History Always Repeats (Rogue)

[Remy LeBeau]

Less then twenty-four hours ago Remy LeBeau was lounging in his house in the south of France, surrounded by gorgeous women and gambling with other men. Life had been good the past three years, having no real problems at all. Through sunglasses Remy could conceal his mutation, and whatever he couldn't conceal or had been spied, money concealed for him. The former X-Man had reverted to his old life of crime as a thief, putting his skills to use once more. Not as organized as when he lived in New Orleans, Remy's new heists were still just as grand, and paid the bills. They also paid for a lavish lifestyle, enough that Remy lived like a king. But that had very quickly become part of his past the second he stepped onto the plane to return to New York, to meet with the people he once lived among.

The news of Sinister had reached France and the rest of the world very quickly, and Remy had seen it. It sent a chill up his spine when he thought of the experiments that the geneticist was up to. Mister Sinister was not a man to be played with, he was true evil, and would stop at nothing until he got what he wanted. This was where Remy came in, or forced himself in at least. He and Sinister had a past, a very dark past, and Remy would not sit by in France as Sinister took over the States, before moving onto the rest of the world.

Many times Remy had thought about calling the institute to warn them of his arrival, but he never did. Instead, his trip to the institute resulted in a few stops along the way, mainly Le Bar Bat. It had been a favorite place of Remy's when he lived here, and was naturally the first place to come back to. The institute and the X-Men had never been his home, his family, they were more like roommates. Sure, Remy had a great relationship with Storm, and he had a fair relationship with Rogue at times, but that was all in the past. Three years in the past. How would those relationships be today? Well, Remy didn't have to worry, both X-Women of his life had moved on, or so Remy had heard. He was told that Storm returned to Africa, and Rogue to the south where she came from. If only he could have followed suit and returned to New Orleans, act as if nothing had ever happened there, but that could not be. So much had happened there, and Remy wasn't about to forget.

So when the thought of the old bar come into his mind, Remy had to follow his instincts to go there. For the first time in nearly five years he was asked to show ID. The bar had a whole new staff, none of them recognized Remy as the man who frequented the place and brought in great business. Then there was the sheer fact that this was America, land of the free but not of the free will, laws saw to that. The next step was new to Remy as well, a fingerprint scanner to ensure that if he was a mutant, he was registered. Is this what America had been reduced to? Apparently so. Yes, Remy had registered himself. He had done it before moving overseas, just in case he ever decided to come back. It had proved to be good thinking on his point.

Once allowed in the bar, Remy looked over the interior, remodeled since he last remembered. Taking a seat in at a table in the back corner, Remy was content to just watch. The dim lighting in the bar made it easy for Remy's dark jeans and black shirt to blend with the shadows, but his unmistakable brown trench coat stuck out. He didn't care, he wasn't looking to spend the night alone anyways.

Observing the dance floor of the bar/club, Remy's eyes drifted to multiple women that he deemed worthy of his attention, being the Casanova that he was. France had only worsened that personality trait. The French language had so many sayings that were perceived as romantic, while they did not translate well to the English. That was another oddity, he was back to speaking English suddenly, after three long years. It didn't prevent Remy from slipping up a few times, speaking French to a bewildered looking American since he arrived.

Standing up, Remy nudged his chair back under the table his with boot before heading to the bar, leaning on it as he watched the bartender take notice and come over. "Gin." Was Remy's only word to the man, as the bartender nodded and proceeded to pour the drink. Once placed in front of him, Remy drank the entire contents of the small glass at once, feeling the all too familiar burn of the liquid on the back of his throat. "Another, si-vous-plait."

