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The stalking continued for the rest of the week and Rogue made sure to hit Remy at every chance she got, just so he didn’t think he was getting anywhere.

On Saturday morning she decided to delay her homework till Sunday night, like always, and walk down to the bookstore. She was wandering around the autobiography section to see if any other rock stars who should of died from a drug overdose years ago had strung a couple thoughts together and written a book when she heard his deep voice behind her.

“Bon Jour, Chere.”

Rogue sighed without even looking back. “This whole stalking thing is starting to get creepy, Cajun. Do you got a telescope perfectly positioned to look into my window or something?”
“Non, but that ain’t a bad idea.” Rogue glared at him. “Remy told yah last week Pietro drags him down here.”

Rogue turned around to Remy. “And where is the horny bastard child?”

“In the back yelling at the manager, they won’t sell the manga to him without ID.”

“Looks like he’ll just have to rely on the Internet for his pornographic needs.”

“Looks like it.” Repeated Remy. “Looking for an autobiography, Chere?” He asked.

“Ah, yeah, preferably something along the lines of drugs, sex, and rock’n’roll, got any suggestions?”

“Scar Tissue by Anthony Keidis of the Red Hot Chili Peppers.” Remy said pulling it of the shelf behind Rogue. “Depressing, disturbing and hilarious all at the same time.”

“Oh yeah?” Rogue asked looking at the books cover.

“At one point he talks about sleeping with Cher at thirteen.”

Rogue shivered. “That’s kids gotta be scared for lihfe.”

“So, Chere, when would you like to schedule our second date?” Remy asked.

Rogue looked up at him and glared. “Ah told yah a million tihmes Swamprat-

“That it wasn’t a date, Remy knows, he’s not deaf.”

“Just incredibly stubborn.” Rogue snapped back.

“More like determined.” Remy corrected.

“Whatever you wanna call it, Swamprat, your still the same horny dumb ass.”

“Remy’s not that horny, just when he thinks bout you.”

“Notice you don’t deny dumb ass.”

“C’mon Chere.” Remy grabbed her hand tightly. “Remy knows y’ lihke him.”

Rogue looked up at him. Something about him was pissing her off right now. That he couldn’t just drop it. She swiped her hand away from his.

“Go fuck yourself.” She said as cold as she could before she stomped out of the store. Remy stood still for minute confused. The other day he’d had her in the palm of his hand. And now for some reason she hated him.

Peitro came over to him with the new edition of his manga. “Remy, can you buy this for me? Apparently I’m under age.” He whined.

“Fuck off, Pietro.” He said before he left the store.

xXx

That night Kitty came home to a stereo blasting Nirvana (good anger management music).

“Yah alright, Rogue?” She asked as she came in.

“Yup.” Mumbled Rogue from the blankets of her bed.

“Mind if I turn it down?” Kitty asked as Cobain was screaming ‘rape me’.

“Yup.” Repeated Rogue.

Minutes later Rogue was asleep and Kitty dared to shut off the stereo.

Rogue found herself standing on a ledge of a window on the 99 floor of the Empire State building. The wind was blowing strongly and Rogue was desperately trying to keep her balance. Remy appeared beside her.

“Bon Jour, Chere.” He said smiling.

“Remy?” Rogue asked confused. A gust of wind blew by and Rogue fell. She caught herself, just clutching to the ledge with the tips of her fingers. She was screaming bloody murder.

“What a nice day.” Commented Remy who was sitting on the ledge next to where her fingers were just managing to hold on.

“Remy? What the hell is wrong with you?” She screeched.

Remy shrugged. “Dunno, but apparently the doctor dropped meh in the delivery room.”
Rogue fingers were slipping from the edge.

“Damn it Gambit!” She screeched. Her fingers were about to let go. She grabbed Remy by the leg and they both went plummeting down.
“WEEEE!” Yelled Remy.

Rogue closed her eyes and waiting for the ground. But instead of going splat on the New York pavement they landed softly on a grassy floor.

Rogue opened her eyes. Mississippi! She was lying in a yellow field that sat next to the Mississippi river. Remy who’d been lying in the grass beside her had suddenly become a ten-year-old Tom Sawyer. He grabbed Rogue by the hand and lead her down to the banks of the river.

“Let’s be pirates!” He yelled.

“Okay!” Said Rogue completely over her horror from seconds before. “Only if Ah’m Jack Sparrow.”
“Psh, fine. Barbossa’s better anyway.”

Rogue and Tom climbed onto a raft that had miraculously appeared and continued to bicker of which pirate was better as they floated down the river.

An hour later they reached the shore and had tea with Winston Churchill who was having marital problems with his life partner, Sid Vicious. It seemed Sid had planted daisies in the front lawn instead of pansies like Winston had requested.

Rogue woke up and looked around the dark bedroom. She was a little freaked about what her subconscious was coming up with these days.