rather than straight, which is super annoying and super difficult, particularly since in my head, the plot is skipping along and my typing fingers need to catch up…plus my parents keep kicking me off the computer…. but I promise, I'll be better, especially with school coming to a close(!). Expect another chapter soon, especially as I fear this one will disappoint… it's very talky. But I needed it, for foreshadowing and to build up to some stuff I've got coming, and, I suppose, for character development if that wasn't a complete bust. But it went in…. odd directions. It was kinda annoying, 'cause I'd just written a transition chapter… and then I realized I needed another one.  Oh, and plus, I needed to play around with some new characters- yeah, I know I've been throwing a lot of people at you, but presumably most folk know 'em all… if you don't (that means you, Tim- for anybody else reading this, that's my cousin), ask. But really, don't trouble yourself too much figuring out who's where and why they're important (well, unless you wanted to, for some reason)- 'cause it'll become plain very quickly which characters'll be important. Some (Bobby, Logan) are probably already quite obvious. Besides Rogue and Remy, there should be 7 X-Men of importance throughout the story, though three you haven't really run into yet- all but one have been hinted at, at least. I'm not terribly subtle. I'm having fun reorganizing the Marvel Universe for my own twisted purposes, though, so there'll probably be lots of cameos.

Oh, and there are a couple of characters in here who, not being super familiar with but who I wanted to use, I spent a lot of time trying to get down- but I still feel uncertain on some- if you think I'm off, tell me how and in what way so I can fix it before other readers get to it and also notice the mistake, please!... I'm kinda uncertain about elements in this chapter…

But anyway, read on, and my review response is stuck at the end of the chapter, anyways- thanks to all my reviewers, and hey, if you happen to be reading this and not reviewing (which I have done in my pre- own-Internet days, so it'd serve me right, a little review just saying 'keep writing' or something to that effect really means a lot more than you'd think…. sticks out wobbling lower lip and waits for guilt to overcome anyone reading in silence… Anyway, here you go!

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Studiously, he examined his hands. He flexed each finger in turn as he eyed them intently, slowly picking up speed until they became nothing more than a tanned blur. Stopping, he held his palms flat out and stretched them out as a cat would flex his paws. Pulling them back in a smooth motion, he winced at the pain. A scowl flashed across his shadowed features.

Carefully, he turned on the water in the library's bathroom, letting the cold water run over his heat-seared palms. Across the middle of each ran a thick bar of crimson red from where he'd grabbed his bo staff out of the fire. As the freezing fluid coursed over his warm hands, Remy rubbed the pads of his fingertips. The whorls and swirls were etched with soot which stood out only slightly from his tanned hands in the unlit room. The power seemed to still be out and the flurry of perpetual snowfall and gray clouds kept the dawn's pink rays completely at bay. He continued to twiddle his lean fingers under the water, pausing to scrape some dirt out from the edges of his nails, cut to the quick. Pushing some soap into his hands, he hardly blinked his dark eyes as it stung the small cuts across his hands. A miniscule red scrape earned through carelessness in tossing a card burned fiercely on the side of his middle finger. It seemed as if he could feel his pulse throbbing through the cut. At the moment, it was annoying him more than all his bruises and considerably larger scrapes- at least, he was allowing it to distract him and it seemed to be working thus far. Turning the smooth metal faucet off, he yanked a paper towel out. Gently, he patted down his calloused hands. The raised, rough marks of experience marred his fingertips and the very crest of his palm. Remy could not call to mind a time when they had been soft. He'd been a thief for a long time.

Not nearly long enough, of course. He intended to be around to perfect his craft for a good long time.

Shaking his head, he blew the last droplets of water clinging to his hands off and turned to his reflection. Running a palm across the faint stubble on his jaw, he paused as he reached his chin and tugged it to the left experimentally.

His features had always seemed a tad too long to himself, his nose an edge too sharp at the top and too broad at the base. Blinking, he scraped his rough palms against his face, rubbing a little color into it and the sleepy edge out. No need to look as dead as Rogue. He grinned at his reflection, lean edges mixed with a boyish curve here and there. It turned to a smirk as he wiped a touch of blood off the side of his slightly split lip. "Remy, y' are one han'some devil," he told himself nonchalantly with a tilt to his head. The red of his eyes flashed in the dark. It was undeniable. He was far from perfect, but his features came close.

Rogue, he suspected, was attracted to him. It was rare a woman wasn't. It'd make everything easier if she'd just go weak in the knees and stammer like most did. He suspected it would be a problem that, like Belle, she didn't. And he liked that. He wasn't crazy about having her around for the time being, but her presence was proving useful… even if she did bring more trouble than she was worth. He shook his head. He didn't know how to handle a young girl who was hurting in more ways than one, particularly when he had ends of his own to concern himself with.

He'd been helping her, really. It bothered him that he'd thus far managed to be the good guy. Things didn't end well when he tried to play hero. Yet for all that he'd been doing for her…she didn't trust him. He felt pretty sure most of her crucial cards lay on the table now, but she jealously guarded every little thing, keeping her small secrets close to her chest. Her name. Her thoughts. Her feelings. All the details women usually eagerly poured into his half-listening ears were withheld. She was so inexperienced, naïve and out of her depth, and yet …naturally suspicious. Smart girl. She didn't trust him. By now, she should.

His smile turned down slightly, he started the water running again without really thinking about it. Humming a slow tune absent-mindedly, he cupped cool water in his hands and allowed it to run over the rivulets of his warm palms before splashing it over his stubbly cheeks. He repeated the motion, thinking silently and not noticing the dark drops of water landing on the lapels of his trench coat.

He might have been going about this the wrong way. Because of her relative youth, hostility, and untouchable skin, he hadn't been treating her in any way he'd ever acted towards a girl. Actually, that was untrue, he reflected. Remy, considering his behavior around Rogue, found it closest to the way he'd treated his girl cousins- who hadn't been his blood cousins, really, but nevertheless were treated as such. It was the unconscious teasing mingled with his familiar mixture of empathy and callousness and the continual reminder they were off-limits that struck a chord with the present situation. Such a course couldn't be the right one to take with Rogue. Not if he wanted her trust and cooperation by the time they reached Quebec. He'd need her then.

He drummed his fingers against the porcelain sink. The answer was obvious. He'd have to be… "charmin'," he muttered, with a pleased glance at the book Rogue had been reading the night before and which he'd skimmed after settling her sleeping form in a few chairs. It was easy enough to tell from that what kind of chivalry would send her into fits of blushes and swoons….

It was probably the juxtaposition of Rogue and swooning that sent him back to some measure of reality. He needed her trust, not her falling over her feet trying to impress him, which she would undoubtedly do if he turned the full force of his charm on her. If he said jump, it would do no more good for her to say 'how high?' than it would for her to put her hands on her hips and demand brazenly 'why?' With their lives on the line, she'd have to simply jump when he said. Which brought him back around the circle to trust. Which meant flattery would no more avail him than insults.

His eyebrows furrowed in consideration. He was not a trustworthy person. Even women who confessed the stories of their life to his handsome face probably saw as much.

To have her trust him, he'd have to be… he'd have to be…. Remy grimaced… nicer. Last night was probably a good start… well, the part after he dragged her to a bar and got drunk. At least he hadn't gotten her drunk. Thinking of drinking, he switched the water back on, cupping some to his lips to drink as the soothing sound filled the silence of the small room again. Yet he'd have to not just ooze charm, but be… seem to be….he glanced at the ridiculous book Rogue'd been reading…. thoughtful. Warm, even. Kind. Wincing, he mentally added… sincere.

He was not going to be good at this.

He rubbed his forehead, struck by an increasing heat in the palms of his hands as he gripped the corners of the porcelain sink, feeling a bit sick. The unfamiliar feeling of… guilt… nagged at him again. He didn't notice the glow rising to shed light on his face. The problem with getting her to trust him was… it'd make it hurt worse for her later. Those who trusted him found it came back to bite them in the ass. He was such a….

…Gambit suddenly noticed that a pinkish glow from below was dousing his reflected features with warm light. Dark eyes widening at the sight of brightly twinkling porcelain sink, he dove away…

"Sonuvabitch!"

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Spoons clashed against each other in the carton, dueling for the last scoop of Panda Paws. Darting hands scrambled against each other, until one spoon jerkily pushed aside the others of its own accord. Having scooped up the last bit, the metal spoon arced back towards its owner's hands. The green-haired girl, looking at her companions with triumph, relished in the small bit of chocolate and peanut butter ice cream she'd grabbed.

"That was cheating," another girl commented sullenly, dragging her spoon hopefully against the sides of the cartons in an attempt to get the remainder.

