A/N: Hey Guys. Sorry about yet another long-assed hiatus. Gonna lay it all out there - It was a difficult summer. I went into residential treatment for a pretty serious eating disorder. Recovery is slow going, but I'm getting into a much better place now and art in its many mediums have been a huuuuuge help in getting through the tough times. So I'm diving back into my love. Why am I admitting all this- in an author's note at the top of a fan fiction no less? Because eating disorders are a serious thing and as much as they are spreading like a virus through our culture, they are also being distressingly ignored. This disorder kills. A lot. I'm lucky to still be breathing. And it's painful. And it's lonely. So please, if you know someone who is struggling, please lend them your support. If you yourself are struggling, remember that recovery is possible and it feels a hell of a lot nicer than the hell you have to wake up to every day. Pleasure and Happiness are possible for every soul on this planet. Blessed be, my lovelies.

(Ok, *deep breath*, that out of the way, this is the next chapter! I'm not a big fan of it - I was a bit too ambitious- but I'm really excited to get to the chapters following, so I'm getting the ball rolling. The featured song is Havanna Brown's We Run The Night.)

Running The Night

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Rogue woke up Christmas morning to a bright strip of eastern sun searing into her eyeballs. Grimacing, she rolled over onto her back and smushed her face into the pillow.

A few minutes later she heard the click and rattle of the hotel door unlocking. Eyes squinting, she watched as Remy slinked into the room, quietly easing the door shut.

Rogue's eyes shot wide open.

Remy was shirtless, wearing only a dark blue pair of basketball shorts and running shoes. His naked torso was glistening with sweat, accentuating the dips and curves of his impressive back muscles. He turned around lightly on his feet, smirking when he noticed Rogue's eyes on him. "Mornin'."

Rogue struggled to keep her attention on his face. "Mornin'," she returned, shyly.

When Remy retreated to the bathroom for a shower, Rogue groaned and slapped her arms over her face. That damned sexy Cajun was going to kill her.

After a few moments of deep breathing, Rogue rolled off the bed and stretched the kinks out of her body. Perhaps Remy had the right idea. It had been nearly a week and Rogue's body was not used to the break from daily Danger Room sessions. Rogue decided on some calisthenics to limber up.

Fifteen minutes later, Rogue was listening to Skrillex on her disk man while doing center squats and therefore did not hear the bathroom door open.

"Well, Merry Christmas t'me!"

Rogue gasped and whipped around.

Remy was standing on the other side of the room, his shoulder leaning against the wall. His arms were crossed over his chest. He was still shirtless. His face was blank, serious, but his dark eyes glowed heatedly.

Rogue swallowed and felt the blood rush into her cheeks. They stared at each other from across the room for what seemed like an eternity. The air was heady between them, and for Rogue, uncomfortable. Finally, she managed to shake herself out of it and crossed her arms over her chest, mirroring the man in front of her. Raising an eyebrow, she drawled, "Merry Christmas, indeed, Cajun." She ran disinterested eyes over his form, poised and confident as a Greek statue. "Where's mah present?"

Remy blinked, his mouth popping open in surprise.

Rogue smirked at him, then turned away to grab her bag. Strutting haughtily past him, she entered the bathroom and shut the door in Remy's stunned face.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

It was just passed noon when the pair exited the hotel into the humid streets of New Orleans. Rogue was back in her green dress from the night before, Remy in his pinstripes and fedora. Rogue felt rather snazzy and couldn't help the light bounce in her steps.

Rogue was surprised to find the streets busy. People mulled around smiling at one another, dipping in and out of various bars. Street musicians sat on corners fillings the atmosphere with lively music from Christmas tunes to traditional bluegrass.

Rogue started off the day with a Hurricane from Pat O'Brian's, since the theme of the day seemed to be drinking. Ignoring Remy's amused smirk behind his mug of chicory coffee, Rogue took generous hits from her delicious yet gut-punchingly strong drink.

Remy cut her off halfway through the second when pavement started weaving back and forth, declaring it was time for lunch.

The next few hours flew by in a blur of sightseeing with Remy showing Rogue all the local hotspots and historic landmarks. Rogue had never been particularly interested in history, but even she had to admit New Orleans' tales of pirates, voodoo priestesses, and ghosts were anything but boring.

It was twilight as they walked languidly through the narrow streets, making their way to the riverfront. More musicians lined the sidewalks and a small mass of people gathered below the moonwalk to dance informally to a Cajun rendition of Jingle Bells.

Rogue couldn't help but smile at all the couples spinning around and laughing. People around her were clapping to the beat, giving her the urge to join in. She crossed her arms instead, embarrassed.

