Title: Bitter Loss
Author: Personage
Warnings: Character death suicide mentioned. Fairly dark, possible SI triggers.
Rating: M/R
Summary: One mistake. An innocent mistake, and a life is shattered, destroyed. Irrepairable. Coping is the only thing left. He won't give in, not like she did. He won't hurt them like she hurt him...
AU Rogue/Gambit implied. End-pairing undecided.

It had started with a simple touch. Everything did, she mused, but this time, it had started a chain reaction of catastrophes. Catastrophes that lead up to this moment.

Ororo Munroe was a fairly collected woman. Always had been, since she'd learned that her emotions controlled the very weather around her. The potential for disaster had been too great, and she'd learned to mask everything. She felt it, but she did not let it show.

But right now, the weather outside reflected the bitter, silent tears on her cheeks, a simple rainstorm, no thunder, no lightning, and only very mild wind.She was sitting, back against the wall, knees tucked up to her chest, on the floor of her room, the loft at Xavier's. The room was dark, no unnatural lights currently turned on, relying on the gray-blue light from the rainy afternoon to light it.

It had been a year ago, that this had all started. No, she supposed, it had been before that. Three years ago, when Remy LeBeau arrived at the mansion. He'd immediately fallen -hard – for the resident Southern Belle. The resident Untouchable Southern Belle. He was her best friend, even then, and she'd warned him nothing would come of it.

Something had. Rogue had managed to control her abilities that made her a danger, control them, and start a normal life with the Cajun charmer. He'd been absolutely ecstatic. They'd been married not even a month after she'd controlled her powers.

A year ago, Ororo had been told that Rogue was pregnant by an overwhelmingly happy Remy. She'd been happy for them, finally believing that the young man's strain of hardship and bad luck was over for his life. That he was finally going to be happy.

But it wasn't to be. Of course not. People didn't just live happily ever after – that was for stories. No, Rogue had lost the babies. Babies. Twins. She'd sunk into a state of depression no one had ever seeneven her in before. She'd confessed only to Ororo that she'd only had one chance for children – her body couldn't handle it. To this day, Ororo had told no one of that - not even Remy.

Remy had moved along okay, as well as one could have expected him to, and tried in vain to keep his beloved wife out of her downward spiral. He suggested she get help – she responded by saying there was nothing wrong with her.

He'd come to her the day he found Rogue cutting herself. He'd been a wreck, letting own the ever-present façade and simply crying with her, letting her comfort him. He'd been lost, helpless. Ororo had been hard pressed not to hate the girl for what she was doing to her "brother", but her concern for her kept that from becoming an issue.

A month later, she got a call from the local police department. Rogue had shot herself. Remy was in a state of shock – apparently he'd witnessed it, but he refused,or was unable to tell anyone what he'd seen. His entire psyche was shattered. Ororo had brought him to Xavier's again, brought him home with her, and tried to care for him.

Now, it had been several months. He was still not himself, still almost an empty shell of what he had been. His nightmares kept him perpetually awake from fear. She had to wonder what Rogue had been thinking, letting him see what she'd done.

Collecting her emotions, the rain outside stopped, and she used one dark hand to wipe the tears off her face. Rising, she moved to the skylight, and pushed it open, lifting out. She needed to be outside.Once on the roof, she discovered she was not alone. Her "brother" sat there, drenched, a soggy cigarette forgotten in one hand. He glanced up with dim red eyes, and offered a ghost of a smile to her.

"Don' cry ov'r m', chere." he murmured, looking back out over the mansion's grounds, "Bes' one'a us b'happy, non?"

She took a seat beside him. "I cannot be happy when you are like this, Remy. I worry, you know that."

"Don'. 'M fine."

She leaned her head against his shoulder, her arm lifting to slip behind him, around his shoulders. "I wish I believed you, my friend."

Silenced reigned for a while, before he spoke again.

"She tol' m't'leave."

She turned her head to look at him. Only the side of his face was properly visable, but she could see the pain in his eyes, and knew he was about to say something he'd told no one, not even the police.

"I tol' her I couldn'. Dat I loved 'er. She tol' m'if I did, I'd leave. I'd let 'er…"

A pause. A shaky breath. She rubbed her hand on his shoulder gently.

"I didn' realize...what she w's doin'. I t'ought de gun w's t't'reat'n m' wit'." he said, tipping his head down slightly. "I didn' see it comin'. De nex' t'ing I know, 'M cov'rd in 'er blood…"

His voice broke, and she felt him start shaking. She simply held him tighter.

"Remy, if you want to stop –"

"Non. S'fine. I..sh'd'a tol' y'befo'." He responded with a quick shake of his head. "Migh' nev'r tell an'one if I don' d'it now."

She wasn't sure how to read the words he'd just said, but she nodded, and let him speak.

"She js' put de gun up, turn'd – I guess she didn' wan' m'seein' 'er face…b't de way she w's turn'd…" a pause for a shaky breath. "Her blood…she spray'd it all ov'r m'. I couldn'...S't'much t'rememb'r. S'what I keep seein', in m'dreams. Her blood all ov'r m'. S'm'fault."

Ororo felt tears stinging her eyes, and thunder rumbled gently overhead, ad she wrapped both arms around her friend. He was crying, broken sobs she hated to hear from someone as strong as he. It's almost wrong to hear him crying, to see him like this.

"Remy. It wasn't your fault. There was nothing you could have done."

