Note: Been indulging in loads of wonderful, wonderful ROMY fanfics. :D Figures it's time to return the debt a tad and contribute a bit to the community. Enjoy~ Or as the French say it, Avoir un beau temps, or something like that. :)

Warnings: To be safe, spoilers for all four movies... if you squint. :)

Universe: Hoping for movie verse. But I'm quite confused myself which belongs to which, so it's AU.

Ratings: Mild violence.

Pairings: Rogue and Remy. Aww... double 'R's. *melts*

Disclaimer: Am borrowin', promise to return to Marvel in one piece (minus some limbs in some cases, but one piece nevertheless)

Prologue

'I'm fahne, really,' she repeated for the umpteenth time, 'Can I please go now?'

The kind doctor, back for the third time this week because of this particular patient, sighed and took off his black-rimmed glasses. 'You should get some rest, my dear. Your mutation is still developing and the six months break you took from it has taken a toll on your body's immune system.'

'Ah know, doctor,' her accent thickened as she shifted uncomfortably on the uncomfortable bed, 'ah shouldn't have taken the cure. That was stupid of meh. Ah promise won't do it again,' she gave him a reassuring grin.

'Rogue, you're letting Pietro's personality get the best of you,' he stated lightly, storing the blood he just withdrew from said lady into separate vials.

'Can't a gal be in a good mood?' her laughter echoed in the small room, light and unworried.

He chuckled lightly, having grown accustomed to her extreme temperaments 'I take that Logan's back?'

Her expression sobered immediately, 'Why would I care? He's been gone for half a year. Why come back now?' her tone was challenging.

A lesser man would've flinched and looked away, Doctor McCoy merely chuckled and said cryptically, 'Why indeed…'

Rogue stuck her tongue out at the furry blue man, 'So,' she cleared her throat and tried to sound unconcerned, 'how's the new cure coming along?'

He dropped an empty test tube in his surprise. Would it not be for Rogue's quick reflexes, it would have shattered on the marble floor. It hovered a few millimeters above ground. Doctor McCoy stared numbly as the tube returned to it's rightful position on the rack.

'I heard you were working on the cure for the disease that has been plaguing the non-mutant population,' she sounded almost accusing to his ears. 'So, how's it coming along?'

He cleared his throat self-consciously, 'it's still a long way from completion, but the main components of the cure are coming along nicely,' he admitted. He waited for the angry response he had gotten from numerous other mutants her age: A long drawl of furious insults that ultimately ended with the word 'Traitor'. It was only fitting. When the disease first emerged, the people were terrified. After all, they had no inkling about it whatsoever. It didn't take them very long to notice that only non-mutants were sick. Starting off with a mild cough that gradually led to a high fever, nosebleeds, kidney failure and ultimately death, the people were no longer terrified. They were furious, blaming the mutants for the disease. Dr. McCoy was asked to help in finding the cure when they discovered that somehow, someway, the mutant gene carried a protein that was capable of coding for an antibody that could fight against the virus. He was, indeed, a Traitor.

She frowned for a second and gave him an encouraging smile, 'I am glad.'

To say he was taken aback by her response would be an understatement. He was unbelieving, 'My dear, are the psyches giving you any trouble lately?' the kindly blue man put a hand on her shoulder.

'You mean, are they any louder than usual?' she tilted her head, giving him a cold glare, 'No. But I'm trying out the advise the professor gave me before-,' she waved her hand dismissively, 'it doesn't matter.' She floated into the air and phased out of the lab without so much as a whisper goodbye.

As luck would have it, she had managed to phase into Logan's private supply of alcohol. She tilted her head in amusement as a sudden revelation hit her. With a dismissive shrug, and a silent, 'what the hell,' she helped herself to a bottle of nineteen ninety seven Australian wine.

After two pints of vodka, a glass of ginger ale, and approximately one and a half bottle of fine wine, Rogue could do little to keep her brain intact whilst being berated by the unofficial guard of the mansion.

'What the hell were you thinking, kid?' he swore coarsely, taking in the scene before him. When he unlocked the chest he kept hidden under the sink, the last thing he was expecting was a drunk Rogue curled up in it, working her way through another bottle of his collection.

'Ah'm ain't a kid no more, Logan,' she responded, more out of habit than anything. 'And ah wasn't' She giggled, as if proud of the fact.

'Get back to bed, we're gonna have a talk in the morning,' he growled.

'For the last time Logan,' she climbed out of the cupboard on uneven legs, 'Ah ain'ta kid. We are notgoing to have a talk. And Ah am notgoin' back to bed. Ah'm goin' out foh a walk!' she declared, puffing out her chest defiantly.