A slim Asian girl with jet black hair and pert features turned away from the empty box, heading for the somewhat small walk-in freezer in the other room with a determined expression.

"Where you going?" the obtainer of the last bit of ice-cream called thickly but with some concern, mouth not only full but cold. She swallowed. "We're supposed to stay together- in one place and in one piece!" The slightest touch of panic was audible in her tone.

"Sheesh, just getting the rainbow sherbet!" the other shouted back, trying not to roll her eyes. "Don't have a cow, Lorna."

"You shouldn't go al-" the green-haired girl began to argue.

The other swiveled, finger wagging in a preemptive protest. "Nuh-uh! I'll die several deaths before walking around in a conga line again."

"A five-person buddy system is not a conga line," Lorna muttered. "What, you'll

risk death for, of all things, sherbet?"

The smaller girl shrugged as she exited. "If the world's all going to blazes, hey, man, I'd rather have spiffy pastel coldness in my mouth than not."

Lorna Dane scowled, absent-mindedly tossing her spoon from hand to hand. "I've asked her not to use phrases like man and dude every other second," she remarked with a tad of annoyance.

Another blonde with short hair and far too much blush, still licking the remnants she'd been scraping from her spoon, looked up in bemusement. "Sure, they're sexist, right, Kermie? We've got to start making Jubes saying dudette!"

"Don't let her hear you call her that," Lorna said, half-listening. Her head suddenly snapped up as the first sentence sunk in. "Don't call me anything, either."

A vivacious, strikingly pretty and skinny girl with flaxen hair and a yellow T-shirt with an unreadable scrawl apparently intended to be the name of a band frowned, pulling her guilty gaze away from the empty ice cream carton. "Sherbet…That'll probably be a little bit better for my diet, right?" She plainly hadn't been listening to a word they were saying, the reason plain as she pulled out small iPod headphones.

The girl wearing a little too much make-up glanced over. "What? Two slices of chocolate cake, your share of the ice cream, and- whoops, almost forgot, those leftover slices of pizza… huh, think there's still a little sauce on your face…"

"Tabby," the final girl in the room scolded quietly, noticing the cheeks of the girl addressed growing dangerously pink. She ran a tanned hand through her dark hair, casting a nervous glance at the windows, sealed with metal defenses, and then at the clock. "Shouldn't Miss Tessa be back by now?"

Tabby appeared to consider this, tilting her head and toying with the flipped-up ends of her hair. She blinked her blue eyes innocently. "Well, you think we'd at least have heard a scream. Or a loud crunching noise."

The brunette who had asked the question wrinkled her nose. "I don't think Sage would scream."

"I doubt she can scream," Lorna muttered, drumming her fingernails, painted green, against the counter. "She's so…"
"Frigid? Glacial? Calculating? Haughty?" Tabby offered casually, still turning the spoon about in her mouth. Looking up, she noticed their expressions of surprise. "Hey, I know big words," she said defensively, pulling the spoon out and let it clang on the table.

"She's more austere," the dark-haired one concluded in her soft voice, twiddling the spoon in her fingers.

Tabby looked at her friend calmly, her carefully plucked eyebrows raising slightly. She shrugged and grinned. "Got me there, 'Mara. I hope it means something nasty."

"It means stern," Amara answered readily.

The head of the girl who had exited popped around the corner. "Guys, the hinges are frozen solid," she commented mildly, cinching the belt on her yellow raincoat as she walked in. "The stupid spit-shined steel door won't budge a smidge."

"Blow it up," Tabby suggested.

The girl held up her hands. "Hey, I want more ice cream as much as anyone, but hello? We've got a bunch of enormous tin-cans standing on the front lawn who'll blow us all to kingdom come the moment any of us do anything. Come to think, we're kinda lucky that Lorna's little spoon trick didn't end up with us in a kazillion little pieces." She thought about this, adjusting the pink sunglasses she wore pushed up onto her forehead. "That might top the list of lamest ways to die." Her lips twitched upwards. "It'd definitely give new meaning to screaming for ice cream…"

"Ugh, Jubilee, that's scary," the blonde worrying about her diet reproached, turning accusingly to the girl with the extremely noticeable thick and wavy green hair. She gestured with her hands. "We were this close to dying. Lorna! You could've killed us just because you had to hog the last bit!"

"Oh, c'mon, don't exaggerate, Alison. It was just a little bit of magnetism!" Lorna protested. "I doubt those Sentinel things even noticed," she added, trying to reassure herself more than the other girls.

"So… no ice cream?" Amara concluded a little sadly, her dark eyes looking downcast.

"Enh. We'll live," Tabby decided, looking about for her headphones and CD player.

"Actually, that's somewhat uncertain," Lorna reminded her. She sighed, turning to refill her glass of milk. "It was a very good distraction, though."

Jubilee looked at them with disappointment, clapping her hand to her face. "Man oh man, do you all give up easily! Tabby, what'd you do with the thing-a-ma-jiggers we took off the thief? He had all kinds of stuff for breaking down over-priced doors."

Her gloss-lined lips turned up at the edges at the thought. "Hmm. Gave 'em to Dazzle there, now didn't I?"

"Dazzler," Allison corrected, looking annoyed. "Dazzle is what I do, Dazzler is who I am. And you didn't give me a thing, Tabitha."

Tabby ignored the girl's purposeful attempt to bait her and shrugged. "Maybe I gave them to Sally, then. She's got the same Barbie doll look."

Lorna choked on her milk, trying desperately to swallow it and not let her laughter dispose of it otherwise.

"You're one to talk," Alison countered, offended. "You're more Barbie than me."

Tabby looked between the laughing Lorna and the other girl. Her blue eyes narrowed as her chair slid back slightly. "Meaning what, pop star?"

"Sure, I've got the hair-and my blonde happens to be natural- and eyes, but at least I don't have the disposition."

"Ex-cuse me?"

Dazzler twiddled with the tiny diamond nose stud which her mother would murder her over next break, assuming she lived that long. "Let me spell it out for you: S-L-"

Tabby began to lunge at her before Jubilee slid between the two of them. Her choppy black hair, gathered into a defiant high ponytail that wasn't really holding the frayed strands, fell into her face. Her look of disgust increased manifold. "Chill, won't you! Jeez, you're, what, gonna murder each other over who looks more like a Mattel doll?"

"We've got bigger problems," Lorna said loftily.

Tabby shot a glare at her. "Don't go all high and mighty on us, Dane," using the other girl's last name in her easy-going, yet mocking and cutting. "Take a Barbie some junior yuppie left in the wash with a green shirt, and I think you'd stack up real nice."

Lorna's eyes blazed dangerously.

Amara winced. "That wasn't called for," she said quietly to Tabitha Smith, whose cheeks were flushed even pinker than usual in her annoyance. "You know she's sensitive about the hair."

"I did not just hear you compare me to the unrealistic plastic stereotype from which springs the stupid male fantasies that contribute to ruining the mind of all teen-"

Jubilee blew the straggly ponytail of her shortened hair out of her eyes and began looking around the room for a spot Tabby would have been likely to stick the thief's supplies in while she loudly interrupted. "I hafta tell ya, this conversation could probably qualify you all as Looney Tunes." She considered, then added, "I call the Tasmanian Devil!"

"Nobody asked you to open your big mouth, Jubes," Tabby interjected quickly, turning back to Lorna with something of a sneer. "Go on, I wanna hear all about how Barbie and Lara Croft and me are destroying civ-"

"That's motor-mouth, not big mouth," Jubilee corrected, ducking under the table to see if the belt and bag could have been set there. "My mouth is quite cutely sized, thank you. I'm very happy with it. Face it, I hit the mother lode of mouth widths."

Tabby grinned, her own mouth parting for a remark that would certainly cause trouble, but Amara managed to stomp quickly on her foot. Tabby, scowling, turned her attention on the quiet girl. "Oww… there's no need to hurt me. Just 'cause it's not easy for Lorna to be green-"

"Only the hair!" the girl in question hissed.

"-and as to the Barbie thing-"

Jubilee, with a musing expression, pulled herself out from under the table and quickly slung her light frame onto the countertop. Perched there, she interjected, "You know, come to think, a Barbie doll's got to be a better role model than Miss Frost. More realistic expectations and all. Leaving aside the dose of evil, of course."

"Miss Frost's not that b-"

"Meant the Barbie. Though," Jubilee considered, looking thoughtful, "

A rumbling noise from outside distracted them from the ensuing debate. As a group, they all jumped, lifting a good few inches off their chairs. They froze, as motionless as the clock on the last day of school, not daring to move a muscle until it became plain no further sound was to follow. Whether this was good or bad, they could not tell.

Amara was the first to draw breath again. "Winnie the Pooh," she muttered.

