I do not own X-Men: Evolution or Marvel in any way, shape, or form. All I own is my idea. Please do not sue me, for it will just be a waist of time and money in trying to find a lawyer. Thank you.

Discovery

'Where am Ah?'

Slowly, as to not aggravate her already excruciating headache even further, Rogue sat up and gently massaged the temples of her forehead, making small, smooth, repetitive circles. Grasping hold of what she thought was her nightshirt she normally slept in, she wiped the sweat from her brow, soon realizing from the feel of the material that it wasn't her regular attire, but another that consisted of a tight, partially see-through, black camisole that ceased to cover up her midriff and a pair of black shorts that clung tight to her upper-thigh. 'These aren't mah clothes,' she thought.

A gasp escaped from her mouth as she suddenly felt a tickle around her waist. Bravely, Rogue looked to the opposite side of the bed where she had seemingly slept in for the night. Beside her laid a man in his early twenties, with his hands wrapped possessively around her. The man was very handsome with his auburn hair, beard, and goatee that made him look more mature than he probably was. But of course, she would never admit her thoughts to anyone. Doing so could forever ruin her reputation.

"Wait chère," he mumbled in his sleep. His nose twitched a bit and Rogue strongly resisted the urge to giggle, as he somewhat resembled a bunny rabbit. "Remy don' want y' t' leave him, yet."

Like a ghost with hardly any movement and zero sound, she grabbed the closest thing next her, which happened to be an alarm clock that sat on her nightstand, and smacked 'Remy' over the head with it as hard as she could to just confuse him for awhile. He promptly darted up in a panicky manner as soon as the said object came in contact with his head. He rubbed the spot on his scalp where he had been hit and muttered something in French that Rogue couldn't understand, and probably didn't want to. "What did y' do that fo', chère?" he asked her innocently.

'Crap. He's even bettah looking when he's awake.' Rogue put her fists on her hips and eyed him angrily, putting on her tough girl attitude. "Ah don't know who ya think ya are, but no one evah touches meh without mah permission. An' Ah mean no one. Got it, sugah?" she said seriously, her words almost like poison to the young man's ears. She picked up the alarm clock from where it had landed and hurled it at him again, but he easily dodged it.

'Remy' stood up and faced her from the opposite side of the bed, using his height as an advantage to look down on her and possibly give her a bit of a scare. "Remy don' seem t' 'member y' either, but y' don' see him hittin' y' o'er de side of de head. Dat really hurt, chère. But Remy guesses he c'n forgive y' seein' as y' called him 'sugah'," he said. There was a moment of silence as the two studied each other carefully, occasionally shooting a glare at the other that could probably kill if sustained long enough.

"Ah assume ya name is Remy. Am Ah correct?"

"Oui. Remy LeBeau t' be exact. An' what might de belle femme's name be?"

"It's really none of ya business, but if ya must know, it's Rogue."

"That's a funny name, chère."

"So is ya's, Swamp Rat."

"Judging by y' accent, Remy t'inks y' were raised down in de South, Mississippi maybe?"

"Remy 't'inks' right."

"So, y're a River Rat."

"At least rivers are cleaner than swamps."

Rogue grabbed a pair of familiar black slacks from the headboard of the bed and slipped them on after turning around so she could have the sense of a bit of privacy. "Why were ya in bed with meh? An' bettah yet, why aren't ya dead, or at least in a coma?" she asked as she pulled on a dark purple sweater that contrasted well with her skin tone. She turned back around to face him and tapped her foot impatiently.

"Remy t'inks it was y' who got in de bed wit' Remy. An' de other question, Remy has non idea what de answer is," he said slyly. He picked up his t-shirt from the floor and buttoned it up. He snapped the buckle of his blue jeans and grabbed his brown trench coat out of the giant walk-in closet the hotel provided and put it on, fixing hit to make him look even more suave. He reached down into his pocket and pulled out a pair of black sunglasses and a deck of cards that he repeatedly shuffled after he covered his red on black pupils that entranced Rogue so much, she forgot to retort.

She shook herself out of her shock and quietly whispered, "Are ya a mutant?"

Remy nodded his head in response. "Let Remy guess; chère is one too."

"Stop calling meh 'chère'. An' yes, Ah am." Rogue then sat down on the bed and began to tie up her black boots when she noticed a shiny piece of jewelry on her left handand on her ring finger, besides. 'No. It couldn't be,' she repeated to herself over and over again in her mind. All the previous events of the night before and a few other days back flooded back to her remembrance, overtaking her for a moment.

It was her eighteenth birthday. Unwillingly, she had been sent on a mission with Scott and Jean to recruit a new mutant whose powers had just manifested and could be fatal to himself and others. What a great birthday present. The particular mutant happened to live in France, so Scott flew the X-Jet and the whole way there, the two lovebirds drooled over each other endlessly. After spending a few days trying to change the young boy's mind, Rogue began to get bored and decided to visit the bar where the legal drinking age was eighteen, as well as the marriage age.

She ended up drinking a little too much and getting a slight hangover. Remy was also there at the time and also drunk. He heard her in the bathroom, barfing up a storm, and helped her out a little. The two hit it off immediately, and in about two hours, decided to elopeof course, neither were in their right minds. Next thing they both knew, they were married under the Justice of the Peace and had reserved a hotel room to sleep in for the rest of the night.

"We're married," she said disgustedly. She ripped the diamond ring off of her finger and threw it over to Remy who caught it with ease.

It then dawned on him what had happened the night before. He looked down at his ring questioningly before flopping down on the bed. Remymaster thief and playerwas married. When had that happened? "Remy's t' young t' get married!" he exclaimed.

Rogue pondered about how she would break the news to everyone, especially Logan. At eighteen, you were supposed to be adult enough to choose your decisions carefully. Instead, she got drunk and married, all on the same night. No, she couldn't bear to tell everyone. They all expected more of her, especially since she was an X-Man. They made no mistakes.

So, instead of telling the truth, she would come up with a lie to tell for the time being. 'Yeah. That'll work.' She stood up and faced Remy, hovering over him as his head was lowered between his legs where he took long, deep breaths to keep himself from fainting. "Let's just pretend that this nevah happened," she suggested calmly. "Nothing shall evah be spoken. No one has ta now." She held out her hand in efforts of making a truce between her and the absolute stranger. She didn't like what she was doing, but it had to be done. He shook her hand and it was agreed.

She turned around an marched out the door with her purse draping over her shoulder, not noticing that as she exited the room, Remy slipped the ring and a piece of paper into her pocket with his phone number and address written on it.

- That's it. If you haven't already guessed, yes, Rogue can control her powers. How? It's a secret. You'll find out later. Also, I am not discontinuing "Meeting the Parents". I am working on it as we speak. Buh bye. xmengirlzrule -