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2:17 A.M. Salem Center, Westchester County, New York.
Rogue had always loved the quiet of the early morning hours at Xavier's. Living at the mansion with a whole team of X-Men, where everyone knew everyone else’s business and there was hardly ever room to breathe, was sometimes tough for a girl like her who tended to keep her distance from people. It wasn’t just her powers that prevented her from getting close to her teammates, though that was certainly a big part of it. She had been with the X-Men for just over two years now and counted few among them as friends. Logan maybe, and sometimes Storm, though Ororo was more of a mentor than the kind of friend you would go shopping with. Rogue was aware that she came off as guarded, even downright unfriendly sometimes, but what was she supposed to do? Anyone she had ever gotten close to had hurt her in some way, or worse, been hurt by her. She had been manipulated, lied to, made to believe that the people who raised her actually loved her when all they wanted was to use her. She had betrayed people and done terrible things as a member of the Brotherhood before seeking Professor Xavier’s help. Having a complicated background meant that she wasn’t good at trusting people—and found it even harder to trust herself. So she kept her head down mostly, showed up for training sessions and missions, participated in daily life at the mansion, but never really connected with her teammates on a deeper level.
Until now. The unease brought on by her current situation was probably what had roused her tonight. Lately she had been feeling restless, unsettled, and she knew exactly why that was. She pushed the thought aside and glanced at the alarm clock on her bedside table. 2:21 A.M. and it didn’t look like she was going back to sleep anytime soon. She briefly contemplated flying up to the roof, but thought better of it. He might be up there. He was a night owl and she had quickly learned that the roof was his favorite spot to sit under the night sky and enjoy a cigarette. Even though being around him stirred up all sorts of pleasant feelings, she was just too confused at the moment to face him. She needed to go somewhere she could be alone and find peace.
So she pulled on a t-shirt, a pair of jeans, and her brown leather cowboy boots before shrugging into her brown bomber jacket. She carefully opened one of her bedroom windows, not wanting to disturb a sleeping Jubilee, whose bedroom was right next door. Rogue breathed in the cool October evening before taking to the air, flying a short distance to a clearing on the grounds of the Xavier estate that was surrounded by a grove of trees.
It was a beautiful autumn night, undisturbed except for the occasional light breeze. The moon was nearly full, the stars were out, and Rogue allowed her thoughts to drift back to him as she stood with her eyes closed, hugging herself.
Godammit, what had she gotten herself into? So far, they had gone on one date that had ended in disaster, had a picnic that ended up with her covered in boysenberry pie, and had managed a third date that had gone relatively well, except that she had cried through it thinking about poor Ilyana. In their line of work, even having time to socialize was a luxury. With everything that the team had to face almost daily, and with the added complication of her powers, she wondered if this experiment was doomed to fail from the beginning.
Still. She hadn’t been able to voice it out loud yet, but it had been gnawing at her brain for some time. Now was as good a moment as any to admit it to herself, at the very least. You love him, you idiot. And there it was. There would be no turning back, no denying it, and certainly no running from it. At this point, Rogue knew, the only way out was through, and the good Lord help her. Eyes still closed, she sighed in defeat.
She heard him before she saw him. Rogue’s eyes snapped open and she tensed. Turning, she saw Remy step into the clearing, looking like he hadn’t gone to bed yet, his handsome face bathed in moonlight, his t-shirt hugging every muscle of his upper body. God, he really was gorgeous, wasn’t he? If she was absolutely honest about it, part of her had been hoping to see him tonight, despite her earlier need for solitude.
“Chère,” he said, smiling as he came towards her.
~~~~
“Remy,” she responded, looking slightly ruffled. He hadn’t wanted to disturb her when he saw her from the roof flying toward her favorite spot on the grounds, but he couldn’t help it. When it came to Rogue, he would take any opportunity to be near her. He respected her need for space, sure, and he knew exactly when to quit pushing when it came to forcing her out of her comfort zone. But whatever this was between them was growing; he was sure that she felt it too, that as guarded as she was, she wanted this as much as he did. And Remy LeBeau had never been as intrigued by any woman as he was by Rogue. Well, he told himself it was intrigue, interest, certainly attraction, but maybe he should just call it what it was.
You love this woman, homme. No denying it anymore, neh? He took in the sight of her standing there, looking like she’d just gotten out of bed, her hair wild and her eyes bright, and that was it. Game over. He was ready to fold.