Suddenly, a hand clasped around her forearm and tugged. Startled, Rogue tugged back and turned her eyes to a grinning Cajun. He tugged more forcefully, propelling her forward.

"Swamp rat, what are ya doin'?" Rogue asked apprehensively.

The swamp rat smiled grandly, showing his stupid perfect teeth and pulled her arm once more, causing Rogue to tumble into his arms. "Dancin'."

"Oh no. No. Ah don't dance."

"Today y'do."

"Uh uh! No way in hell!"

"Relax, Roguey! S'Chrismas! Humor an old Cajun."

Rogue sighed and reluctantly placed her hands in his. Immediately, he wrapped one of her arms around his neck and pressed his hand into the small of her back. She could feel the heat of his palm soak through her dress and sear her down to the bone.

"...Ah don't know how to do this," she whispered.

Remy ducked his head to catch her lowered gaze. "Don' y'worry 'bout it," He whispered back, "Trust me." Without preamble, his hand left her back and raised to her face. Before Rogue could react, he lightly brushed one knuckle down her cheek, tenderly.

The warmth of his skin - surely it wasn't normal for people to exude so much heat! - hit her first, then almost immediately the tingling pull of her powers kicked in. In a dizzying rush, she felt memories of dance steps and midnight waltzes flood her mind.

Remy swayed on his feet for a brief second and Rogue tightened her grip on him to keep him from falling. After a moment, he shook his head, then smiled wistfully. "Y'sure do pack a punch, ma belle Cherie. Now come. Dance pour moi."

Rogue let Remy lead her to the center of the square. Surrounded by dancing couples, Remy held her tight and began to lead her into a lively swing dance. And dance they did. With barely a thought, Rogue's feet automatically began to move, following Remy's steps with immaculate precision. It was eerie, being able to know which moves Remy was about to do before he even had a chance to begin it. It was if they were sharing a mind, responding to each other's movement and shifts of weight.

Remy decided to up the ante by letting go of her waist and spinning her away from him. Rogue braced herself for the lift she knew was coming. As Remy pulled her back toward his body, Rogue bent her legs and pushed off the ground, right as Remy's hand enclosed around her hips and lifted her into the air. Swinging her legs to Remy's side, she twisted and whipped her legs over his back. Remy's arm pulled back and caught her calves, hooking them securely in the crook of his elbow. He let go of her hip and Rogue twisted and swung her torso upside down and around Remy's back, effectively twirling around his body like a hoola hoop. As her torso jerked upward again, Remy caught her, cradling her in his arms. He spun around a couple of times as she kicked her feet jovially. Next, he threw her legs upward and Rogue catapulted backward, back flipping out of his arms. He grabbed her, twirled her under his arm and yanked her close, back into the traditional hold.

Rogue was vaguely aware of the dancers around them clearing off to the side to watch them, cheering and clapping as they executed more lifts and dips. Time escaped her as she lost herself in the movement, enjoying the feel of Remy's sturdy hands guiding her around the square. She barely realized the song was ending until Remy dropped her into a grand dip. Holding onto his neck, Rogue stretched her form into a straight line, posing as the ending note lingered in the air. Breathing heavily, she looked up Remy. With his body bent over hers, his face was very close. Her smile faded as his stupid mesmerizing eyes latched onto her own. She briefly wondered what color hers were before her brain froze under the weight of Remy's stare.

His lips parted and his tongue darted out, wetting his lower lip. Rogue's brain melted and began boiling and steaming like a teakettle. Her chin lifted on its own accord and her eyes fluttered. She heard Remy's breath hitch and watched with anticipation as he slowly lowered his head. Her hazy mind vaguely recollected that this was a very, very bad idea, but for the life of her, she couldn't remember why. Her hands traveled up his neck and into his stupidly soft hair. She wished she wasn't wearing gloves so she could feel the silky strands run through her fingers.

Wait... Gloves.

"Fuck!" she yelled in his face and pushed roughly against his chest, causing him to stumble backward and her to land solidly on her butt. Distantly, she noted and stubbornly ignored the gasps of the crowd around her.

They stared at each other, unmoving. Rogue couldn't decipher the expression on Remy's face, but whatever it was, it was intense and caused Rogue's heart to lurch painfully. She had the sudden, mortifying urge to cry. But Rogue would rather be caught dead than cry in public, so she covered her sorrow with anger. Glaring at Remy, she whispered, "Stupid Cajun."

Remy's eyes lowered and his expression shifted to one of despondency. The emotion looked wrong on his usually cocksure, jovial, stupidly handsome face.

