This is just a little one-shot I found in an old notebook. (It's much better than it was, I assure you.) I would be pleased to know that just one person gained a brief amount of joy by reading it. So, you know, go ahead and review:)

Disclaimer: I still can't talk Wade into returning my copy-right papers. I'm currently starting a fund to buy them back. (which is how I got him to steal them for me in the first place.) If you'd like to donate to said fund, please contact me via the nice lengthy review you were about to leave anyway, or a PM. So, no, at the moment, I do not own anything but the plot.

It was just after three o'clock in the morning. And what a miserable morning it was; the skies were dark with gray clouds, and pouring with icy rain. The trees swayed and the mansion creaked as the chilling wind blew.

One occupant at Xavier's institute was particularly restless this night, evident by the fact she was sitting alone outside by the edge of the cliffs on the grounds' perimeter.

Rogue had always had trouble sleeping due to nightmares, but following the whole "Apocalypse" incident, she got virtually no shut-eye. Everything about it had shook her up.

She knew it wasn't her fault she'd released the monster. Honestly, she did. But the guilt was still there, even after she had been the one to finally help defeat him. Even if she didn't feel responsible for the near end-of-the-world-as-we-know-it scenario, there was still the matter of Mystique.

Hadn't she learned, even though Mystique was a liar and a user, somewhere deep down she truly loved Rogue and had the best intentions for her? Hadn't she known that some minuscule part of her had honestly wanted to keep Rogue in her life? And yet Rogue was willing to end hers in an instant. It wasn't even like it was some epic battle. She just murdered her in cold-blood. Just like that. Mystique never stood a chance, it's not like she could have defended herself and fought back. So what if she hadn't actually killed Mystique? She would have had things been different.

That was why she was currently sitting on the muddy ground, in only her flannel pajamas, a pair of socks, a fleecy hoody, and her signature gloves, as she overlooked the waves crashing violently onto the rocky cliff. The very spot she had tried to kill the closest thing she'd ever had to a mother for a good portion of her life.

True, she could have sat in the gazebo where it all went down, but she felt she didn't deserve it. Besides, the biting chill that had settled itself over her was a welcome sensation compared to the steadily growing numbness she'd been feeling most recently.

She was so lost in her thoughts, she almost didn't even hear the approaching footsteps until a moment before their owner sat down beside her.

"Hey, chere, a little chilly out here, non?" She knew it was Remy. About a month after the "Apocalypse incident" he had shown up on their front door step, looking for a place to be. She could tell something was wrong down south, but she'd never bothered to ask him, figuring she was very unlikely to get an answer.

His tone, however, wasn't the usual cocky, playful tone so characteristic of him; instead it was solemn, and, almost, concerned.

"What do ya' want, Swamp Rat?" She asked, never bothering to change her position to look at him. She was hoping her voice would be strong and steady, but at the last syllable it cracked just enough to cause her to silently swear.

"What's wrong, petite?" His attempt at making eye contact failed.

"Nothin'. Why would there be?" Her voice, this time, was stony.

The Cajun's response was to sigh wearily and place an arm around her. She flinched violently, standing up quickly.

"Where ya' goin', chere?"

"You're right, it's chilly." Was all she said as she began walking toward the mansion.

He jogged to catch up. "I jus' came out an' got soaked t' da bone, an' am now freezin' my ass off f'r ya', an' ya' won't even tell me why?"

That caused her to stop. After a pause wherein she anxiously bit her lip, she told him harshly. "Ah didn't make ya' do somethin' so stupid. It's not my fault." Like so much else is. She silently thought.

"An' yet I did anyway." His hand went to touch her shoulder, but he quickly withdrew, afraid he might once again scare her off. "C'mon, chere. Ya' know ya' can talk t' me."

Finally, her eyes met his and she found herself unable to look away, no matter how much she wanted to.

"Ah-" She swallowed. "Ah know Ah can."

"Den why doncha', hein?" His red eyes were even more piercing in the dark, especially being filled with such concern.

At last able to break away, she shook her head then continued toward the mansion. He grabbed her wrist, immediately getting a hissed, "Don't touch me" and the automatic jerking back that went with it. His grip only tightened.

"Chere, Remy be willin' t' sit in da rain an' die o' pneumonia if ya'll talk t' him."

"Thank you, really. But Ah'm fine, Gambit." She told him.