[Remy LeBeau]

The music was loud and the alcohol kept coming, just the way Remy liked it. A party-goer at heart, this was where he felt at home and completely at ease, with the exception of museums hours after closing. Downing the second gin, then a third, Remy could briefly feel the early effects of alcohol. When one relied heavily on their senses, alcohol usually wasn't a good mix, but for Remy, he didn't care. It took a lot to get him drunk enough to succumb to the alcohol. "Missing your girl bad?" The bartender asked, pouring Remy another drink. The bartender had seen it millions of times before, except in Remy's case, he was wrong. Remy had no set woman in his life. There was Belle, and Rogue for a brief time after that, but none in the past three years.

"Non, jus' not a fan o' New York City. Southern boy at heart, an' jus' passin' through." Turning slightly to face the dance floor, Remy questioned why he was here again. Yes, to get Sinister. But why here? Did he really need to come back to the X-Men? Or was he just hoping to see her again? No. If Remy could live without Belle, he could live without Rogue. Even though he and Rogue did share something different, it was the past.

"Use t' come here a lot a couple years back. It's changed." Glancing back at the bartender, Remy watched the man nod as he cleaned a glass. It was like a scene out of a movie, except without the bar fight and the bartender pulling out a shotgun or bat. But Remy's attention wasn't on the bartender long as a woman snuggled up to Remy, flashing him a bright smile surrounded by ruby red lips. "No girl? What a shame."

Now this was more Remy's scene. Beautiful brunette on his arm, alcohol, everything was going perfectly. Hopefully it would stay that way all through to the morning, giving Remy another excuse not to return back to the mansion. It wasn't his home. He had no family. He had no reason to return. "Ya gon' make it up t' me, mon chere?" Grinning to the woman, Remy's whole body shifted towards her as the bartender left them alone. "How 'bout we get out o' here, non?"

[Remy LeBeau]

Of course the brunette agreed to go home with Remy, or rather, to a hotel room. He had no place of his own here and wasn't about to return to the mansion with a strange woman on his own. Remy at least respected that they were running a school and used New York's multiple hotels to his advantage. Personally he felt they should have something like frequent flier miles, because Remy had spent a great deal of money there. "Ugh, a mutant." With the registration act passed, there wasn't much for the public to do but deal with them. But Remy's interest was peeked as he followed the gaze of the crowd, his eyes landing first on Rogue's butt before moving up her body enough to recognize her.

"Mon dieu..." Sighing under his breath, Remy knew trouble was about to start. But that's when he really noticed just how much skin she was showing, almost as if she had learned control. Could it be? A lot could happen in three years, but for Rogue to learn control? The next thought to dawn on him was Rogue using her powers in public, something that was illegal due to the registration act now. Pulling his sunglasses off his face, Remy pocketed them as he flashed a smirk to his would-be date, receiving a disgusted look.

Making his way through the crowd, Remy moved to stand in front of Rogue. If the voice hadn't given her away, the signature white hair sure did, and the face. Slightly aged, but not enough to mare her perfect complexion. As always, her skin was ivory white without a hint of tan lines. "Rogue, been a while." What else could he say? Things were getting heated up in here, and Remy wasn't about to get in the middle of a bar fight. They were just tempting for mutants. Turning his back to Rogue, he did the only thing that he knew would really get her attention, he walked away, all the way outside.

No matter how strong she acted, she was still a woman at heart, still curious, leading all the way back to Pandora. Leaning against the wall in the alley, Remy lit up a cigarette with a lighter as he watched people run out of the bar, screaming about a mutant. The U.S. had changed a lot, and Remy realized why he had moved to France, to get away from this mass hysteria. It was the witch trials all over again, just with better technology and clothes. "Come on chere, don' let me down." He whispered to himself, eyes scanning the crowd for Rogue.

[Remy LeBeau]

Of course he saw her fly off, that was what he was trained to do, observe the obscure things that most people never even noticed in their lives. Though the sound of sentinels was deafening, Remy stood his ground, he had no reason to fear those beasts. He was registered, hell, he didn't even use his powers to lit his cigarette like he normally would. He was playing by the rules, for once in his life. Sighing, he wasn't sure what to make of Rogue leaving. What had become of her if she had returned? She sure as hell wasn't adorned in X's anymore, and that thought bothered Remy a bit. Had she not returned to the X-Men? And if not, why was she here anyway?