Tabby blinked, looking over. "Say what?"

The darker girl flushed. "Y'know, when the loud scary sounds always turn out to be the rumbling in his tumbly- ah, stomach," she corrected, ducking her head and letting her dark hair fall like a sheet across it. "Everything turns out to be okay…"

"Machines don't eat human," Jubilee offered brightly, out of the blue. She paused at the looks they gave her. "What? Hey, sue me for being an optimist and pointing out small mercies. And don't anybody go wishing too hard to be chased by Pooh Bear instead of walking death machines, seeing as we don't want some kinda Staypuft Marshmallow Man fiasco." Again, she got blank stares. "I give, I give," she grumbled. "Somebody on high's got something major against me to stick me in a house where I get handed the telephone for saying 'who ya gonna call?'"

Under her breath, Ali began to sing "House of Pooh Corner." Her breaking into song being a relatively common occurrence, the tension broke and Tabby reached over to cuff her lightly on the back of the head in a way that plainly indicated 'knock-it-off'. Alison, glaring, increased the volume.

Jubilee fumbled for a piece of gum from a pack left lying on the counter, sighing. "Now, back to the matter of the ice cream-"

"I thought we were on Barbies," Lorna said, lost in thought and slightly shaken.

Alison, abruptly shifting keys and songs, got as far as, "I'm a B-" before Tabby firmly clamped a hand over her mouth. Lorna, not so gently, pulled the two apart as the muffled girl reached to dig her sculpted fingernails into Tabby's hands.

Jubilee held up her hands. "Jeez, and people tell me I'm dippy," she muttered before demanding loudly, "Look, did ya give the guy's stuff to Sally or not, Tabs?"

It took the girl a considerable moment to remember the origin of their topic. Then she jerked her thumb at Alison. "I swear I gave it to Glitzy here."

"When?" Dazzler demanded, exasperated and disbelieving.

Tabby considered. "Yesterday. When Jubes was roller-blading down the stairs."

Alison scowled. "I suppose you can see, then, how I might have been distrac-"

There was the faintest sound of what might have been a cough or a laugh.

The girls turned, almost as one, towards the entrance to the other end of the kitchen.

"Hello?" Amara called, stepping forward slightly.

"That sounded like a guy," Lorna hissed.

Tabby perked up. "I've almost forgotten what a guy sounds like," she said cheerfully.

"Better not be another of Alison's stalkers," Jubilee commented with a groan.Alison blinked innocently. "Hope he's cuter than the last one…"

"Hope it's Gambit," Tabby muttered with relish

Lorna, standing in front of the others and also peering at the doorway, spread her arms out as a precaution to hold her classmates back. Jubilee ducked straight under, tiptoeing forward. Her foot bumped against a chair, which skidded slightly with a moaning sound. Soft footsteps began to quickly patter away

"Sshhhh," Amara said, too late, holding her finger to her lips as she tried to listen to the footsteps. She turned, shaking her head. "None of us walk that loud. Not even Jean when she's throwing a fit or-"

The faint sound of metal hinges creaking could be heard.

"Run!" Jubilee urged at last, lunging forward but turning to snag Lorna's collar as she headed in the wrong direction. "Towards the sound, towards it!"

Charging as one little sprinting herd, they headed around the corner.

Bobby Drake eased the door shut behind him, panicked. He should not have left the freezer. For that matter, he now realized, he shouldn't have frozen the door, but since he'd been hiding among the sherbets and fat-free yogurts, he'd become understandably panicked. Then his curiosity had simply gotten the better of him. Now he was too frightened to attempt freezing the door again, in case one of those Sentinels came bursting through the wall after him. If he'd know there'd be several surrounding this place in a matter of hours- which, he supposed, in some corner of his mind he had, but he'd figured safety in numbers was his best bet- he wouldn't have gone to all that trouble of freezing security cameras and sneaking inside. Now what was he going to do? he wondered pathetically, listening to them come closer. If they'd hurt Gambit, who'd shown himself against Sabretooth to be a fighter extraordinaire, what on God's green earth would they do to him? He considered praying, but deciding there wasn't time, looked around instead. His ice blue eyes lit up. Bingo!

The girls reached the larger area of the kitchen. Finding it empty, their gaze and steps turned toward the steel door of the freezer, built into the wall. Lorna, hesitantly, reached for it. Her hands closed on the latch, tugging it slightly. It responded to her pull, edging the slightest bit open. The green-haired girl turned to Jubilee. "I think you just weren't pulling hard enough," she offered.

The other girl narrowed her eyes. "No way. I'm telling ya, it was frosted over before."

"Frosted over," Lorna repeated noncommittally.

"At the edges," Jubilee insisted, ignoring the skeptical looks. "Honest!"

Amara nodded, looking thoughtful, while Tabby folded her arms impatiently. "Open it already, greenie," she said, rolling her eyes.

Gritting her teeth but maintaining her cool, Lorna swung the door open.

Horrified, a boy about their age looked at them with widening eyes from his position clinging to a hook on the door with his feet pulled off of the ground. Seeing their stunned expressions, he gaped, but managed to slowly drop down. He stumbled, his light brown hair falling in scattered directions across his youthful features. "I, uh…," he tried valiantly, blinking rapidly. "I, uh…well... I….probably should have remembered the door didn't swing in," he muttered to himself. His hands shook slightly.

"Who're you!" Amara wondered, her own dark eyes going wide.

"I'm Iceman," he offered quickly, mouth quirking involuntarily into some approximation of the smile it always took on when a pretty girl spoke to him.

"Man?" Tabby drawled questioningly, looking him up and down skeptically.

He flushed crimson, his hands shaking slightly more. He didn't notice a slight edge of frost appearing on his palms. "Um…yes. Iceman."

"Not a stalker?" Alison asked, eyeing him.

"Uhhhh…no. Not… technically."

The girls exchanged glances at that, except Lorna, who was studying him intently, as if she recognized him. "Do I know you?" she asked him suspiciously.

He tried, failingly, not to look her up and down. "Boy, do I wish-" He cut off, managing a frightened little laugh at the expressions on their faces- particularly the girl in question.

Her green eyes suddenly widened. "You're the guy whose been trying to see into my room!" she hissed. "The one with the binoculars!"

"No!" Bobby protested, backing up into the freezer. "No, I most certainly have not!" He stopped, seeing her deadly expression. "I was just admiring the décor!"

Lorna put one hand on her hip, face severe. "I say we throw him to the Sentinels."

Bobby began to sputter and babble apologies, even as Jubilee's eyes twinkled. "Nah, we can do worse. I say we throw him to Tabby."

There was a slight pause, before Bobby managed in a very small voice, "What's a Tabby?"

"A garishly painted man-eating mutant with explosive capabilites confined to school grounds," Alison said in an utterly serious tone, not betraying herself with the slightest snicker.

"That's it!" Tabby snapped, her perpetual naughty grin vanished entirely. She held out her hand, and a small glowing ball of whitish light appeared. The rim around it flickered as the ball flashed shades more of yellow or gold.

"Gah!" Bobby shouted, assuming it was going to be thrown at him. Closing his eyes tightly in a pained expression and holding his hands out in front of his face, he shot ice at them. Because of his closed eyes, his aim was considerably off: instead, he managed to slick the ground beneath their feet, sending all the girls into trips, slides, and spins that inevitably led them to crash painfully on the floor.

Pride wounded, Dazzler, wincing at the pain in her posterior, rose to her feet unsteadily, skidding on the ice. "Just keep yelling," she muttered as Bobby began to vigorously swear, taking in the sound waves as he did. Her hands flickered with pulses of blinding light.

"Have you all forgotten the giant monster robots outside?" Jubilee shouted, waving her arms from her place on her arm. "They're ugly, they're enormous, they're purple or maybe more of a red, and they track mutant powers, in case somebody needed to remind ya!"

"Twerp's going to pay," Alison said flatly, raising her palms and shooting beams of prism-like lights towards Bobby. The boy ducked, spreading his hand and allowing a sheet of ice to form from it, creating an effective shield. The attack of light rebounded at Jubilee, who flattened herself against the icy floor and snapped her pink sunglasses down.

The force of the light rays sent her skidding back a bit, but the moment she'd raised her head, she noticed Tabby, behind her. "Ah, cripes!" Jubes shouted, ducking again as the spunky party girl flung small glowing balls from the tips of each finger on her right hand. They zoomed in the direction of both Iceman and Dazzler, making it impossible to tell which one they were intended to hit.

"Gaaaaaah!" Bobby repeated with more fervor, as one of Tabby's little bombs imploded against his small ice shield, shattering it even as he leaped away from it, while another carried on to hit a carton of ice cream, splattering it forward so that a little of the chocolate hit the boy's hair.

