Star-Crossed and Everything After

Summary: An isolated event comes back to haunt Rogue just as her life begins to fall into place. When her past catches up with her entirely by accident and for reasons not even involving her, she must re-evaluate her life. Meanwhile, the cause of Rogue's upheaval has his own problems to contend with and green-eyed, southern distractions (and attractions) don't make things easy. Romy.

Disclaimer: I do not own the X-men, nor am I affiliated with Marvel in any way.

Author's Notes: After the results of the poll I posted concerning which 'verse my next fic should be in (which had movieverse winning), I abandoned all other works and quickly went to work focusing on this story. I will state right off the bat that I am unsure how frequently this fic will be updated, as I am very busy this summer. I will try my darnest though! As per usual I write with minimal accents.

Re-edited September 2010

San Francisco, California

Remy fidgeted with a deck of cards in frustration as he met another dead end. Another false lead. He'd never had so much trouble finding someone in his life, and right now his very world depended on finding this particular man.

It was no use dwelling on the negatives. So he had failed yet again to find the man he knew as Logan. There was always tomorrow, right?

As for right now, he needed to calm his anger and let go of defeat regarding his current failure. It was time to take out that old arsenal of happy thoughts. He pulled up a stool and lit up a cigarette, a habit he swore he was going to quit… just not tonight. He let his mind drift off to something more pleasant. He knew just what would cheer him up. That was an easy memory to find. It hardly required any thought at all.

The best sex of his life.

Instantly, a quick, knowing smile caught his face. Whenever life was at its bleakest he always had her to think back on.

There were some encounters a man couldn't forget. Some that stuck vividly in the mind as though they'd happened minutes ago, rather than months.

She was one of those.

No first name. No last name.

Simply Rogue.

And simply irresistible.

He had needed a name to call her by. She gave him that single word. The embodiment of that woman's soul.

Rogue.

He exhaled deeply, blowing smoke clouds into the air. He tapped the ashes into the tray before taking another languid drag, savouring the sweet nicotine. It always took the edge off when he thought about her.

The night he had met her he hadn't been trolling for women. Hadn't needed or wanted to get laid. It just sort of happened, like finding a lucky penny on the street.

She had come in from the rain, drops of water glistening on her pale skin. Such pale skin, much too pale for the Louisiana heat. He remembered noticing her right away, if only for such an ethereal complexion in the dim bar lights. He hadn't meant to approach her, he had no time for distractions, and she was a distraction of the worst kind.

But, she had caught his eye almost instantly, glancing away quickly and hiding the corner of her mouth that had upturned into a smile. It was all he had needed for an invitation. Abandoning his mantra to avoid distractions he had moved seats, sidling up close to her. She pretended she didn't notice, averting her eyes again in a coy gesture.

He remembered watching her as she sat perched sullenly on a bar stool, the air around her permeating of loneliness and isolation. It was as if the world had abandoned the beauty sitting beside him, leaving her in solitary confinement and to her own devices.

It was the loneliness that had caught him in the end. Not those sad, emerald eyes; not the smooth curves or full, pouty lips. It wasn't really a physical attribute at all that had drawn him in. It was her very essence, her very soul. It spoke volumes to him before she ever did.

It had been an attraction he wasn't used to. Sure, he'd encountered many beautiful women in the past, but none quite like her. No one had called to him the way she did. He could afford this one distraction. In fact, he couldn't afford not to have this one distraction. He had discovered instantly that he had needed her... and badly.

She called to his very being, to the exact center of him, and at the time he felt that if he didn't act on his urges she'd haunt him in a bittersweet melancholy for the rest of his life. He couldn't stand the thought of letting her pass on by and never knowing just how that pale, lonely body tasted or felt in his arms.

When her drink arrived, he paid. She couldn't ignore him after that. She turned those sad eyes towards him and spoke in a soft, lilting southern accent that he had to lean in closer to her to hear.

"They say the mutant cure doesn't last forever. Mutants that took it have found it to be only temporary."

It had been an odd thing to say as her starter conversation. It only enthralled him, and he had leaned in even closer. She smelled like vanilla and coconut, a cross between ski bunny and sun bunny.