From the streets the yelling only got louder, some yelling at police, others yelling at the sentinels to find Rogue. Had this really become of New York? People yelling at robots, expecting it to do something? People had become foolish. "What do ya care? Heard ya went home an' never looked back, til now obviously. Why?"

Remy's demonic eyes quickly focused in on Rogue's emerald eyes, wanting to know what was going on. Pushing off the wall, Remy took a step towards her, then another, until he was close to her. After three years she still smelled like fresh cut roses. It instantly made Remy picture the good times they spent together. Staying out all night long and returning in the morning, getting that familiar look from Scott, as if they had done something wrong. It never mattered that they were both adults. Or that Rogue's mutation wouldn't allow for it.

"Nice ass chere, noticed a lot o' skin too. Livin' dangerous now, or have ya learned some control?" Without waiting for an answer, Remy's arm looped around her and pulled her closer. Funny how this time around he was the one all covered up, his clothes were the only barrier between them. "What's happened t' ya Anna?"

[Remy LeBeau]

The past always came back to bite him in the ass. At Rogue's words, Remy's mind pulled him back to the sound of Belle's voice, the anger in it as she yelled at him over leaving her. He had no choice but to leave Belle, and he could never have taken her with him. Her family needed her, being the only heir left, her father depended on her. Taking her away would have ruined that and the two families would have battled it out to the end, once and for all, he was sure of that. And now he stood here with Rogue, the same words reaching his ears, complete with southern drawl.

"Would have loved t' go home, 'cept I had no home." He didn't need to explain himself to her. Yes, he had been one of the first to leave, but that was because he just didn't belong. Rogue had Logan there with her, he didn't think she would have cared that much. It was another point in their relationship that they weren't together and were fighting, so he just left. He found happiness in France, surprisingly.

"Go 'head." Remy challenged her as she held up her hand, as if he was afraid of it. She already knew his deepest secrets, and what more could she learn now? Nothing. Nothing had changed since he moved to France, except that he went back to being a thief. "Ya know why I came back. I know ya watch de news. What 'bout ya? Got tired o' Mississippi? I heard ya went dere first. Why come back here?" Of course she avoided his question, she always avoided his questions. It was hard talking to Rogue, especially after three years of separation. "What was all dat 'bout in de club? Do ya jus' hit everyone ya meet now?"

[Remy LeBeau]

They always had an interesting relationship, and it certainly wasn't a normal one. But when Rogue pulled Remy into the air, his cigarette fell from his hand to the ground as she flew him through the night sky. "I know I don' live here anymore, but ain't dis illegal?" Not that Remy was one to talk about doing illegal things, he just couldn't resist asking Rogue such questions. But leave it to Rogue to do something to bring sentinels running. But again, Remy hadn't used his powers, he wasn't worried. Tonight he just wasn't up for that kind of fight. "I keep tabs on everyone."

For the most part it was true, with his connections, Remy was able to keep tabs on nearly everyone. Once put down at an apartment, Remy's first thought was that it belonged to Rogue. Catching the bottle of water with one hand, Remy twisted off the cap and took a drink as he walked around the apartment, looking in the various rooms. He caught sight of what was clearly a man's jacket, but said nothing. He had no right anymore. "Kill 'im." He was dead serious as he spoke, talking about the one thing Remy never wanted to do again. He had caused the deaths of so many people, and now another? But Sinister was different, and Remy was willing to break his promise to himself just to rid the world of him.

Glancing into the room that was clearly Rogue's bedroom, Remy stepped inside. The bed was perfectly made, all clothes picked up off the floor and in their proper places. The dresser was meticulously kept up, no dust. Walking to the bed, Remy laid down on it, his boots hanging off the edge. For being apart for three years, Remy felt no awkwardness to walking around her apartment, not that he ever would. "Who'd ya get ta take my place Anna? I saw de jacket."