Dazzler repulsed the other three with her own light blasts, even as Tabby blew on her fingertips and said cheerfully, "Badda-bing, badda-boom."

One bounced towards Lorna, who quickly deflected it with a hand gesture sending a nearby spatula towards it. On impact, the small ball exploded, leaving a black-scorched spatula that fell to the ground. Amara tossed a plate in front of another, sending pieces of china over the room. The last bounced against the walls, rebounding back and forth in zig-zag directions with perpetually increasing speed. The eyes of most occupants in the room followed it.

Jubilee, struggling to her feet on the ice, was grumbling that she now knew how Sally, the friction-resistant Skids and their classmate, felt, and was paying no attention to the whole thing. She looked up, finally on her feet, to see through her rosy glasses Tabby's ball rebound off the fridge door as Bobby swiveled it around to protect himself. It was heading straight towards her midsection. Immediately, she dropped, unable to get enough of a footing on the ice to dive away. She heard it explode somewhere over her head, and breathed a sigh of relief. Suddenly she was struck by a horrible and all too familiar feeling. Ignoring the Iceman shooting blasts of ice at Tabby, she reached up to find that the upper half of her attempt at a high ponytail had been sheared off and that the ends were yet again, scorched. She grabbed at them with her bare hand, making sure they weren't aflame and likewise quenching the hair beginning to burn with an air-depriving squeeze. Furiously, she tugged the hair tie out, casting it on the ground. She grabbed at her short hair. This was the fifth time since she'd come here, with her straight dark hair past her shoulder! "The third time this month!" she said angrily and aloud, drawing attention. Bobby, unwisely, chose this moment to attempt an ice blast at Dazzler, who was standing close to Jubilee. It came far too close to the latter, unfortunately for him. "You blockheaded, boorish, sorry excuse for even an orange Freeze-Pop!" she said menacingly, pushing up the sleeves of the raincoat. "You're a god-damn menace and probably a pervert, and should we end up smears on the walls, it's entirely your fault but be happy that I won't get to take my revenge in the afterlife, 'cause your abject idiocy would hurt the rep of heaven or hell!"

"Hey!" he protested indignantly, fumbling for an insult. "At least- at least I'm not wearing a rain coat indoors, and it's more your friends' fault than mine, and, uh-" He cut off at the scary look on her face. For some reason, he was oddly reminded of Rogue… except with hair that happened to be smoking and a far wickeder glint in the eyes. He gulped.

"Don't hassle me about the coat," Jubilee ordered, and looking around, noticed Lorna using her magnetic powers to send plates spinning at a rapid speed, apparently planning to fling them at Bobby's head. She adjusted her sunglasses. "I am so sick of being the voice of reason! To blazes with all of it! Heck, popsicle-boy," she said, holding her hands out as they began to sparkle with light, "to blazes with you too!"

Tabby grinned. "Always said you were my kind of girl, Jubes!" she yelled back, letting a crackling ball glow in her hand.

Alison clapped her hands together, letting multicolored streaks dance over her hand.

Bobby whimpered slightly as fireworks exploded from the girl's hands, dodging the plates that came far too close to his neck, and began seriously considering prayer. Surely, something from the heavens would come and stop this. As light of different varieties, sparkling fireworks, hazy blasts, and exploding balls plummeted towards him from girls who in other situations he'd have tried to get the numbers of, he held out his hands. Amazingly, a wall of ice spread quickly- though not quite quick enough. He turned his head to avoid the weakened streams of light that were refracted through, then looked up as he heard a slightly ominous sound that reminded him of popcorn kernels exploding in the microwave. He looked down and jumped. Dancing about, he dodged the tiny bouncing ball of light that would give new meaning to the term hot-foot. He ignored the cries from the girls on the other end, as Dazzler's light had apparently been reflected right into their unprotected eyes. Rather, he heaved a sigh of relief and peeked out from behind his safe little ice wall to where the students were clutching at their eyes and stumbling. Edging out at a rapidly increasing pace, he made a beeline towards the nearest exit.

"Gotcha," a voice said triumphantly, as a hand yanked on the back of his color. Bobby felt himself jerking back, straight over a leg extended to trip him, and found himself flat on his back looking up into a pair of dark eyes shaded by pink glasses. He groaned. If he had to die, he'd rather the green-haired one killed him. Trying to ice the floor, he jerked upright, only to take a brilliant blue flower of a firework in the chest and return to the floor.

Bobby, warily, looked up at her sparkling hands. "Ohpleasedon'thurtme," he babbled quickly, putting his hands together in the prayer motion. "Reallytheyellow'smostbecomingifyou'djust-"

"Oh, yeah, fear my mighty death-ray," the voice intoned.

"You've got a death ray! Ohgodohgod-"

"Dude, please don't start crying. This'll be difficult, but try to be a little less lame? Not like I hurt people on a regular basis. Though if somebody calls me a boy again," she yanked at her hair in annoyance and scowled deeply, "I will thrash you within a centimeter of your measly little life, comprende?"

He sat up, wincing at the sight of the blonde who threw the little balls that went boom hurling them blindly about in the direction she hoped he was in. "Uh… can you say the same thing about your friends? The thee-shall-not-cause-me-undue-pain bit? 'Cause I saw what you guys did to Gambit… that'd be the trench coat guy who tried to break in-"

"Remy? That slimy, pea-brained, scummy though nummy piece of work? If anyone needs their ass kicked, it's him," Jubilee said empathetically. "He's the textbook definition of a bastard… actually, I guess it's possible he does fit the definition-"

Bobby frowned, brown hair flopping about his features, his mouth dropping slightly. "Wait, you, uh, know him… how!"

A horrendously close and tremendously quick crunching noise consumed all else as thick metal boots shattered straight down, plummeting from several floors higher up to crunch right through the ceiling. A dark orange flame burning at their base, they slowed and began to lower at a rate that made the deep treads in the metal boots perfectly visible to the two still having some semblance of sight. Slowly, it landed, bringing the rest of the lacquered, darkly colored machine made in the semblance of a giant metal man. It extended its hand, a finger in itself the size of Bobby's head pointing at them. A circular metal device spun away in segments, leaving a small hollow in the fingertip with a menacing glow within. The other fingertips followed suit as they were mechanically raised in a motion that was, terrifyingly, more smooth than jerky. It aimed directly at them, stepping forward with clanking steps that sunk into the kitchen floor, even though its head remained in the hole in the ceiling. As it stepped forward, its neck ripped a tearing hole through the ceiling as easily as one would tear a seam.

Jubilee stumbled back, then jetted towards Lorna, who was stumbling about and cursing loudly as she attempted to avoid what was to her the hazy shadow of the metal figure. "Ohmanohmanohmanohman," she chanted, drawing breath only to bellow in the green-haired girl's direction, "Pol-arisssss!"

Bobby looked desperately at the cracking plaster overhead as the Sentinel stepped closer, ignoring everything in its way. He had asked for something from the sky to stop the fight… "That wasn't what I meant!" he bellowed to the world at large.

""""""""""""""""""""""""""""

The increasingly familiar noise of an explosion jolted Rogue straight upright from her carefully placed position curled up in the library's most comfortable chair- which was to say, not very comfortable at all. She threw off the trench coat tucked around her and rubbing clarity into her eyes, staggered upright, reaching for the nearest heavy book. "What in tarnation-" she snapped out loudly, voice filled with grumpiness and fatigue as she stopped to listen to the stream of French words that were probably blasphemous, as they stopped awfully abruptly when Remy heard the sound of her voice .

"'S'okay! 'M not seriously maimed or injured or dead! Which I hope yo'd consider a good t'ing! Jus' somet'ing o' a lil' plumbing mishap, chere, not'ing I can't manage! Uh… maybe go back t' bed or somet'ing!"

Rogue listened, fighting off a yawn. Yup, definitely the sound of streaming water. Rubbing her sore eyes, which she knew must be tremendously red, she set her jaw, even though Gambit had to currently hold the position of last person on earth she wanted to deal with right now. She bent to roll up her pant legs and stalked in the direction of his reassurances, which were punctuated by words she didn't know the meaning of but could make a damn good guess at.

Her hand settled firmly on the metal knob, and she steadied her recently awoken frame against it before turning. Swinging open the door and letting it bang against the wall, she looked at Remy, whose hands were firmly closed over a broken, curved pipe spluttering streams of water out in gushes that shot through the gaps in his grip. It was all that remained of what had probably once been the sink, and white ceramic shards were everywhere except in Gambit, though it was hard to tell as he was quickly becoming soaked. He looked somehow different minus his trench coat. He nodded at her, managing to look unabashed. "Dive on in, water's fine and dere ain't no gators, which is more den a body can say 'bout home."

