Disclaimer: I own nothing of X-men: Evolution.

You

by: oceanbang

Summary: Sometimes, two lives intertwine and lose their ability to exist as separate entities. An untouched girl, needing to be loved. A jaded Cajun, only following orders. Their story begins in the rain. Takes place AU, Season 2.

Chapter One: Rains of Change

(break)

"You are the moon to my tides

Your air, in me it abides

Sea of desire pushing ashore

A taste I will forget nevermore"

I've accepted this world as imperfect. To tell yourself otherwise is to live as a fool, and I'm no one's fool. Some people have it all, but even the prettiest roses are trampled now and again. You tell yourself to be strong, to survive. Sometimes that's all you can do – survive.

"Rogue?"

I turned to face Scott, brushing my bangs back. His brow furrowed into his shades. "Hmmm?"

"Everything all right?" he asked.

"Ah'm fine. Just daydreaming."

He smiled. "About me?"

I forced a laugh that caught in my throat. It sounded like I needed the Heimlich. I cleared my throat, avoiding Scott's odd look. "You wish."

After slamming the locker shut a little louder than intended, I brushed past him, eyes to the floor. I could feel his shades prying into the back of my head, trying to figure out what was going on in there. It was my head and I still had trouble understanding things.

"Oh, hey, wait!" His hand grabbed my covered shoulder. I flinched out of habit. "Sorry. Um, Jean's staying after for this club meeting or something, and I told her I'd wait up, so–"

"Ah get it. No worries, Scott. Take the bus home. Ah'll tell the others."

He gave me an uneasy look. "Kurt's in detention. Evan's on his board and Kitty's making up a test."

"Oh." Take the bus home…alone. "Well, saves me the trouble of texting them all."

"It's my bad, Rogue," he said. "I forgot to tell you before. I promise I'll make it up to you."

Doubtful. "It's cool," I said, and turned away, blinking quickly to prevent any waterworks. The more time I spent around Scott, the softer I became. He reminded me of what I wanted so badly.

"Bye, Rogue."

"Yeah, see ya." I turned away. "Say hi to Jean for me."

J-E-A-N. Four little letters that could always put me in my place. If Scott represented what I craved and yearned for, Jean represented everything I wasn't – pretty, popular, polite, passionate. I often imagined her smooth skin being caressed by Scott's strong hands, her soft lips being embraced by his. The two weren't even together, weren't intimate. But I knew how Scott felt about her. How he desired her. I've always wondered what it'd be like to be desired. To be the center of someone's affectionate thoughts. Jean was every guy's top prize, and I was pulling for consolation. Throw in the heavy makeup, heavier sarcasm, and outfits that covered almost every inch of my pale skin, and being a consolation prize suddenly seemed as equally unattainable as being the next Jean Grey.

"Damn, just my luck," I said, stepping through the front doors and seeing the last school bus from afar, as it exited the parking lot. I attempted to estimate the walking distance between the mansion and school. Glanced down at my oh-so-comfy black boots. "Public transportation it is."

(break)

The open bus door lingered behind me. I tried to count the number of people in the seats, in the aisle, but couldn't. I was three steps from being crammed between an overweight man and a young woman with a crying baby. The bus was nearly overflowing.

"Please move ahead, Miss," the driver said. I glanced at him, then at all the sweaty bodies and exposed flesh packed like sardines before me.

"Ah think Ah'll wait for the next one."

"Suit yourself," he said, and motioned me with his fingers to go away. The door almost closed on me, as I hopped onto the sidewalk. The engine roared and the claustrophobic's nightmare churned into traffic, disappearing in the sun's glare. I don't do well in crowds. Go figure.

As I started the journey home, boot to pavement, one step at a time, I thought of Scott. I thought of how I had trouble looking him eye-to-shades. He had a beautiful face, but it was a face I would never touch. Sometimes he'd give a little smile, and it would fool my heart into skipping a beat. But then Jean would walk by, and that smile would brighten. I was a distraction. I was there to remind him that not having Jean was better than not having anyone at all. I love being the standard by which everyone else can make themselves feel better by.

"And there goes the pity party," I told no one in particular.

My thoughts stayed on Scott Summers, while the urban became suburban, and soon rural. My daydreaming numbed the pain in my feet as well as the dryness in my throat. Gothic apparel never got along well with the outdoor elements, namely humidity. My sleeves were pushed up, but that was it. Even better, the sky was quickly becoming a mass of gray and black. At least the wind started to pick up and cool my face.

As I imagined Scott's strong, supple body, how it would feel against my slender one, the sound of a motorcycle shattered my reverie. Logan, possibly? The road to the mansion was up ahead. I kept to the grass, my eyes on the swaying trees. A man on a motorcycle blew past and disappeared around the bend.

I looked skyward as a few drops of rain splashed my cheeks like forgotten tears. A downpour would be inevitable. I considered taking off my clothes and making the rain my lover. Walking several miles in boots and stuffy clothes will make you think funny things.