[Remy LeBeau]

John? Remy had heard correctly, he knew he did. He always did. But of all the people, Rogue made it sound like she expected him to care. And he didn't. Even completely engaged to Belle, the two still had their own flings. That's how Remy was brought up, it was who he was. Or so he thought. Sometimes he questioned his own actions, but never really thought very deeply about it. If he did then he would be admitting to himself that he really didn't know himself, and that wouldn't end well. No, he stayed incomplete control of himself at all times. He had to.

Drinking what was left in the bottle, Remy's eyes scanned the bedroom. How many men had laid in this same spot on Rogue's bed? Knowing Rogue in a way that she tried to never allow? But it wasn't his place to care. They had split up, and Remy couldn't even remember why now. What had caused the rift between them before the registration act was passed? He had no idea. But the stress from the political campaigns, were probably to blame.

Getting up, Remy walked soundlessly to the room Rogue was in, watching TV. "If I 'member correctly chere, I nevah kept my hands t' myself when I was here neither." Putting his hands on her shoulders, he squeezed lightly as he spoke. "Aftah all dis time, an' ya jus' wanna watch TV?" He knew the answer to that, but doubted Rogue would admit it, not out loud at least. Their reunion sparked something in her, otherwise he wouldn't be here, he wouldn't have the privilege of knowing where she lived. "Where's John now?" The worst thing that could ever happen was to return to your girl's place and find another guy there, and Remy still wasn't in the mood for a fight.

[Remy LeBeau]

Rogue wanted to pull away at first, Remy had felt it, seen it, but then she gave in. It was like nothing had changed, as if they were just having one of their silly fights with him finally giving in and coming back, apologizing. But the reality reminded Remy that things were very different, though Rogue really hadn't changed. "What, ya wanted ta come? An' do what Rogue? Buy a house an' spend de rest o' our lives toget'er in France? Reality ain't all it's cracked up ta be, an' fact is, I had some unfinished business dere dat I had t' take care o' on my own. Je suis tres desole chere."

The thought of that night in Paris still haunted Remy, but he had to face his demons at some point, and face them he did. He returned to the roof of Notre Dame, to the place of her death, and relived it as if it was happening all over again. Only this time was different, this time both she and Henri were dead in the end. Pulling himself out of his thoughts, Remy took a step away from Rogue and looked around the place once more. For the most part he has instantly committed it to memory, now he was just doing it, to be doing something. That was when Rogue delivered the news to Remy, the thing he was hoping for but wouldn't admit, that 'John' and her were not involved.

"Ya right, he's not, since ya ain't involved wit' him. Surprised? Shouldn't be, ya jus' told me yaself. If ya were wit him den ya would have rubbed in my face, we both know dat. So de next question is why is he leavin' his clothes here? O' have I got it wrong? Did I get it right when I asked if ya learned control? Does he jus' pop over fo' a quickie den take off, tres forgetful?" Now demonic eyes returned to watching Rogue from behind, studying her movements without even seeing her face. He had spent so much time just studying people again, Remy felt more like a human lie detector then ever.

[Remy LeBeau]

Remy had known what buttons to push for many years, and always had a knack of hitting them perfectly every time. She was so easy to upset, a trait that Remy didn't like, feeling that it showed a form of weakness. But Remy's life was far different then Rogue's, it always had been. In his line of work he needed that poker face, he needed to be able to look the police in the eyes and lie to them, walking away without a single shred of evidence against him. "Gonna fight me now?" The way she stood up, glared at Remy, almost like it was a challenge, and it was. It was a challenge for Remy to pick the specific movement that she wanted him to, possibly even hoped he would do.