'You don't know what you're saying, kid,' his eyes looked as if they were challenging her to defy.

'No,' she crossed her arms, 'You don't know what y're sayin'. Yah don't even know who yah are. Y' know nothing,' grief was visible in her eyes, 'y' don't evanh remembah,' tears were tickling down her cheeks, 'yah don't have to remember the pain, the anger, the fear.'

He didn't understand. And in his silence, he tried to make sense of her blabbering.

'Y' don't have the professor in ya head, telling you how to help others. Y' don't have Jean, fighting for control. Yah don't have Magneto, plotting to take over. Y' don't have Wolverine, consumed with grief. Yah don't have Bobby, Mystique, Pyro, Kitty, Colossus' she slid down onto the floor, 'Y' don't…' she sobbed into her hands, 'Y' don't know anythin'.'

'I know you,' even as he said it, he didn't believe it. Not anymore. All this time, he never knew…

Her hazel eyes looked feral, it looked like his eyes when he's angry, 'NO!' she screamed, 'Y' don't, Logan! Y' don't even know yah self!'

The words were out before he could stop himself, 'and you do?' He knew he shouldn't, knew that he was taking advantage of her drunkenness, but he wanted – needed – to know.

Perhaps it was the plea in his voice that sobered her up, perhaps the healing factor in her had finally taken over, whatever it was, she looked liked herself again when she shook her head, 'no,' her white bangs fell into her eyes tiredly, 'Ah don't.'

'You do, don't you, kid?' he sounded angry and he knew it.

'I'm sorry Logan, I don't know what came over me,' she whispered as she got up, ignoring his question.

'Just now, you said that I'm overcome with grief in your head. Why?' he wanted to know.

'I'm sorry Logan. Forget everything I just said,' she ran a shaking hand through her hair, or at least tried to, it went right through the top of her head. She shook her head roughly, 'I need a walk.'

'Did you just phased, Stripes?' for the first time that night, he looked worried, 'Is it your mutation? Did you talk to Hank about it?'

'Ah can take care of mahself,' she all but shouted.

'I promised I'd take care of you, kid, and I will,' his anger was seeping through, threatening to overcome his worry.

The voice that came out of her lips were not hers, but Magneto's, 'You can't even take care of yourself,' she raised her hand and with a gentle wave, sent her on and off caretaker through the window of the mansion. She followed, floating out of the mansion through the hole she just made, 'you can't even protect the woman you love,' and she gave a howl that sounded all too familiar to him. Her voice was that of his lifelong nemesis when she next spoke, 'When will you ever learn?'

He gave an inhuman growl before leaping into the air and forcing Rogue to the ground, 'get a hold of yourself, kid!'

She phased through his hold and with a well aimed kick on his back, forced Logan to the ground. 'You claim to want the truth,' she was Magneto once more, 'but when offered it, you choose not to accept it.'

'Rogue, what is the meaning of this?' Storm floated down from the rooftop.

'Storm, get away! She's-' but before he could warn her, Rogue, her eyes a menacing glow of red, focused her anger on her. In an optic blast of crimson that has not been seen since Cyclops had passed, Storm was thrown into the sky. Or she would have been, had she not been trained enough to react to the attack within a split second and move out of harm's way.

Logan took the diversion to get out of her hold and, out of pure desperation, punched her across the face with only as much force as he dared. She fell hard across the lawn and went limp when her head came into impact with the fountain.

Storm floated down gently, 'What happened?'

'Her mutation went out of control,' he winced as he relocated his arm. Her words rang in his mind, over and over again as he tried to make sense of them, 'she seemed to be everyone she's ever absorbed.'

'Not again?' she sighed, checking Rogue's head to see if there were any wounds, 'poor child…'

'What do you mean, "again"?' he was shouting before he could help himself, 'you mean this has happened before?'

She frowned when she realized there was not a scratch on her student despite the fact that she had just been thrown ten feet across the grass, 'Twice. Both times in the Danger Room so there were no permanent harm and we managed to calm her enough to regain control of her psyches.'

'And you never told me?' he sounded unreasonable, like an ill mannered child who did not get the toy he wanted.

Storm sighed, 'she is no longer a child, Logan. Rogue's decisions are her own.' And you weren't around, she thought, but that didn't need saying.

'What decisions?' his voice had returned to it's low growl.

'It is not in my place to tell you,' she sounded resolute, 'now, help me bring her to the observatory room. Hank would take another look at her.

Done. So, what'd you think? Worth continuing?