Disclaimer: Hello. I'm Kazoo. Neither I nor the residence own this song, Paramore, anything affiliated to them or Marvel. If you thought we did, well, I'll withhold my comment about feeble minds.

Kazoo Productions ™presents: The Only Exception

People at the institute think that I don't remember my life before Mystique adopted me. They assume at four, I didn't remember anything before then. The fact that I never speak about it helps with that idea. I'm very all right with them thinking that. They're less likely to ask. Why they would in the first place, I have no idea. That's just how conversation goes.

But I do remember. Very well.

When I was younger, I saw my daddy cry and curse at the wind. I don't know what the day was, but the sun was out and it was hot. My daddy was out in the front yard, yelling at my mama as she drove away in her car with another guy. At first, he just cussed her out, screaming and yelling. Some of the neighbors came out to watch. Then I guess that it hit him that she'd really just left him, us, and was not coming back. I can say I'd never and haven't yet been more scared than that day when my daddy, the biggest, meanest man I knew, broke down and cried on his driveway.

In a way, it was his own fault. I remember that they used to yell and fight a lot about him drinking and paying bills. I didn't understand why drinking was such a problem. Then mama would come in my room where I was playing and talk to me after daddy stormed out. I don't know why she thought it was such a good idea to tell me that love was just too hard sometimes. That it wasn't worth it. I believed her. Those words have stuck with me.

Afterwards, he drank more. I guess that was his way of dealing with it, his way of pulling his heart back together. It didn't work. He's dead now.

My mother never contested for me in the divorce so after he died, I ended up in the orphanage and Mystique came along.

I suppose all of that is just a long way to explain one of reasons why I avoid close attachments. There's some dead psychologist with a theory that everything sucky in your life starts with your childhood and is your parents' fault. Freud, maybe? Whatever. The thing is, there's always the chance that the other guy's going to get tired of you, or won't think you're worth the trouble, or decide to use you, or just be playing a game from the start and it ends up with hurt feelings all around.

Why am I even addressing this subject? Three words: Remy. Freaking. Lebeau.

Some months ago now, he shows up on the door step, saying how he'd like to join up with the X Men. Despite protests from Scott, Logan, and Kurt, Professor X welcomed him to the team. Good for him for wanting to turn his life around. I suspect it has more to do with getting away from his ratbag of a father, but I digress. That's still not the point.

The point is that Remy just up and decided he likes me, trying to date me and woo me, or whatever. The first time he asked me out, I laughed in his face. What? I seriously thought the boy was joking! I mean, come on! The untouchable and the self-declared ladies' man? Sounds like a sitcom to me. However, he was, in fact, serious. So he kept asking and I kept telling him no until I ran out of creative, insulting ways to say no and finally said yes. In my defense, it took four months. What can I say? I'm stubborn; he's persistent, fortunately for me.

Now, even when we started going out, and even though I am now willing to admit I like being with Remy – it took four grueling weeks before those words passed through my lips – I still lived by my set of unspoken but obviously there rules. It's a very simple rule and only one thing. That being, do not ever get too close. Because when that happens, a sort of attachment happens, one that you become dependent on. It'll be something you actually think you need. And when that attachment is gone, for whatever reason, it hurts.

Because of this rule, Remy and I had an off again on again relationship for three years. We broke up and got back together so many times, Kitty I'm-all-up-in-your-business Pyrde lost track. That is saying something.

So that all brings it to here and this moment.

I am walking down the aisle of a church in a white dress and holding a bouquet, something borrowed, something blue and all that with Kurt on my left. Remy's at the altar next to the preacher and might I say, he looks incredible in a tux.

There's a reason proposing to a gal in a dim-lit, fancy restaurant is a cliché. It works.

There are other people in the church, staring at me, but I'm hardly aware of them. I know Kurt's there because he's still trying to talk me out of marrying Remy.

"Are you sure?" he whispers to me through 'smiling' teeth. More like baring his fangs.

"For the last time, yes," I whisper just as quietly but smiling genuinely. I can't seem to stop though no one can see it through my veil.

"I vas just checking. Because if you're not, I could totally 'port us out of here. Ve could lay low for a vhile until everyone's calmed down and –"

"Kurt, I love Remy, I'm going to marry him, but I appreciate it. Now stop draggin' your feet and get me to the damn altar!"

I don't remember the ceremony. I just remember the look of pure love Remy gave me, how he looked at me like I was…I don't know, air or something. Something he desperately needed. And when the preacher finally said,

"You may kiss the bride,"

Remy lifted my veil and kissed me in a way that I can only describe as tender passion. Gentle, as if I might break but then with a kind of longing behind it that I nearly groaned aloud at the thought that we were going to have to sit through a reception. I wanted to just throw the bouquet right then and just go. To our room, that is.

By the end of it, my feet were sore from dancing and the ridiculously high heels Remy had picked out but, I was glad I stayed for it anyway.

That night as I lay in Remy's arms, he made some substantial progress in breaking me from my rule.

That's right. The whole don't-get-too-close rule. Yeah, I married him, I love him more than life itself, but it's hard to let go of something like that, you know? I've been holding on to it for years, since I was a little girl. And what did I say about being stubborn? That I am. But then Remy is very persistent.

By the next morning, I'd mostly decided Remy could be the exception to my rule. But the only one though. Maybe I know somewhere deep in my soul that love never lasts. Maybe we'll fall out of love, or get tired of each other, or one of us could die. As active members of the X Men, it was more than likely. And we've got to find other ways to make it alone and keep a straight face and you're okay and all that.

With these lovely thought swirling through my head, I raised myself slightly off of his chest and traced a finger along his face. Partly because I could, partly because I wanted him to wake up. After a few minutes, he obliged me.

"Bon matin, mon cherie," his voice was husky from sleep. His hair was stuck up at odd angles. He grinned at me. He was perfect.

"Good morning, baby," I replied, kissing his cheek.

He stares at me for a long while before he asks,

"What are you thinking, Madame Lebeau?"

"A lot," was my immediate response.

"I got time," he said, smiling at me.

That was one of the things I love about this man. He listens to me. Which is good 'cause he's about to get an earful.

"You use to scare me. I always live a certain kinda way, keeping a comfortable distance, never letting anyone closer than arm's length. You kept challenging it though and just would not stop. A few weeks before the time I said yes to our first date, I had sworn to myself that I was content with loneliness. Because I didn't think that it was worth the risk."

He leaned over and kissed me. After a long moment, he pulled back enough to ask,

"And now?"

"Oh, you're worth it, for sure.I think…I've got a tight grip on reality right now. It's still a little hard to believe that this is really it though. This is my life. And you're a part of it. I feel like this is a dream and I need some kinda proof it's not all gonna disappear."

"Hey," he brought his hand up to my cheek, and I leaned into his touch, "I'm not a dream. I'm not goin' anywhere."

I lifted my hand and put it over his, holding it there.

"I'm on my way to believing that."

"Maybe I could help speed up that process," he smirked up at me.

"Maybe but…"

"What?" he asked, quirking a brow.

"Your breath stinks," I said, making a face at him.

Remy rolled his eyes and using some kind of maneuver, managed to put me under him. He kissed me along my neck.

"Deal with it," he murmured.

Well, I suppose if I must, I must.

A/N: Wow…just realized there's no Logan in this story. That's like a first for my X men stuff.

So Kazoo and I really like this song and he was all like,

"Write it."

And I was all,

"I need to study."

"For why?"

"So I can get good grades and graduate and make money and stuff."

"Mhmm. Yes. FREAKING WRITE IT!"

"Fine! Bossy fox…"