"Never called a whore, an' wouldn't dream o' it. I know ya better den dat. If anyt'in' I'd call ya lonely, lookin' fo' somet'in' ya believe ain't real, yet deep down ya know it is. But that part o' ya deep down inside ya won' ever admit it, so it'll never surface." Yes, Remy had seen the picture. In fact, Remy moved to it and picked it up, looking at it better. "Ya were happy wit' him, what ya missin'?" Remy's career was built on the fact that he could read people, could almost get inside their heads and know them from the inside out. He looked at Rogue smiling, but it wasn't her truly happy smile, something wasn't completely right about the whole picture.

Then he heard the names of some of the known mutant terrorists that didn't get taken to Neverland. "Is that it? Ya ran away t' join de Brot'erhood? De organization dat got scared an' suddenly disappeared? Ya ain't cut out fo' hidin', ya a fighter. But somet'in' pulled ya in, an' I'm guessin' it was Mystique." Putting the picture back, Remy quickly ended up in front of Rogue, staring down at her and her bare hands again. "T'ree years apart ain't gon' make those threats anymore scary den before. I haven't changed Rogue, I still have energy to burn, lots o' it. More den ever before. Guess dat means I did change, non? When I learned ta master my powers, powers I nearly fo'got I had at one point." Demonic eyes glowing in the dimness of the apartment, Remy wasn't surprised as he both listened to and saw the vase on the other side of the room explode.

[Remy LeBeau]

In this battle, Remy had the height and the bulkier form, but he knew that Rogue had the strength. Though he won the mental fights, he was sure of himself, he knew what he wanted from life, and understood himself completely, In many ways, Rogue was indecisive and contradicted herself. "Den what are ya doin'? What gave ya dat push ta get off de couch an' come face me?" From a spectator's point of view, they never did get along, but in reality, they complimented each other quite nicely. Even down to their eyes, red and green, complimentary colors. Almost as if it was meant to be from the very beginning, yet they never stayed satisfied with their relationship, or lack there of now.

"So he can go ta Russia but I can't go ta France? Sounds like ya got a double standard. O' did I jus' mean more?" There, Remy was sure he had hit it dead on. But would Rogue admit it? Probably not. Rogue very rarely admitted that anyone but her was right about anything, even the smallest of matters. They seemed to hate each other, yet they were drawn to each other, from the very beginning.

"Nevah claimed ta be a saint, but least I don' openly try ta kill people. I may have been raised ta break de law, but I nevah 'greed wit' de Ripper's way o' life, an' I still don'." The Brotherhood disgusted Remy, and he wasn't at all surprised to hear that he was right about Mystique. She was a bad influence. "I don' have any family eit'er Rogue, yet I'm not goin' 'round as a terrorist. Next time try a better excuse."

Looking at her still exposed hand, Remy took it in his partially gloved hand and kissed the back of her hand, feeling the brief connection with Rogue's powers. "Toi et moi- Ça ne changera pas. Qu'est ce que je ferais sans toi?" He probably had lost his mind, but Remy didn't care at the moment. He had come back to rid the world of Sinister, and instead ran into the one that got away, though it was his fault, he was the one who left. Being with Rogue felt naturally, even through all the fights, even after three years. She had sparked something inside himself the day they met, and that flame had never gone out, much to Remy's trying.

[Remy LeBeau]

As much of an adult Rogue was physically, she still had young thoughts. Thoughts that the world was so much less complicated then it really was. His life was complicated, and he was working on things for himself, and not even Rogue could get in the way of that. Yes, he had heard of his brother's death, but had kept that fact to himself. He wouldn't let anyone know how much it hurt, and how much it hurt to stand on top of Notre Dame and look out on Paris, while thinking about the evil that had occured there. "Ya jus' sat dere, on de couch, not lookin' at me, so why turn on me now?"

She wanted to play big tough girl, and Remy was supposed to just accept it. "Dat what dey have ya believin'? Den ya jus' bein' used 'gain, but what does it matter? Long as ya wit' Mystiqe ya don' give a damn what happens an' who gets hurt. She's not ya mot'er Rogue, she took ya in t' use ya, an' she did, an' ya went crawlin' back ta her. She hurts ya, an' ya reward her. How long will it take 'fore I see ya picture on de news, bein' taken off in shackles wit' an inhibitin' collar, 'cause ya killed someone? Not long I imagine. Not when Mystique is involved, or Sabretooth fo' dat matter. Get back ta me aftah ya watch one o' dem kill someone in cold blood."