Mercifully, it only lasted a couple seconds. In a blink of an eye, his face converted back to its usual suave, smirking setting. He stood up and offered her his hand, helping her to her feet.

The crowd looked uncomfortable. They shifted on their feet and exchanged baffled comments between them.

Remy slung his arm around rogue's shoulders and shot a hundred-watt smile at them. "De femme, she really know how to sweep m'off m'feet, non?"

The crowd laughed, pacified. The small band started up again. An upbeat rendition of The Twelve Days of Christmas.

Remy gently led Rogue away from the crowd toward the river. Adjacent to the moonwalk was a handful of cement steps leading directly into the Mississippi, disappearing into the murky water. The moon was stark against the inky sky; the last strips of pink and orange just disappearing beyond the horizon. Lights glittered in the distance beyond the river, encased by a light fog.

Remy sat halfway down the steps. Rogue followed, sitting half a foot away. Their hands were still entwined and she stared at them in wonder. She liked his warmth, even through the gloves.

Remy sighed and shifted so he was lounging with his elbows on the step behind him. He stared out at the water for a few minutes before opening his mouth to speak. He hesitated, closed his mouth again, then shook his head, frustrated at his apprehension.

"Look, Rogue, I want you t'know dat - "

He was interrupted by a loud rumbling and the steps beneath them began shaking violently. Remy swiftly grabbed Rogue to keep her from stumbling down the steps. Cautiously, they climbed to their feet, clutching to each other's forearms.

"What the hell, Swamp rat? We don't get earthquakes this far south!"

"Don' look at me. I didn' do it."

"No. I did."

As one, they whipped their heads toward the top of the stairs. Lumbering above them was a hulk of a man covered head to toe in red and silver body armor. An odd helmet with a plastic face guard masked his features, but he radiated tension and power.

Rogue felt Remy tense beside her and his grip on her arms tightened. "Petrakis."

"Gambit, " the man returned. It was not a friendly exchange. Both men stood stock still, eyeing each other as a wave of aggression passed between them, growing with each passing second.

Rogue, tired of the male posturing, placed her fists on her hips and quipped, "Well, Gambit, ain't ya gonna introduce me to yer nice friend?"

Remy started, as if suddenly remembering her presence. He relaxed into an easy pose, but it seemed to be a struggle. "Mais sho', ma petite. Dis here is Dom Petrakis, also known as Avalanche. He an' I- we go way back." He offered Avalanche a grin, but it looked more like a sneer. "So, mon homme, t'what do I owe dis lovely visit? I assume y'ain't here for coffee and beignets? Who y'workin for nowadays?"

Avalanche just smirked as a second figure approached, stopping beside the huge lug of a man. The second figure was a drab, completely un-noteworthy gentleman. Someone whose face you would not be able to recognize in a crowd five minutes after passing him by. But as the man looked down at them, he cocked his hip out to the side and placed his hand on his hip. His skin began to shimmer and shift. His shape lengthened and slimmed, molding sensuous, feminine curves. Blue scales wrapped around her body and golden eyes glowed from beneath thick red lashes.

Rogue gasped as Mystique stared down at them with a quiet, mischievous smile. She glanced quickly at the man beside her. Remy looked like he had swallowed a mouthful of swamp water.

"Magneto," he spat, his eyes hardening.

"Balls," Rogue replied.

And with that, they simultaneously turned and took off down the boardwalk like two bats out of hell.

Run em, like run em, run em, whoop!

The ground beneath them began shaking and pieces of concrete began to rise and buckle in front of them. Remy deftly catapulted over the shifting debris, hauling rogue behind him. They leapt over the railing, dropping to the square where they had been dancing only minutes ago. The mass of people were now scattering about, screaming.

Run em, like run em, run em, whoop!

Rogue and Remy sped into the throng of people running across the street, away from the riverfront. More or less hidden amongst the crowd, the two ran into the Old Quarter and ducked behind a building.

Panting, they leaned against the brick wall, sneaking peeks around the corner.

"Magneto's after me," they said in tandem. They stopped and looked at each other in confusion. "He's after you?"

Remy shook his head. "Y'never cease t'amaze me, chere. Hein, let's not wait around and find out who he wants."

"Good plan."

With that, they took off again down the narrow streets, ducking into various alleyways and side streets.

When the sun goes down, down, down, down

Boy you're afraid of the dark, dark

They weaved through tired tourists and drunken teenagers, until the corridor opened to St. Anthony's garden, a small green square fitted right in back of St. Peter's Cathedral. They hopped the small iron fence and scurried between the bushes, squatting behind the marble pillar displaying the beautiful statue of St. Anthony.