"There some reason yah're managing to flood a building in the middle of a blizzard?" she asked, unsmiling.

"Hey, in yo' presence, chere, Gambit can definitely use more den one cold shower," he spouted back automatically, then realized instinctively he'd said the wrong thing, particularly when her face closed off rather than offering a sharp retort. She glared at him. Dieu, he knew she'd be mad. "'Course, might have been more intelligent to have simply run out into the snow, but den I never implied dat it's m' brain that's large-" Remy cut off, having the sudden impulse to slap himself silly at her cold expression that told him very plainly he was an idiot. Wincing, he looked at her with his most pitiful expression. "'Kay, so dis Cajun made de sink go boom. Didn't do it on purpose, see? But dat don't make it no less a disaster." He sighed pathetically. "Give a man a hand here, won't ya, chere?"

She nodded curtly, her eyes narrowed somewhat darkly. "Right. And yah're suggestin' ah do what, exactly?"

He frowned, straightening slightly, though his hands remained in front of the pipe spluttering vast amounts of water into the air, not managing to do much but deflect it in every direction. "Uh… maybe y' hold de water back, an' I try t' weld it shut wit'-"

"And yah think backing up the pressure even more so it can explode all over again is a good idea?" Rogue managed, shaking her head. She sighed, her locks dangling in front of her hooded eyes, masked further with purple circles underneath. She desperately hoped this was just a bad dream.

"What'm I supposed t' do?"

Rogue looked up at his expression, somewhere between earnest and exasperated. "Intelligent folk'd either call a professional or get the Sam Hill outta here."

He squinted at her through the water spraying onto his face, the red glint of his eyes visible nevertheless. "We snowed in, chere. Can't do nothing like dat. We gotta fix it."

"You broke the pipe!"

He looked down at the shattered remains of the sink. "Oui, I t'ink we can agree on that."

Her features reddening in frustration, she gestured with her hands. "Yah don't just fix things like that! Unless you happen to have some magic plumbing ability yah'd like ta share!"

He looked taken aback, resisting touching a hand to his rapidly dampening scarlet shirt in innocence. "Moi? Plumbing!"

Rogue studied him with narrowed eyes. "Shit," she said softly, her head turned slightly at an angle. Her mouth drew slightly open, almost scornfully, as her chin turned from left to right in disbelief. "You're rich!"

His dark eyes widened. "Uh- well- I- used t' be-"

"Now it all makes sense! Yah couldn't have always been, 'cause yah didn't seem to- but- shit! You were some fancy heir to a fortune who- no, 'cause you've been mentionin' relations- whose family had nothin' better to do than rip folk off for their valuables and fritter away the rest o' yah're time on women and drink-"

"I resent dat!" he said, looking offended. "Y' way off target there an'-"

"Oh, shut up and listen up," she said, annoyed, her hands crossing. "Let go of that thing, all yah'd accomplish is gettin' yah hands cut up. Seen any other sinks in this place?"

Instinctively, he'd backed away from the pipe, and looked up at her in confusion. "Dere's, uh, another bat'room in de back, an a lil' drinkin' fountain-"

"Good. Go turn on the water in the one and rig somethin' up so the faucet keeps runnin', all right?" she said in a business-like manner, kicking off her boots and yanking off her socks. Passing him without a glance as he headed out, Rogue tugged her pants cuffs up still higher and walked into the flooding bathroom cautiously. Her bare feet slapped down on the water-covered linoleum as she walked over to the toilet. Bending, she looked back and to the left of it, where an oval metal faucet a couple inches wide attached to the wall via a thick-bodied pipe and to the toilet by a thinner, twisting one. It had a rusting nail direct in the middle of it, and an all-but unreadable label etched into it. Cringing and hoping she was right, she turned it and listened to the gurgling sounds emerging from the plumbing of the toilet. Quickly, she splashed her way out, ducking the spouting pipe as best she could but still getting hit with cold water. It brought her fully awake.

"Utilities closet, utilities closet, maybe basement," she muttered to herself as she quickly paced the sides of the library, her eyes lighting up as they spied a door marked with the words she'd been muttering tucked away behind a further door of glass. Swinging it open, she jumped, letting out a faint exclamation of surprise, when Remy suddenly leaned out of a door inside the small divison.

He noticed he'd startled her. "The ot'er bathroom?" he reminded her, jerking his thumb in the direction he was departing.

"Oh," she said, blinking off her shock and managing a scowl. She reached for the door marked Utilities, only to find it locked. She closed her eyes in annoyance, turning to Gambit. "Could y-"

"My pleasure," he said smoothly, stepping forward and drawing out of his pocket, of all things, a bobby pin. He inserted it as easily as if it were a key, twiddled it around swiftly, and easily turned the knob as the door snapped open. "It's dark," he warned, trying the light in vain. "Power's still out, an' no win-"

"Ah'm not afraid of the dark," Rogue replied coolly, stepping in.

"Yeah, I figured, chere, but dat means y' need me." He tapped two fingers to the corner of his right eye. "See, I ate m' carrots as a chile…"

"Okay," she muttered, walking further inside. It was a large, square room, the dim glow from a furnace the only light besides the dim light from the doorway that bathed the entrance wanly. Their own wobbling shadows laid before them for the first few steps.

His hand, in a steering manner, fell instinctively on the small of her back. She stopped dead in her tracks, giving him a look she knew he could see.

He backed off. "What we looking fo'?" he asked politely.

She sighed, ticking things off on her gloved fingers. "The stop valve, the central heating system, any water heaters, the- whatever the hell shuts the electricity off-"

"Dat, I can do," he pronounced triumphantly. Rogue felt sure his face displayed inane pride with himself. "I'm a t'ief, I spent half my time knockin' out de power, an' de security systems- t'ough I suppose dat won't help… don't know nothin' 'bout de heat or de water, t'ough."

"The water heater comes about up to my chin, it's round, most houses got 'em… it's, uh, a cylinder-"

"In ot'er words, it looks like dis thing right here," said Gambit's voice from a bit ahead of her. A loud reverberating sound rang through the hall as he smacked it.

"Doubtlessly."

"What d'I do wit' it?"

"See the white twisty knob?" she asked apathetically. "Yah switch it t' off."

"Oh."

There was a slight creaking noise, and then a clearing of his throat.

"The water switches should be right around there too," she said, almost mock encouragingly. "And the heat."

"Uh… would dey also be marked wit' sides saying 'off'… which I might point out was turned t' de ot'er side and I had t' crane my neck t' de see it and was written in raised letters in white- making it very difficult to see in the dark," he added darkly, with a defensive edge.

"No, but they ought ta be labeled."

"My vision ain't all dat good in de dark, after all," he muttered, a faint noise suggesting he was running his experienced hands up and down the metal. Rogue waited patiently as a series of clicks took place, until with a slow groan, the light of the furnace died down till it was nothing more than a tiny pilot flame. That, too, flickered away.

"How about buckets?" Rogue asked.

There was a pause before Remy's bass voice replied. "I'll look."

"All right. I'd go see what I can do 'bout that water fountain, 'cause we gotta drain the water from the pipe as best we can now that we've shut everythin' off, and then we'll have to let what's left pour into the buckets-"

"I can take it from here," he said, his figure a darker shadow against the room, the red of his eyes the only color. "Why dontcha go rest or read or somet'ing…"

She bristled, her shoulder unconsciously squaring up. "Hey, Ah can bail as well as anybody, and Ah've handled problems with plumbing before-"

"Look, jus' meant it's my mess, I handle it, oui?"

"Oui, whatever," she muttered, throwing up her hands. "Don't want mah help, just say so… which ah guess yah did. Suppose Ah might as well get outta yah way. Just… argh, Gambit, you are one extremely annoying individual, yah know that?"

"I been made aware o' it on multiple occasions," he said dryly, bending to turn something else off.

Rubbing her hands over her face sleepily as she stalked away, Rogue pulled them away as the soft skin of her eyelids objected to the leather of her gloves, however soft. Re-crossing her arms, she sat back down on the chair, stopping to pick up the trench coat and fold it over a different chair. Her face flamed with fury. Oh, when he wanted to handle something himself, that was good and dandy, but if she wanted to be left alone, he couldn't comply. Damn him. He had to wake up at the worst possible moment. He had to wake her up with a minor disaster… which were becoming quite routine. Annoyed, she reached to the magazine-littered table next to her where she'd left the book she'd been reading the night before.

Her hand met only the glossy covers of magazines. Leaning over the chair, she peered onto the floor, her already mussed hair flopping downwards as she ended up upside-down to check under the chair for it. No luck. Straightening and getting up, she crouched down to look for it. Pushing off the carpet, Rogue rose with a suspicious look. Quickly, she turned to check the opposite table, where she'd left Destiny's diary.