He had tried, and was just fooling himself. He was Remy LeBeau, tamable only by the princess of the assassins. And even then that didn't work. "Ya talk like I turned my back on ya, but we weren't toget'er when I left. We were fightin' over god knows what, so I left ta go do somet'in' I had ta do. I didn't turn my back on my morals like ya did. I didn't make it a secret 'bout where I went." Turning around, Remy walked to the balcony they had come in through and pulled out a cigarette, lighting it with the tip of his finger.

[Remy LeBeau]

Looking out on the city, Remy already had an escape plan. Jump off the balcony, land on a nearby rooftop, then go from there. He always had an exit strategy, though he rarely used them. This was one of those times where he had no intention of using it, at least not at the moment. Blowing the smoke slowly out of his mouth, Remy's eyes watched it dissipate into the air, mixing in with everything else that floated around. Within seconds it was gone, carried away by the wind. It was slightly chilly out, but that didn't bother Remy, with his coat on and energy always coursing it's way through his body, he stayed warm easily.

Love? She wanted to know if he loved her, ever. Of course he had, but love wasn't on Remy's side, it never was. He seemed to have all the luck in the world, but when it came to love...his lucky lady suddenly disappeared, leaving him very much alone. Inhaling and exhaling the cigarette smoke again, Remy was slightly surprised when Rogue came to him. She hated the habit, he knew it, but she never complained. One of the nice things about Rogue. If she asked him to stop, he probably would, at least, he would have back when they were together.

But now, face to face with her, Remy was put on the spot. Pulling the cigarette from his mouth, Remy charged it and flicked it into the air, exploding seconds later. "Rogue...ya ask as if ya uncertain, like ya nevah knew one way o' de ot'er...dats a bit sad really. I play fast an' loose wit' many t'ings... but never wit' votre coeur. Never wit' your heart. Your heart. It means more t'me than my own. You choose not to see dat, it's your loss." Demonic eyes met emerald eyes, both penetrating to the soul as a gloved finger brushed a white strand out of Rogue's face. In every way they seemed opposites, sharing both a lot and very little in common, yet they always seemed the perfect pair. Remy had a mind like a steel trapped, unable to get into, yet Rogue seemed to read it like a book at times, without the use of her powers.

[Remy LeBeau]

Everything about her actions proved that Rogue hadn't forgotten him, though Remy hadn't expected her too. She was the one who couldn't touch, who couldn't have a real relationship, if anyone was going to forget, it would be him. Yes, there had been lots of women in France, but that didn't mean anything. When he first came to New York there had been lots of women, and still he remembered Belle, the real one who got away, the one Remy would never know about. Sure, it was more then likely that they would have ended up divorced anyway, but they never had the chance to try, it was over in a single day. But Rogue was different, Rogue was always around in the end, and never off-limits in the way that Belle ended up.

But Belle was all in his past now, and she'd never be coming back, at least, Remy hoped not. Though Rogue, Rogue was here, now, and in his arms. Wrapping his arms around Rogue, Remy lightly kissed the top of her head, her hair protecting him from her powers. It didn't feel like 3 years had passed, instead it felt just the same as when they first got together, once Rogue opened up to the idea and realized that Remy wasn't afraid of her. He had never been afraid.

"I had t'ings I needed t' do, t'ings I should have taken care o' long 'fore now. Everyone goin' dere separate ways, dat jus' left me wit'out an excuse ta put it off any longer. I expected ta come back here an' see t'ings had changed, but I never expected ta come back an' find ya workin' fo' de ot'er side." Remy never believe fully in the dream of Xavier's, but he didn't believe in the Brotherhood's thoughts either. Good was always better in this situation, though Remy also enjoyed being without a team, not having someone looking over his shoulder all the time, blaming him for stealing things. Though it wouldn't come as any shock that Remy had returned to his thieving ways when in France.