"Damn shame for those who took it wantin' to be normal," he had answered, tipping back his drink and letting her see his fingers lightly use his mutation on the glass. His eyes never wavered from hers as the soft glow from his fingers tapered off, vanishing into thin air. It was only fair and good manners to let a girl know exactly who she was speaking to.

"I took it," she answered boldly, watching the glow from his fingertips fade. "And now I've hardly got any time left."

"There's plenty of time, Chere, being normal is overrated."

"Physical contact isn't."

He put his glass down, eyeing her carefully. It was a blunt and unexpected statement, one he had not anticipated. She noticed the look on his face right away and spoke quickly.

"Look, this isn't something I normally do. I don't chat guys up in bars on regular basis." She looked thoughtful and nervous all at once. "I wouldn't be doing this at all if—"

"You hadn't been dumped," he finished with a bitter smile. She was on the rebound. Girls like her always were.

"Yeah," she answered, startled by his observation.

"Let me guess, you're lonely tonight?"

"I'm lonely all the time."

"And for just one night, you'd love some company?"

She looked up at him with sharp eyes, devoid of any previous sadness and his throat went dry. He licked his lips as she answered, "Yes."

She could have had any man she wanted to, looking the way she did, and he'd been lucky enough to find her first. A shiny, lonely penny. He would not be wasting this opportunity or discounting his luck on this one.

"Tell y'what, this is how we'll do things," he began after much thought. "One night, no real names, whatever your pleasure."

She hesitated. "You don't know anything about me."

"You're clean, right?"

"Of course I am!" she answered back offended. "And that's not what I meant."

"Oh?"

"I've never done this before."

"You mentioned that already."

"No! I mean, I really haven't done this before."

He let out a low whistle, catching the meaning. It was hardly something that bothered him. He'd be the first…

"I must warn you, Chere, one round with me off the get go and no man will ever compare," he answered almost arrogantly in an attempt to ease the tension in the air.

"That's exactly what I want!" she exclaimed and he'd raised his eyebrows in surprise.

"To feel unsatisfied by another man for all eternity?" he asked wryly as she missed the joke.

"I won't get another man. My mutation is in the skin. Once it's back, I lose the ability to touch someone without dire consequences."

He understood the situation all too clearly. He was her one last hurrah before she returned to her mutant status. How ironic that she would choose a mutant over a human. Perhaps she felt that he, being mutant, would better understand what it was she was asking of him. Of course, she was hot enough that mutant or not, no man would have a problem sleeping with her, although some would be intimidated being her first and her only.

"D'accord," he answered. "Je suis tout à toi."

He couldn't quite describe the look of relief on her face that he had agreed to 'help' her. It struck him as peculiar that she would look so grateful that he would sleep with her. It should have been the other way around. It only solidified just how alienated she had been when she'd been a mutant.

Shortly after they had agreed to the arrangement, he took her back to his place and they exchanged names. He didn't expect her real name, nor had he gotten it. She was 'Rogue' to him, and that was what he called her. It was only because he would be the first man she'd ever be with that he didn't give her a false name. She would never know the difference anyway, given that they would only have this one, single night together. It was only right that she remember him by his name and not one he'd made up on a whim.

Remy tipped his head back, closing his eyes as he instinctively stubbed out his cigarette into the ash filled tray. God, she had been good. He'd never had one compare to her since. It was almost laughable that a virgin had managed to surpass all other sexual encounters he'd had. If ever there had been a girl made for him, it was her.

His unexpected, one night stand.

A rough tap on his shoulder had him jolting his eyes open and straightening his back.

"You the guy looking for Wolverine?" a guy asked warily.

"Oui," Remy answered just as cautiously, remembering that Logan also went by that moniker.

"Last time I saw him, he was here." The man handed him a folded slip of paper. "I doubt he's the same man you're looking for if he's still at that place."

Remy unfolded the note and read the sloppy, blue ink scribbled on the torn piece of paper.

Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters, Westchester, NY.

He refolded it, tucking it into his pocket and gave the man a nod of thanks before disappearing out into the night.

Translations: "D'accord. Je suis tout à toi." – "Ok. I'm all yours." ~ Thanks abthetis for the translating help!