It hadn't been moved a smidge, but several Latin dictionaries had been assembled near it. Rogue's dark green eyes narrowed till they were little more than slits. She wondered how long she'd been asleep.

Soft, barely there footsteps clicked from the direction she'd left. Swiftly, Rogue snagged a book from a nearby display and dropped into the chair. She opened it in front of her face, pulling her feet up with her.

A hand pulled the book down slightly, tugging it enough to see her face. Gambit held a bucket in one hand and her shoes, socks stuffed within, in the other. "Forgot t'ose," he said easily, setting them down on the floor. "So," he said conversationally, flopping into a nearby chair, which really wasn't designed to be flopped into, "I stuck a bucket under de pipe. No point in bailing, really, water damage already prob'ly done, an' hey, if de government has t' pay fo' it, less tax dollars t' be goin' towards killer robots, non?"

She stared fixedly at the book, trying to pay attention to the swimming letters. She fought off a yawn, the remainder of a late awakening after days of too-little sleep. She also felt sincerely bad for the librarian, but as she sunk back against the seat, didn't really feel like getting up and bailing just to defy Remy, anyways. Rogue didn't feel too friendly towards the government, anyhow.

He looked around, noticing the stack of dictionaries had been moved and finding his trench coat. He took the opportunity to move to the closer, more comfortable seat while snagging the coat from his new chair. "Didn't look at dat journal o' yours, so y' know. Suppose we could try t' puzzle it out later, maybe. 'M sure dat'd be de highlight of de day."

She looked up. "What happened to that book Ah was readin'?" she asked as if it didn't matter at all.

"It was on de sink."

She lowered the book, looking at his nonchalant expression blankly, then turned the page and fixed her gaze on it once more.

Rogue could feel her eyes on her before he spoke again. "Dey all died in de end, one way or anot'er. Oh, an' some ot'er poor sap got bitten, so dey all died fo' not'ing an' dere'll be a new werewolf anyhow. Tell me, what was supposed t' be attractive 'bout de guy who just grunted all de time?"

She didn't bother to respond.

"Oh, wait," Remy continued, as if he'd had a revelation. "He also made dat tender speech lastin' all o' four lines and de speech on 'why it's good t' die fo' good'. An' I suppose y' can count all de times he says her name… I don' t'ink I'd let my worse enemy wipe his ass wit' dat book." He paused. "Dis'd probably be when y' tell me dat's one o' favorite authors, oui?"

"Ah liked it," Rogue told him, surprisingly calm.

"It's written fo' people wit' shit fo' brains. An' Roguey, y' got a helluva lot goin' on up dere, I t'ink. I t'ink yo' lettin' de sappy dialogue get t' y', and dere ain't not'in wrong wit' bad dialogue when it comes wit' good special effects an' sarcasm, but dat book's jus' stupid. Not on de level o' stupid o' Romeo and Juliet, but-"

Rogue choked, coughing slightly as she grabbed a nearby magazine to throw at him.

"Oh, c'mon, dey were jus' stupid kids who found excuses t' knock t'emselves off!" he said, catching the magazine out of the air and thumbing through it to look at the girls in swimsuits. He looked up. "Belle t'ought it was romantic, too. T'ink it's a girl t'ing. She gave me a black eye when I laughed through the movie."

Rogue looked up. "Yeah, well, I laughed at parts of the one with diCaprio, too-"

"Nah, de old one."

She eyed him skeptically. "All through it?"

"Yup. Almost choked on de popcorn."

She shook her head. "You're so goin' ta hell," she said, both disbelievingly and teasingly.

"Oui. I know."

Rogue looked down at her book, lifting it as she tried once more to get through the first line.

Remy drummed his fingers on the chair, looking at the book, then at her. "So what is it y' wanna know 'bout me?"

She stopped, looking around the book at him with a gaze full of skepticism and confusion.

"Well, obviously yo' curious 'bout me," he said, gesturing to the book.

Rogue, wondering what the hell she was reading, flipped quickly to the cover. The Art of Chess was emblazoned on the jacket, with the picture of a game board and a pair playing. "Is everything always about you?" she wondered absently, before turning back to the book.

Remy paused, considering this. "Y' never played chess?"

She ignored him.

"Y' want to learn?" he persisted.

"No," Rogue managed politely, before looking back down.

He tilted his head at her, dampened hair falling into his eyes. "Yo' jus' holdin' a book 'tween me an' you fo' de sake o' havin' somet'in 'tween me an' you, aren't y'?"

She didn't bother to dignify that with a response. Boy, did she have a headache.

"A gambit's a chess move. A sacrifice," he said in explanation, "that helps y' get t' wear y' want t' be."

He waited for her response, and silence dragged on until, squirming inwardly, she looked up. "Thought cards is your game."

He grinned, ringing out the silk scarlet shirt absently in his hands. "Chess is mon pere's." He remained silent again, but though she was itching to know what he was getting at, this time she didn't take the bait. When she'd stayed silent for longer than he liked, Remy started up again. "Strategy. He made me play it 'gainst him, regular like. Till I was good. Ne'er as good as him, but better than Henri."

He waited for the question, but didn't get it. "Mon frere. Older. Better man den me." Again, he paused, giving her time, but continued without prompting. He shot her a cat's grin. "But I'm de better t'ief."

Rogue could tell he was leading to some point here, almost trying to tell her something, but she didn't know what. She didn't have a brother.

"Better den my cousins, too. But dey-"

"Which one's in Quebec?" Rogue interrupted, looking up to meet his eyes.

His gaze met hers unflinchingly. "Etienne. Yo'll like 'im."

"What makes yah think that?" she asked, slightly grumpily.

"Yo' liked Bobby right enough. T'ink a couple times less mature, multiplied by three and given all kinds o' stuff t' help 'em steal t'ings, an' y' get my cousins. Oh, and add in a dash o' me. So maybe yo' wouldn't like 'im," he considered musingly.

Rogue, grudgingly, admitted, "Ah don't not like yah."

"Y' like me, den."

"Didn't say that, did Ah?"

"Gotta be one or the other," he insisted.

"Don't try ta pin down what Ah am or what Ah think," she warned. "Ah don't like yah. But Ah don't dislike yah either, all right?"

Childishly, he crossed his arms and made a face at her. "How's Remy supposed t' get y' t' like him, den?"

She set the book down, frowning. "Nobody makes me do anything."

"Well, I'm trying, anyhow," he complained.

"Since when?" Rogue challenged, shaking her head. Her feet were growing numb. Easily, she reached down to tug on her socks and began to pull on her boots.

He blinked. "Since de night before my lil' lover's spat wit' Belle. Remember? We had a conversation without insulting each other."

Her frown deepened. "Yah're sure?"

He considered. "Non. Could've insulted y', y' could've insulted me. But neit'er of us has said anyt'ing too mean, so it don't really matter, non? Hell, I like it when women are mad at me."

"That explains a lot," Rogue muttered.

Remy's grin widened. "Now, look, we stuck together, aren't we?"

She eyed him. "Not realleh."

His grin faded as if it had its own disappearing trick. "How y' mean?"

Rogue shrugged, pale face devoid of visible emotion. "Ah latched onto yah from Belle's memories. And 'cause o' her, yah let meh. We each got problems enough to spread us over several frying pans. And now Ah think we're still hanging around each other 'cause we ain't got nowhere better to go and we're that damn book's got both of us in it, and Ah reckon yah've got some kinda safe place ta stick me and maybe yourself, 'cause otherwise we'll be on the lam from crazies who want our heads on platters to the end of days, whether we can stand each other or not."

His features sharpened. "Y' t'inkin' y' best off ditchin' a Cajun likely t' blow y' up, den?" he asked her in a darker tone.

Her eyes widened, surprised. "Ah'm the useless one, remember?" she said with a bitter tinge. "C'mon, yah've made it quite clear Ah'm 'crampin' yah style', wasn't it? It's plain Ah'm slowin' yah down."

"Hardly," he said, shaking his head. "I don' often spend my nights actually coverin' ground."

Her brows furrowed. "Ah kinda thought that was part of the problem," she mentioned, a slight taunt in her tone.

He licked his chapped lips. "Weeelll," he drew out, pained to admit it. "May not like it as much, but I'm better off."

"Uh-huh. And you'll keep believing you're better off indefinitely?"

His face changed at this. "Chere, I ne'er t'ink about indefinites. Not when it's a question whet'er you'll be 'round tomorrow. I'm a one day at a time sorta man. Can't see no fart'er dan Quebec right now. Get there, den we t'ink 'bout what's next."