[Remy LeBeau]

"What files? De registered mutant files? I'd hope not, den innocent mutants who registered would turn up as unregistered. Files t' set dem back? It's already gone too far fo' dat now. Savin' de world ain't easy, an' usually turns out worse den 'fore. Genosha was a good idea o' Magneto's. 'Course his intentions ain't all he says, but still good none de less. Sometimes it's jus' better ta jus' comply, 'stead o' makin' trouble dat every mutant has ta pay fo' later. De X-Men an' Brot'erhood are de reasons fo' de registration act, an' dem alone. Now look at what's happened. Dat's one o' de reasons why I left."

He didn't want to stay around and watch the U.S turn into a militaristic country, ruled by a dictator. No, Remy just wanted a calm life. A place where he could go continue on his family's traditions and live in peace, without having to worry about other people. And yet, here he was, back in New York. Rogue's words then pulled him away from his thoughts, her words never slipped by him, but then again, no one's words ever really did. Was this what was going to happen? They'd make up this fast, one night after three years of separation. And then what? He'd promise her he wouldn't leave again? Stay the night? Go down the path they had gone down so many times before? Of course.

"I won' leave chere." The night had gone from a few drinks in his favorite New York bar to standing in Rogue's apartment telling her that he'd never leave her again. He had gotten himself into a lot of jams in his life, but this would be the worst if he messed it up. Hopefully their relationship would work out, Rogue had always been challenging, in a good way. They always did seem to be the perfect pair, always together, a king and his queen. When they did missions together it was as if they read each others mind, moving perfectly in sync without even a word spoken.

[Remy LeBeau]

The infamous kiss of the siren, or kiss of death as many would put it. Rogue always was hard to kiss, and not because of what her powers did, but because her lips were so soft, just like her skin. So much un-use left it silken and pleasing to the touch, but that was the double-edged sword that was Rogue, because one couldn't just touch her, no, one had to have extreme amounts of patience. Luckily, however, Remy had loads of patience after countless nights of just crouched, waiting during one of his heists.

But with pleasure came pain, the feeling of his energy being sucked straight out of his body, a feeling that Remy knew he would never get used to. Releasing his hold on Rogue, Remy grabbed the banister behind him to steady himself. "Oui, jus' been a while since I had dis little energy." A bit lightheaded, Remy knew she had seen his years in France, she always saw. But what did she see? Did she see Genevieve? See the homage Remy had paid the sweet girl the minute he was back in Paris? Or the flashbacks of her dying in Remy's arms? The knowledge that she died over a pendant? So many demons laid in wait in Paris, ready to suck Remy into a spiraling depression, did she see them?

Looking to Rogue's now red eyes, Remy could feel the return of his energy. Slow, but it was returning none the less. His body just wasn't built to be normal. "Dey are diff'rent. Be tres careful chere, dere much, much more powerful den ya remember." He had tried to tell her, inside the apartment. Had tried to show her by blowing up a vase all the way across the room, but she had barely seemed to notice. So many people over-looked Remy as a normal mutant, but he knew differently, he knew his true power. Though the thought sent Remy into his own flashbacks, his Tante's words popping into his mind like they had done so many times in the past three years.

Do any of 'em even realise the danger dey're in if dey push you too far? Do any of 'em know evert'ing dat crosses yo' path is only alive 'cause you choose t' let 'em stay dat way? He had always thought her too worried, too untrusting in his beliefs of a thief, but he knew that he had it inside him to kill. Everyone did, but Remy's had surfaced twice before. Hell, he could charge organic matter now, he could charge humans. But that realization pushed him back into the present. "I know it's hard ta resist, but try not ta touch when ya have my new powers...I can charge organic matter now."