"Remy," He instantly corrected as he had so many other times, but for some reason, this time was different. It actually had gotten through to her and left her feeling strange.

"Ah-Ah jus' really wanna' go to bed right now, please." Her voice lost all the defiant air she'd had before and now she was desperately pleading with him.

"Den ya'll pretend dis never happened in da mornin'. Please, chere. Ya' must see dat I care 'bout ya'. I jus' want ya' t' be happy, an' I ain't seen dat yet."

"Remy..." She finally begged.

"Chere, please, what's wrong?"

"Why can't ya' jus' leave me alone like everybody else?" She asked, her walls caving in more and more.

"'Cause I don't buy your bull-shit act like everybody else." He told her flatly, his grip tightening as she once again attempted to escape.

"It doesn't matter.''

"Don't give me dat. What's wrong?" He repeated, this time a little more forcefully, seeing as how nothing else was getting through to her.

She sighed, running her free hand through her hair and un-plastering it from her face. "Let's jus'-Let's jus' go inside, ok? Ah'm freezin'..."

"D'accord." Remy led them both inside, and up to her room so she could change from her wet clothes. His ear was pressed against the door to ensure she didn't try to leave through the window or something. Once she was mostly dry but for her hair, he silently led her through the halls to the boys dormitories so he could re-dress, making her stay in his room with him while he did so. (She'd turned her back to him even though he invited her to watch.)

Once that was through, he took them down to the kitchen where he made his infamous home-made hot chocolate. (The recipe courtesy of his Tante Mattie.)

He silently handed her a mug of the steaming beverage and guided her to the island in the middle of the kitchen where they sat on the bar stools.

"What's wrong, chere?" His gentleness had returned in stronger proportions than what he had started with.

Rogue pensively stared into her mug for several moments, before finally sighing and murmuring, "It's stupid..."

"Let me be da judge o' dat. What is it?"

She once again stared wordlessly, only this time out the window, before quietly responding, "It's jus'-... A lot's happened, ya' know?"

He didn't push her, or even reply, waiting for her to continue on her own.

"Ah mean, all that shit with my powers an' Risty an' stuff, then Mesmero an' Apocalypse, an'... Ah thought Ah'd killed her, ya' know? An' the worst part is, Ah didn't even care for a while. Ah was glad Ah did sometimes..." She trailed off, her eyes growing watery, making her feel like an idiot.

She shrugged, trying to regain her tough demeanor and stated perhaps a little too forcefully. "It doesn't matter, though. It's over.''

"If it bothers ya', chere, den it does matter." He told her quietly, placing his hand on hers. He hated the flinch he received, but was pleased when she didn't pull away (or really acknowledge it at all.)

She sighed after several minutes, standing up and mumbling, "Ah should go."

Remy's hand shot out for her wrist as he simply questioned, "Why?"

The young girl faltered, "It-It's better if Ah do."

"Non, ma cherie, c'mon. We catch somethin' on TV, hein?" He suggested getting to his feet as well.

She hesitated again, casting a wary glance around as she softly said, "Ah-Ah don't know."

"C'mon. Remy'll be on good behaviour, he promises."

After yet another pause, she nodded and allowed him to guide her to the Rec Room.

Remy planted himself leisurely on the couch, gently pulling Rogue down next to him. She remained tense as he wrapped his arm around her, but, surprisingly, didn't object. Once a few minutes had passed, she finally relaxed into him.

They'd been watching a Sit-Com that Remy had turned on when he softly called, "Chere?"

"Yeah?" Came her almost inaudible response.

"Ya' know ya' can talk t' me, hein? Ya' didn't say much back dere, an' I'm always willin' t' listen."

She nestled her head against his chest and murmured, "Ah know... An' Remy? Thank you."

"Every time, chere," He whispered kissing the top of her head.

Meh. So it's not super-exciting. I hope you still enjoyed it though:) I hope the title's okay. Anyone who's read my works most likely knows how much I loathe coming up with the stupid title. I'm open to suggestions if you happen to have something better:)
If you were wondering, the main reason it's "T" is because it says "sh*t" twice, and I wasn't sure whether or not that merited "K+" or "T"

*Aherm*

Reviews are wonderful; beautiful and sweet
To receive even one, is quite the feat.
I'd love to hear just what you thought
If I get no feedback, then 'tis all for naught

There you go. My infamous poem encouraging you to review. I hope you liked it, I worked on it for a whole minute. So, you know, Take its advice:)