Rogue looked at him, considering how odd it was to hear the word we with her included. It was an unusual experience for her. She studied his features, too handsome for his own good, which had the slight edge of fatigue about them but a great deal of sheer simplicity reflected in his relaxed gaze. She chewed slightly on her lower lip, noticing how his eyes picked up on that slightest gesture, undoubtedly analyzing it in one way or another. She liked longer-term plans than that, but at the moment… why bother? Slowly, she nodded. "All right," she agreed in her Southern twang.

He started to say something, but was struck by a shiver. "Shit," he mumbled, his teeth chattering slightly. The lack of heat was beginning to sweep through the building. He grabbed at his soaking silk shirt and cursed again. "Should'a t'ought t' have swiped more den one shirt, non?" He turned his head slightly, eyes skittering slyly in her direction. "If I weren't in de prescence of a lady, might very well pull my shirt off. But I got de feeling you'd cry bloody murder at me, whet'er y' object t' de sight or not…"

Rogue, meeting his gaze crossly, reached over to the small selection on display on a nearby shelf and grabbed another book. With a little difficulty turning the pages with her gloved hand, she opened to the first page. Looking down, she responded off-hand, "Yah're pushin' it, Cajun."

He frowned. "Am I? Don' mean t' be."

"Ah'll bet."

"Nah, really," he said, looking offended as he held his hands up in surrender. He leaned in, towards her. "How'm I supposed t' be? Whatcha want me t' do t' quit annoyin' y'?" He edged still farther forward in his chair, not half an arm's breadth away. His dark eyes rimmed with equally dark lashes studied her. "I ain't de strong an' silent type, chere. I don' shut up easy."

"Yeah," she offered dryly. "Ah had an inkling."

"Well, y' aren't a mute yo'self," he retorted, flashing his teeth in a quick grin. "Most times, I found mouthin' off gets me quieted in ways pleasant…" his gaze drifted off for a second, the corner of his lip turning up, until Rogue's stifled laugh jerked him back, "and, uh, not so pleasant." He rubbed his nose sheepishly. "Y' heard de phrase 'many a time a man's mouth broke his nose?' Well, dey were talkin' 'bout ol' Gambit."

Rogue's gaze flickered idly between him and her book before settling on the latter. "Doesn't look as if it's been broken. But yah could probably afford a plastic surgeon, right?"

"Still don' know how y' figured dat one out," he muttered, shaking his head. "How y' know I jus' ne'er been in a place wit' plumbing or some – hey, I ne'er had no doc tinkerin' wit' m' features! Mon Tante's a g-"

"Your arrogance, that's how," she said, and without taking her eyes from the book reached out to shove him in the chest, as he'd managed to get far too close. "All cocky about some things and confused about others, so yah weren't always. And Belle just screams old money." Pausing, she unsuccessfully tried to turn the thin page with her gloved fingers. Remy's hand, instinctively, moved to turn it for her. She snagged it before he got there, releasing it at once and pulling the book towards her. "Stop doing that," she hissed, standing up.

"But I'm tryin' t' be nice," he responded in exasperation, leaping to his own feet with ease. "C'mon, whatcha want Remy t' do-"

"Don't switch into that third-person, first string quarterback mumbo jumbo on meh," she warned, a darkness flaring in her green eyes. "Don't pull that shit on meh. Ah like doin' things mahself, since yah obviously didn't notice. Heck, some stuff Ah need t' do mahself, hear? An' plus, what yah're passin' off as chivalry is in mah opinion just some handy lil' tricks yah've picked up on gettin' into a girl's pants, an' yah're just incapable of turnin' it off. Ah don't find it charming, an' it ticks me off, so knock it off."

He looked at her, eyes blazing with something reminiscent of anger, which disappeared as he shrugged. "Dat's true, dat I do dat," he commented. The faint lines around his eyes furrowed in concern. "Truer den I like any femme t' recognize, really. Sure, 's plain enough I ain't no white knight on a shinin' horse or de other way 'round, but I don' see why y' won't lemme get away wit' de lil' t'ings." He stepped closer, scrutinizing her as if her features would let him figure her out. His tone became more urgent, and she backed up. "Damn, fille, what is it wit' y'? How come y' don' jus' lemme pretend t' be a better man den I am? How come y' see I'm pretending? De femmes let me, e'en de one's dat see through me. But not de Rogue. Makes me wonder how come." He looked her up and down, then lowered his voice. "Y' do like men, chere?"

The sloping curve of her white cheeks blazed as suddenly rose red as if he'd held a lit candle by each, matching the color of the still-pink rim of her eyes. Her shoulders drew up and squared slightly as her eyes narrowed, and her lips turned up mockingly in a way that worried him. "Sure thing, sugah, Ah like men right enough. Obviously it don't matter much, but yeah, ain't no doubt 'bout that. Just 'cause Ah don' happen ta agree with your belief that yah're hotter than the flames o' Hades and more irresistible than baby's blood ta a skeeter in the heat of July-"

"Oh, nice metaphor dere," Remy interjected, rolling his eyes.

"Ah, shove it, rich or not yah're as much of a hick as meh and yah'll gawd damn listen up," Rogue continued with flaring contempt, rolling her own eyes right back. "Ah don't like liars and Ah don't like fakes an' frankly, Ah don' like bullies, an' you got a touch of that in yah too 'cause yah're all too quick to try ta hurt somebody else when you've been stung, an' plus, yah're annoyin' and you don't listen for that matter either." Her eyes locked on his furiously. "Ah may need yah're help 'cause Ah've been dealt a bad hand, but Ah don't want your pity and Ah don't want you tryin' to make me think well of you just 'cause it'll make you feel better 'bout yourself. Ah'm not an idiot, an' Ah'm not a kid or a guy or Belle or one of your little flirtations or whatever yah call 'em either. Stop playin' a part!"

His lips drew to a tight little circle as his cheekbones tightened, his eyebrows drawing low over his glinting eyes. The downward tilt of his head made his face look almost triangular. "I am de part, chere. Whatcha see's-"

"No, yah're wearing about a kazillion masks and yah switch 'em back and forth, and Ah'm bettin' there's tons more even Ah haven't seen. Ah'm not sayin' there's some sweet wounded soul or anything stupid like that hidden, all Ah'm sayin' is yah adjust yourself ta what people want or expect," Rogue insisted, slapping one hand down once on the book in emphasis.

"Don't try m' wit' dat mumbo jumbo, y' ain't no head doctor," he said, voice darkening.

"See? See?" she said triumphantly. "Yah did it right there! Got ticked off and switched from one to another! You try to act like you're some kinda loner, but you're gonna tell me you don't care what others think about you? You gear everything towards making people like you, except with me, Ah'm gettin' the feeling some part of you wants you to hate me!" She gestured with the open book in her hand.

"Funny dis lil' lecture's comin' from you, sweetie. Seein' as yo' de same way. And y' don't even make no sense," he complained angrily. "Y' want me t' go way or open up? 'M tryin' t' getcha t' like y' are t' hate me? Tell m', 'cause 'm in de dark here."

Her jaw clenched. "Ah don't care whatcha do, though yeah, it'd make me happier if Ah could read mah book in peace for five seconds-"

"Quiet don' make peace."

"It does for meh! Ah can see through your damn charade. You don't want ta tell me 'bout your childhood or your family or, hell, yahr career or romantic life like you're hintin' at ever so subtly." She tilted her head, a dampened lock that was curling up falling into her eyes. "Yah're tryin' ta pull a fast one. Don't know what the purpose is, but yah are, and that's that."

He winked, not in a pleasant way. "Well, weren't it fo' yo' powers, chere, Remy'd be doin' it t' get y' t' uncross dose legs o' yours. No matter how tight dey be locked. Real shame 'bout dat pretty skin o' yours."

Instinctively, her arm looped around and she slugged him, her blow glancing against his jaw and jerking his chin up. He let her, hand going up to it carelessly to tap the sore spot. Rogue shook her head, hair drifting about her inflamed face. "Why you wanna be knocked about so bad!" she cried, hands balls into fists at her side. "Dumbass."

He laughed slightly, a deep harsh sound in his throat. "Oh yeah, chere, I really want y' hittin' me, e'en if yo' gloves cushion de blow. Mary, mot'er o' God," he said sarcastically, licking his dry lips. "Fine. Y' wanted t' be left alone, didn'cha?" He turned away, adjusting the folds of his wet shirt and snatching up his trench coat vindictively. "Go 'head. Read yo' book. I'll jus'- find m' own entertainment till we can get outta here. Y' sure as hell ain't gonna be de one providin' it."

