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Warnings: Mature themes throughout the story, dealing with rape, torture and the psychological traumas of imprisonment in a concentration camp. Sexually explicit scene in Chapter 23.

Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Author's Notes



Remy studies Rogue's room, his mind clicking through possibilities. Sprinkler heads run the length of the ceiling. Easy enough to rig with explosives. Use adamantium for the shrapnel. Rewire the outlets and connect the live wires to every bit of metal in the room. Sudden inspiration. He could rewire the security system and rig the entire mansion.

Dat what you wan'--Rogue's death?

He's surprised at his hesitation in answering. An image of Rogue flashes to mind. Not of her indulging him at the wedding. Not even of her flying lazily through blue summer skies. This Rogue is a woman who has been beaten, raped and left for dead by the Genoshans. He remembers feeling for her pulse. The cold fear gripping his gut until he felt the faint, steady beat.

He stares at his reflection in the bureau mirror. His fingers trace a too-prominent collarbone. Sunken eyes. Hollow cheeks. A body starved for affection, craving the healing touch of a lover. A soul torn between wanting the smallest gesture of support and needing release from consuming pain.

His eyes flick to Rogue's smiling photo. His hand tightens on the frame. He remembers her scream. Remembers the long hours of waiting and worrying. Whether Rogue was restlessly asleep or sluggishly awake, he had waited by her side. His hands soothed the aches from her muscles. His room offered her solace. He was the one she had turned to in her time of need.

So where was she now that he needed her?

Remy watches the silver glow beneath his fingertips, feels the same icy glow in his own heart. His anger explodes even as the charged frame explodes into the bureau mirror, sending a shower of glass splinters spraying across the room.

I was *dere* for you, girl!

"Seven years o' bad luck, sugah."

Rogue steps up behind Remy, seeing both of their reflections in the fractured glass. He lifts his eyes to hers, but says nothing. Tension knots his shoulders.

"Ya hurt?"

He turns slowly, revealing more in that movement than words could ever say.


Rogue's throat tightens with emotion, sensing the underlying meaning in his understated response. Remy's eyes light briefly with interest as he notices the Genoshan collar on Rogue's neck.

"Why you wearin' dat?"

"One o' Hank's experiments--"


Rogue bites her lip against her slip of tongue, but it's too late. Remy clenches his jaw at the mention of "experiments".

"Ah reckon ah'd best get this mess cleaned up. Let me get the glass, Cajun. It won't hurt me."

Rogue leaves as quickly as she arrived. Remy watches, until he catches another reflection. A sliver of glass near the open closet door reveals a wedding dress on a padded hanger. Also on the hanger is a small pouch. Remy grins to himself. Inside the pouch are the courting rings of Rogue's grandparents. Not worth much, as far as money goes, but priceless in Rogue's eyes.

De glass won' hurt you, eh, *chere*? Don' mean you as invulnerable to ev't'ing as you like t'think.

Remy's fingers nimbly pry open the bag and slip a ring into his robe pocket. An envelope flutters to the carpet. It's crisp, recently mailed. Remy flicks it open. A letter. From Rogue to her father. He glances again at the envelope. It was returned--"Refused". Her father's black signature scrawls across the white paper, leaving no doubt that he sent it back. The decision is made. Remy can't bring himself to kill Rogue, but he will have his revenge.

He pads down the hall back to his room, feeling a sense of purpose he hasn't felt in months. He steps inside as one steps from shadow into sunlight and sees the change in himself reflected in Tseidel's questioning eyes.

His fingers brush the envelope in his pocket. Sinister's words come back to him. He knows who his friends are. He sees Tseidel clearly for the first time in months. She needs help. The X-men could offer her so much, if he would only let them. He takes Tseidel's chin in his hands, his face softening with a mixture of concern and regret that he's put his own pettiness above her well-being.

"In de camps, we promised t'be lookin' out for each other. Y'been lookin' t'me for answers an' I ain't been takin' care a business, p'tite. Hush, now. T'morrow we try an' do dis right."

He lays her head back on the pillow, tucking the comforter in close.

"Trust me."


Continued in Chapter 16.


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