The motorcycle reappeared from the bend, this time heading towards me. The rider cut across the road and braked, coming to a standstill on the side of the road a little ways ahead of me. I kept moving, fists clenched, ready to get down and dirty if I needed to. Honestly though, I was hoping he was just going to ask for directions. I was far too tired to enjoy fending off a prick.

"Need somethin'?" I asked, noticing the helmet-head was following my every move. I walked closer to the trees, keeping a wide berth between me and the rider. He dismounted and removed the helmet.

I forgot how to breathe.

The eyes – fireball pupils floating in what should have been white but was black as tar. The smile – curved up at one end, as if it was anticipating the punch line of a joke. Chiseled, scruffy cheeks and dark, chestnut-colored hair spilling across his forehead. The smile was inviting, but the eyes were otherworldly, mischievous. A beautiful monster.

"S'cuse me, pretty lady. I been travelin' some time now, trying t' find a certain Xavier Institute. Y' wouldn't happen t' know de place, would y'?"

Hot coals, being rubbed together – that's what his voice reminded me of. Deep and smoky, soaked in some tender accent I recognized but couldn't place yet…

I remembered to breathe. "Oh, uh, yeah – Ah mean, yes, yes Ah do. Ah live there. Walkin' that way, actually."

An eyebrow cocked, he tilted his head to the side, surveying me. "Tell me, cherie, why's y' travelin' by your lonesome?"

"Missed my ride. It's a nice day, anyways." Several more raindrops splattered my face. The rider glanced up at the stormy heavens, then back at me. This time he raised both eyebrows.

"I see. Well, it'd be the gentleman t'ing t' do t' offer y' a ride, non?" He asked, and then I placed it. Cajun – spicy and flavored with a bit of French. I continued staring at his face, sculpted and flawless. Except the eyes, which burned into the pit of my stomach the more he stared at me. He was definitely a man who stared freely, as if any woman would complain about a man like him giving her attention.

The rain picked up, and I could feel my face melting. Nothing more attractive than twin rivers of mascara running down a girl's cheeks. I hung my head, seriously considering why I spent so much time each morning with makeup, as if I was heading to the circus instead of school.

"Sure, you're actually not far," I shouted, while the symphony of rain intensified. "Further down the road. Then take a right. It's a little obscured by the trees but it goes straight to the mansion."

"Merci. Ready for de ride of your life?" He outstretched a gloved hand. I watched it for a moment, half-expecting him to pull it back teasingly the moment I reached for it. Water seeped into my boots, and I was half-blinded by eye shadow. I grabbed his hand as fast as I could.

"Thanks."

And then we were on the bike, a helmet being stuffed onto my head. "Keep dat pretty face staying pretty," the rider said, and then he drew my arms around his torso. "Hold tight. Remy tends t' forget de laws of physics."

Remy. I whispered the name into his back and it tickled my lips. I tightened my grip around his body and saddled up as close as I could. Even though he was wearing a trench coat, I could still feel every contour of his body beneath it. A network of sinewy muscles rubbed against my forearms, as Remy shifted and engaged the bike. As he revved the engine, I caught a glance of my helmeted self in the rearview mirror.

What was I doing, exactly? Riding on the back of a motorcycle with a complete stranger, a devilish stranger who was both exotic and a little…unsettling. I was going to lead him straight to my home, to my friends, with no clue to his intentions.

The moment we jerked forward, I realized I was being very stupid. Charm could make a girl very, very dumb.

The woods whipped by, as did the freefalling rain. I buried myself into Remy's back, as he was my shield from the elements. He also exuded enough warmth to quell my gooseflesh skin. I closed my eyes, wanting to remember every sensation, every feeling of this moment. No matter where it was leading, it was perfect right now. I couldn't remember the last time I was this close to someone, sharing body heat. Especially someone so enthralling, so mysterious, so…

"Hey."

The whipping winds and rain threatened to steal my voice. "Hey."

The mansion road disappeared behind us. I jerked backwards, trying to lodge my fists into Remy's abdomen. He remained unflinching.

"You passed the road already," I screamed into the back of his head, but my helmet muffled me. "Turn around."

He jerked to the left, coasting along the bend in the road and almost sending me sideways. I cried out and reaffirmed my death grip on his torso. Panic shot from my belly to my throat, constricting it. At this speed, tuck-and-roll would still leave me bruised and bloody, if not unconscious. I could barely discern the trees around me. Because of the rain and the bike's velocity, the world bled like watercolors. My only option was to keep clinging to this man, wherever he was taking me. As stupid and scared as I felt right now, a small part of me burned with excitement. An hour ago I was wallowing in wishful thinking, aching for a boy scout who was too nice to tell me he wasn't interested. Now, I'm wrapped around a sexy stranger, on the verge of an unknown adventure.

Don't I deserve a little excitement?