And when the lights go out, out, out, out

Tell me do you know where to start, start

Back against the cold stone, Rogue looked up at the grand figure above her as she caught her breath. The saint's arms were held out, reaching for the sky as a smirking angel sat crosslegged at his feet, staring down at her.

Wait. That wasn't right.

Rogue was able to grab Remy's coat and yank him out of the way just as the angel leapt off the pedestal toward them in a flash of blue. Rogue didn't waste time scrambling to her feet, letting Remy push her out of the gardens and back into the maze of streets.

And when the base gets loud, loud, loud

That is when I feel a part, part

As they passed Lafitte's Blacksmith Shop, Remy pulled Rogue into the old converted bar. Bypassing the customers, he led her to a dark corner where the dim yellow lighting did not reach.

And when the world sleeps sound sound sound sound

..the sound is the key of my heart

Sweat trickled down Remy's stupid, perfectly sculptured face. Wiping his forehead with the back of his hand, he looked over at a panting Rogue. "T'ink y'still have me in you?"

Rogue started, misinterpreting his words. Oh! Blushing furiously, Rogue shrugged.

Remy handed her a handful of cards. "Just in case."

"Thanks."

"Oh, an' chere?"

"Yeah?"

Remy grimaced. "Try not t'blow up my city, oui?"

"Okay. "

We run.. yes, we run the night, the night

We run .. yes, we run the night, night, night

They inched out of the back door, creeping cautiously through the terrace. Reaching the stone wall, Remy leaped on top of it with inhumanly graceful agility. It was kinda hot, Rogue thought. You know, for a stupid Cajun.

We run .. yes, we run the night, we we we run

We .. yes, we run the night, the night..

Rogue shook her head to clear the inappropriately timed thoughts from her mind then accepted the proffered hand above her. Remy hoisted her up and she landed in a crouch with an elegance of her own. Remy eyed her with appreciation.

Run em like, run em, run em, whoop!

Together, they leaped from the stone terrace and took off down the street.

Run em like, run em, run em, whoop!

As they skidded around a corner, Rogue's face smacked into a wall of something very warm and sturdy. Reeling back, she found herself staring into the huge black eyes of a startled mule. It whinnied and tossed its head as Rogue slowly backed away. She jabbed her elbow back roughly, hitting Remy in the gut when he started guffawing.

"Oooomph!... Cherie, you are priceless." He paused, cocking his head. "And a genius." With that, Remy grabbed Rouge's arm and yanked her forward passed the mule and toward the carriage roped behind it.

The carriage driver, a scrawny little guy who couldn't have been more than eighteen, was snoring peacefully behind the reins. Remy simply grabbed him under the armpits and hoisted him out of the driver's seat like he weighed nothing at all. Depositing him on a nearby bench, Remy jumped into the vacated seat and pulled Rogue up beside him. He cracked the reins and was off before the boy could even sputter his disbelief.

Feelin like a rush rush rush

Pushing past me all over my skin

Speeding down the avenues, tourists and street artists scrambled to get out of the way. Remy turned sharply onto St. Peters Street, causing the carriage to skid and careen dangerously onto one wheel. Smashing into a trashcan, the carriage landed upright with a violent crash, causing Rogue to grip her seat and grind her teeth.

I can get enough nough nough

'cause the beat keep pullin' me in

Flying down the largely empty street, Rogue couldn't feel the rumbling of the earth below her until the mule began to whinny and falter. As the animal clopped clumsily to a stop, the carriage car kept going, slamming into the mule's ass. The beast reared up onto its hind legs then took off again with a greater vigor until a huge crack in the pavement grew and spread its way toward them. Rogue almost flew out of her seat.

Taking me so high up up up

A place that I've never been ahh

The mule attempted to swerve to the right as the fault reached them, but the carriage couldn't manage the turn and toppled over, sliding toward the widening gap. At the last possible moment, Remy circled his arm around Rogue's waist and jumped from the car. Grabbing the end of a balcony, he hefted Rogue over the banister. Landing on her butt, she spared a moment to glare at the Cajun before scrambling to her feet. Taking three running steps, she sprang up to land one foot on the lattice and leapt onto the balcony of the next building. She felt more than heard Remy follow.

Party party all night night night

sleep all day then do it again.

Balcony to balcony, they leapt with an almost choreographed grace. Reaching the corner building, Remy whistled to Rogue and braced his foot against the lattice. He stretched up and grabbed the edge of the roof and quickly hauled himself up. Immediately, he bent down to offer his hand to Rogue. Side by side, they ran across the tiled roofstops of the French Quarter, flying from one building to another.