Sighing, Rogue started, "Rem-" but halted. "Fine," she called after him as he sauntered off through the bookshelves. "Yah're gonna be a jackass and then sulk about it, fahne. Just 'cause you don't wanna hear it don't make it less true. Whatevah your game is, Ah'm sick of it. Far more messed up then Ah'll ever be, that's for damn sure." He shot a glare back at her before rounding a turn and disappearing from sight. "Ah'm getting what Ah want, anyway," she said, voice fading to more of a mutter as she plopped back down, opening up the book.

It took her a moment to start really reading, too distracted at first to get past the opening paragraph of the mystery novel. Time seemed as if it was passing, but according to the clock on the wall, much slower than she'd thought. The book wasn't holding her interest well, but she ventured on. It'd get better. If it didn't, she always had the option of ditching it and grabbing a new one. There were plenty of books.

A soft noise behind her made her spin, almost expectantly. She looked around, hair spinning as she turned her neck rapidly in the directions.

It took her a moment to realize it had just been her bomber jacket slipping off the back of the chair. Slowly, she picked it up.

A clicking noise from the other side of the library drew her attention, and after a moment of listening to the swishing sounds, Rogue realized Gambit was practicing with his bo staff. She considered this. She wondered what he expected her to do. How he figured she played into his strategy. His game. He was getting too damn close for comfort, all the time. Maybe he'd get the message and step back…….

Why was it a part of her didn't want him to?

Ignoring the sound of Gambit apparently hitting books out of the air, she turned back to her own book, tucking her legs onto the chair as she likewise tucked a strand of white behind her ear. "Whatever," she muttered, and with small difficulty, turned the page with her gloved hand. Her other hand toyed with the dogtags on her neck, creating a rhythmic, comforting jangling noise in the stillness around her.

She was halfway through the book when there came a pounding from the direction of the library's see-through entrance doors.

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Review Responses:

ishandahalf- Yeah… another chapter with more emotion and less action… but action'll be back in a while. Glad you thought that worked out last chapter, though I'm really less sure about this one… Your reviews are so much fun- hoped your psych paper worked out all right, despite its evilness- shudder. Uck. School. It'd be nice if they appreciated X-Men and fanfiction and gave us points for taking initiative as authors, but, yeah, right. Very glad you enjoyed it…. And Belle'll be running into some more problems sooner or later, but with any luck, our heroes won't be seeing her for a while… they've got enough on their plates. Yup, Rogue kinda needed a breakdown. Inevitable. Made it a bit harder to write this chapter, though… always difficult to pick up from a scene like that…. But, really, who wouldn't want their own personal Gambit to hold them when they cry?... um, okay, probably not most guys, but I meant of the female variety… okay, well, I shouldn't make generalizations. Mutant haters and Sentinels are definitely going to be major issues for a while now… now if they can only get to Canada, where everything will be all better,…..right?... but, yeah, with Remy's problems, Sinister'll have to become involved sooner or later- but this is an AU, so look for 'em when you'd least expect him and in a kinda surprising way (well, hopefully, anyhow)…. Though it seems the bunny might have OD'd, considering the time this required…actually, died from withdrawl's probably the more apt analogy…. That's okay, I picked up a new one at Bunny Village and will remember to give this one it's crack on time!

enchantedlight- Hey, cool, I felt extra-special 'cause you said you loved the chapter as opposed to it being great! Makes me feel like that chapter was extra fab. ;) As always, appreciate your faithful review immensely.

simba317- Lion King is still one of the bestest movies ever. I wanted to go see the musical when it was in town, 'cause I saw it in Toronto a few years back now and it was excellent…. But we forgot. Typical. I really enjoy your reviews, not only are they delightfully long, you did this neat analysis of the chapter and commented on little things I really like sticking in… Made me very happy. You're probably gonna want to kill me for this chapter… yup, they are growing on each other, but it's in both of their nature to kinda keep people at arm's distance, so I kinda needed to deal with that… but her being a minor, and him legal, probably not so much of an issue as the powers thing- and people ignore that all the time, plus Remy? Not so much concerned with breaking the law. But yeah, slowly but surely, inch by inch, step by step, the relationship's coming. Wolverine'll probably be helpful, once the urge to slice and dice subsides...you're absolutely right about how he, Remy and Rogue all do like each other and are a lot alike- but won't admit it- especially Logan and Gambit (God forbid they appear to get along!)…. Logan, whether he's French Canadian or not (his past, as always, questionable) has, I figured, presumably been around long enough to speak French…the comics showed he speaks Spanish, anyhow… my original update actually had a mistake, which I fixed, not sure which version you read- Belle was supposed to insult him in French, and that's when he said it, but I had the insult in Eng. as a placemarker, and… forgot. (looks sheepish). Which makes it make a lot more sense, anyway. Bobby means well… but he's an idiot. Loveable, but an idiot. And Gambit as a Jedi I can so see, especially as he's got the long trench coat, which does the same sweeping thing as the long Jedi cloaks- it was too classic not to do a comparison. And the pictures were actually Mariko's and Natasha's. Jean's too young- none of them have met her yet- so I went with another red-head, green-eyed woman Logan's had a relationship w/. Rogue really should have listened to Betsy… she's not too good at listening. But am extremely glad the whole last scene went over so well…. I liked it lots, myself.

jade- Thanks so much for your comments, especially on the action scenes, 'cause I really enjoy writing those tremendously… sorry this chapter took so long, but hey, to hear that I rock is a huge ego boost, so I'm very glad you like my story and hope you continue to!

Elf16- Your suggestion of a remedy was awful helpful- but don't worry, I've been better for a good long time- just extremely busy. Hope the website was a help to you… especially since I'm throwing in even more X-folk. But yeah, you hit the nail on the head with Rogue- she hates being vulnerable, and yet, with such close-range powers, she's often got very little choice. Wolverine's one of my favorites- he'll be catching up eventually, though I'll in all likelihood use him again first, just 'cause I can't resist…. He's too much fun. I'm not super-familiar with Betsy myself, just love what I always have seen of her, and she was the perfect choice for what I plan for her… so seeing as I probably don't know too much more, it shouldn't be too hard to follow at all. And your comment that you'd peg me as somebody who reads when ill- dead on. Only problem was I ran through my library books and I'd just reread my favorites and felt way too miserable to even stare at the page…. To say I read a lot could be considered the understatement of my life  I go a little berserk when I get a new load of library books… probably why I like fanfiction so much- so many stories… so little time…

Friend to All- love-hate is so much fun… and it really is such a funny thing in life. Thanks for your compliments and hope my story continues to live up to them!

Purity Black- Humor and action really do go hand in hand… probably why action scenes are so much more fun, really… I laughed aloud on your take on the knife polish- ah, I would love to see a commercial for that, or the expression on my sibling's face should I buy some- wait, scratch that, my father could then leave it around to scare off prospective guys who might like me who he doesn't like…. Betsy rocks. I spent quite a while trying to get her and Sean and Rahne down, and now for plot reasons I can't play around with them for a while…grrrr. I'm managing to torture myself, that's real clever. But jeez… the walk home, that would be something to see… particularly since Rahne'd probably be the only sober one… Yup, the Brotherhood are around, though causing more long-distance damage- finding Lance cute even as he's inflicting damage, hmm……… I so see that. Glad you liked that I cut around- I have a tendency to do that, and I swore to myself I wouldn't, but yup- ended up doing it anyways, and probably will continue to do so… it lengthens the chapter and adds needed space/ time between things, but also takes longer to get up, but really, I think skipping around's part of whatever style I've got, so I'm glad you liked how I did it. I liked all your thoughts about Remy and Rogue, especially as they were exactly what I was hoping for… though I didn't think of him trying not to be manipulative. With Remy, I think it's more about not being viewed as manipulative, but you're right- it kinda was. I'm very glad you thought well of the chapter, especially since you gave such a long review! I appreciate it tremendously- heck, if you need that beer, drinks are on me! ;)

Val- Glad the chapter wasn't a disappointment, hope this one wasn't either and hope you do find it again! ;) Thanks for reviewing!

Mrs. Rogue LeBeau- Yeah... Remy can be really sweet... gotta love Tante Mattie's influence! Thanks for reading and reviewing!

Tim- thanks for reading and reviewing, don't worry- I'll slip more action in soon. ;)

Kerin-Sama- Bobby'll be around, but I don't think he'll be meeting up with Rogue an' Remy for a while- but glad you like it, hope you continue to!

unknown- thanks for reviewing, so so sorry it took so extremely long to update!

UncannyAsianGirl- Those Evo eps have been a tremendous help, plus lots of fun, though I've been so busy, I haven't gotten to watch a couple yet… if you get the chance, tell me how far you reckon I'm off on the X-Men characters I was trying for this time around… Look! I beat you by updating again! Ooooohhh, you owe me reviews…. ;)