“Sorry chère, were you wantin’ to be alone?” Even as he said it, he took another step toward her, almost close enough now to touch her.
He saw her expression soften, a slight smile tugging at the corners of those perfect lips. Not for the first time, he wondered what they tasted like, what it would feel like to kiss her, to nip at that lush bottom lip before sliding his tongue in between…
“S’okay, Remy. I’m glad to have the company,” she said, startling him out of his increasingly vivid fantasy. She looked up at him from beneath the thickest set of lashes and he had to take a breath. She really was beautiful, wasn’t she?
“Good.” He met her eyes, noticing that she still wasn’t completely at ease. “Somethin’ wrong, Rogue? Anythin’ I can do to help?”
“No…yes…I just…” she took a step toward him, then another, until finally there was less than an inch of space between them and a whole lot of heat. She put her gloved hands on his chest, surprising him, and her face was a mixture of frustration, despair, and longing all at once.
Remy wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her close. “Rogue, talk to me.”
He felt her sigh into his chest and shake her head. “What are we doin', Remy?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean this. Us. What are we doin'?”
“Huggin'?” That annoyed look of hers was back and she glared up at him. “Sorry, sorry. I’ll be serious. What do you think we’re doin’, Rogue?”
“No fair answerin' a question with another question, LeBeau.” She was becoming even more annoyed with him, and in his eyes, more irresistible. The way he could read every emotion she ever had on her face was one of his favorite things about her; this fiery, passionate, uncontained spark of a woman was unlike anyone he had ever met.
He paused, contemplating. “Rogue, I don’t really have an answer for you. Just that whatever it is, I don’t want to stop. And I think maybe you don’t want to neither, non?”
She pulled away from him, and he could feel her retreating in more ways than one. “And then what? What’s goin' to happen when…if we keep doin' this and eventually you…”
“Eventually I what, Rogue?” He wanted to hold her again, wanted her back in his arms so he could stop her from spiraling; but he knew from experience that this was one of those times when she needed the physical distance that she had now firmly established between them.
“When you decide that you’re done, that you’re bored, that bein' with me was a stupid idea to begin with and—”
“Rogue, chérie,” he interrupted her. “That ain’t gonna happen, I tol’ you—”
“I can’t touch you, Remy!” she exclaimed, fully agitated now. The anguish on her face broke him. This was a carousel that they kept going round and round on, an argument they’d had many times before. And he knew that the only thing he could do was tell her the truth, over and over until she believed it.
“So??” he yelled back, his voice echoing in the silence of the night. “How many times do I have to tell you, Rogue? I don’t care! I don’t care if we can’t touch, don’t care if we never touch! Some things be deeper than skin, chère!”
“Like what, Remy?” They were both full on shouting now and the color was high in Rogue’s cheeks, her green eyes flashing in anger.
He swallowed, not sure how they had gone from embracing to wanting to tear out each other’s throats, but also tear off each other’s clothes. This was how it always was between them, and as messy and complicated and impossible as the situation was, he realized suddenly that he didn’t want to do this any other way with anybody else. “Like love, Rogue,” he said quietly.
He saw all the anger go out of her and she stilled. She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came.
Remy closed the distance between them and held her face in his gloved hands. “I love you, Rogue.” And by speaking it out loud, what had been growing between them finally had a name they both recognized.
She couldn’t meet his eyes at first. When she did, he saw that they were wet with unshed tears. “Anna Marie.”
“Pardon?”
“My real name…it’s…Anna Marie.”
Remy’s heart, full to nearly bursting a second ago, was now exploding in his chest. “Anna Marie,” he grinned, liking the feel of it in his mouth. “Well, Anna Marie, I’ll say it again, and I hope you believe me when I do. I love you.”
She smiled back at him, letting the tears spill over, and buried her face in his chest as his arms encircled her once more. “I love you, Remy LeBeau.”
He kissed her hair, her shoulders, reveling in the warmth of her body as he held her tightly against his. “My Anna Marie…” he murmured against the top of her head.
“So I guess we’re really doin’ this, huh?” she said, and he laughed, unable to contain the giddy feeling that was building inside him.
“I guess so, chère.”
They walked back toward the mansion together, holding each other close, the light of the moon illuminating their shared path.