We run.. yes we run the night, the night

As they headed toward the northern edge of the Quarter, buildings stood farther apart and a smattering of foliage rested at the street corners. Remy flew across the heavily slanted roof of a residential home. As he reached the precariously attached gutter, he sped up and braced his foot against the creaking metal. He pounced toward a neighboring tree and grabbed onto a nearby branch with both hands. He swung his body, released the branch, managed a back flip, and landed comfortably on the cobblestone sidewalk.

We run .. yes we run the night, night , night

Rogue followed the stupidly agile Cajun. But as her foot hit the creaking, rusted gutter, her balance was thrown off as it disconnected from the roof tiles. Her body flailed as the momentum threw her forward. She managed to slap a single hand onto the low hanging branch that Remy had just swung so effortlessly from. It jerked Rogue's body violently and her grip slipped. She braced herself in expectation to hit the pavement, but instead of her butt meeting cold cobblestones, she found herself enveloped in strong arms. She looked up at Remy's gloating smirk and scowled to squelch her desire to smile back.

We run .. yes we run the night

Remy set her down and took her by the hand. In once swift movement, he lowered his head and brushed his lips over the back of her glove, his stunning eyes never leaving her face. A split second later, he turned and continued to sprint onward, using his grip to drag her long behind him. The movement was so quick, Rogue didn't have time to deliver the punch that she wanted to deliver to his face.

We run… yes we run the night. Night, night, night…

They hit the intersection of Basin Street, and was dead-ended by the historic St. Louis Cemetery #1. A shared look, matching shrugs, and a running leap was all it took before Rogue and Remy were hauling themselves up the iron-wrought gate and on top of the tall cement wall.

Run em like, run em, run em, whoop!

They hopped from mausoleum to mausoleum, their feet skidding over the crumbling, aging stone. It is said the cemeteries in New Orleans kept their graves raised in enshrined tombs – from small, rough blocks of cement with gouged holes where the name marker once rested, to ornate vaults of expensive marble, surrounded by sculpted angels, meant to house generations of wealthy families – to keep the bodies from washing away in the low water table of the swampy lands the town was founded on. Knowing this didn't help the creep factor as Rogue struggled to keep up with Remy's pace with the dim lighting and dark shadows dancing around her.

We run, yes we run the night

A piece of granite broke under Rogue's feet and caused her knee to buckle. To keep from falling on her face, she dropped her knee to the stone, lunging her other leg forward and using her fingertips to push from the roof, and with a sharp twist, diverting sharply to the side. Her hands grasped for the neighboring mausoleum, however her fingers met instead with a smooth expanse of angled plaster. Her body slammed up against the wall and she found herself sliding down the most random, ridiculous white pyramid. Sliding to her feet, she looked at the monstrosity, cocking her head.

"Nicolas Cage." Remy slid up beside her, his head cocked to the side as well.

"Really?"

"Yup."

Rogue shook her head. "Only in NOLA."

Remy grinned and ran his hands through his hair. "Hey, Marie Leveau's right over dere if y'wanna –"

Remy's invitation was cut short when the ground shook violently. A large crack ran through the pyramid, splitting it in two with a huge bang.

"Uh… maybe later."

"Oui."

We, we, we run, we, we, we run, run

We run, yes we run the night.

A feminine cough came from behind them.

Rogue sighed and squared her shoulders. It looked like she wasn't going to get out of a little chat with her resident megalomaniac and his henchmen. Looks like her holiday was effectively over.

Run em, like, run em, run em, whoop!

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"Нет, нет! мы обещали вам тройную оплату только один раз это сделать. " Tessa rolled her eyes and drummed the fingers of her free hand against the desktop.

There were few things more aggravating than dealing with the Russian mafia. They were arrogant and presumptuous, although, Tessa had to concede, it was not without reason. They were easily one of the most powerful organizations in the world and have proven themselves more than capable of outmaneuvering almost every corporation and institution in existence. Almost every. Tessa sighed and shifted the phone to cradle against her shoulder as she flipped through the obscenely thick pile of papers in front of her, scanning the freshly faxed list of the mafia's current activities at a pace too quick for her mind to keep up with the images flashing through her vision. Therefore, it wasn't until five pages later that it registered what she had just read. She interrupted the stream of Russian against her ear and flipped back to the memo that had caught her attention. "заткнуться. Your eyes on Magneto's base reported the apprehension of two mutants at 7:15pm." Tessa looked down at her watch. A good twenty minutes ago. "I want the details."

Tessa listened with a slight frown. "Oh, no. This will not do," she said to herself. With a murmur of thanks, she ended the call and stood. "This will not do at all." She grabbed her coat and exited the office, mentally scanning through the list of late-night takeout options. This was going to be a long night.