"Could'a made 'er see someone. Gott'n help…"

"No, Remy. You know she wouldn't have allowed that. She wouldn't have allowed help."

"I did dis t'er. I didn' mean t', 'Ro. I nev'r mean' f'any'a dis t'…"

The first raindrops started to fall, cold, thick drops. She felt him shudder slightly, and looked up at him. His head was turned skyward, and the look in his eyes was hollow, empty.

"'M tired, 'Ro. Tired'a feelin' dis way. Tired'a wakin' up c'nfused, scared, try'n'a feel 'er presence, tryin'a find'er…" his voice was low, and he turned his dimmed eyes to her face. "I don' know what t'do an'more."

"I'm here, Remy. I'm not going to let go of you. You'll get out of this."

"Not sure I wan' t', in a way. Don' ev'r wan' take what happ'n'd lightly, chere. I love 'er. Loved. Merde."

He moved away from her, standing, and she rose with him, eyeing him, as the rain kept falling.

"I need t'sleep. 'M gon' see if Hank's got somet'in'…Somet'in' t'make m'sleep wit'out de dreams. Merci, Stormy."

"Always, my friend." She responded, reaching a hand out to him, grasping his for a moment, before letting go, and following him inside. Once within the mansion, he moved off towards the lower levels, while she stayed in her room, no longer crying, but still letting the rain continue to fall evenly.

Hours later, the rain had stopped, and she was moving silently own the hall, heading downstairs to the Danger Room for her session. She paused by a door, and silently opened it, peeking inside.

Remy was curled up on his bed, arms around a pillow tightly. He was sleeping soundly, she noted, and smiled to herself. Maybe he'd recover from this after all, like she constantly insisted he would. Maybe.

Closing his door, she resumed walking down the hall, unaware of his eyes opening to stare at the door, unaware of the fact that he'd been feigning sleep when she opened the door. She didn't see the tears in his eyes, or see him brush them away moments after they fell. Didn't see him open, and then take another drink from the bottle that lay concealed beneath the pillow he held, didn't see him finish it, and lower it off the back of the bed carefully to rest on the floor.

He was coping. He wasn't getting better, not really. But he couldn't let her see that. She was so convinced she'd been able to help, convinced that all he needed was time, care, and the knowledge that he was still worth something to her, and to the rest of the X-Men.

These things helped, yes, but he couldn't recover. It was like cutting off a limb – the wound would eventually close up, scar over, or whatever – but you didn't grow the arm back. Not unless you were Logan.

Rogue had been irreplaceable to him. Losing her…it had torn his heart out. Not the physical one – no, that one was still beating it's dull, steady rhythm. Not that heart, but the other one – his soul, really. His essence – everything that made him who he was - was now gone.

Well. Not everything.

He still had people to live for. He wasn't going to give in, not like Rogue had. He couldn't let himself fall that far. He couldn't hurt others the way Rogue had hurt him.

Oh, he knew she hadn't meant to hurt him. That hadn't been what she wanted. She'd wanted to get away from the insanity she'd been suffering under alone, refusing to let him in. It was only normal, this distance she'd forced upon them – whenever she was scared, or hurting, she refused to take solace in him, in anyone. She was too much of a loner for that.

He, on the other hand, always moved closer to those around him – when applicable – during a crisis. Usually only a trusted few, but he relied on them. Needed them there to reassure himself that everything was fine.

One of only a few ways they weren't perfectly matched for eachother, he mused, one of the few, but the most painful, for sure. He wished he could have helped her.

Dieu, he wished he could go back so badly…

The tears in his eyes went ignored as they started falling down his cheeks, but his expression remained neutral.

He'd have been able to do something if he'd realized…if he'd realized how serious it had been. He'd assumed she was simply depressed, angry with him for not making her stick to the bed rest she'd been given by the doctor. How could he have known it would cost them everything? How could he have known that one night, one simple date – dinner and slow, normal dancing – would turn out…like this?

His door opened, and his eyes locked on the person entering. Ororo, carrying a vase with a flower in it. One of her roses, from her garden.

"I thought you were asleep."

He shrugged. "Nah, still can'."

She eyed him for a moment. "Did you ask Hank for assistance?"

His own eyes dropped. "Non. Couldn'…'M afraid t'sleep, 'Ro…"

She set the vase and rose down on the nightstand, and sat on the edge of the bed, facing sideways, but her face turned towards him. "Why?"

"I don' know." He responded honestly. "Ev'n if I didn' have nightmares…I jus' don' wan' sleep."

"But you must, Remy. You can't handle this much longer. You haven't slept in days, from the look of you."

"Try weeks."

"Remy…"

"I know. 'M sorry, I hate makin' y'upset…"

"It only upsets me because I care about you. You are like a brother to me. The brother I never had. …I cannot lose you too."

The last part is added softly, and though her voice remained calm, and the weather did not change, her sincerity was still blatantly obvious to Remy, even without his empathy. He reached over, taking her hand. She squeezed his gently, with a small smile.

"I will send Hank in to see you."

He nodded slightly. "Merci, Stormy."

She nodded, patted his hand gently, and rose, moving to the door. After she left, he sighed, laying his head back slightly. The rich smell of the rose she'd left him was wafting through the room now, the familiarity of it almost painful.

Rogue smelled like roses. She always used that shampoo…rose scented. She knew how much he loved that smell…

With an almost-whimpered curse, he rolled over, staring at the red blossom with a tightness that was almost fear within him.

It looked delicate. Fragile.

So had Rogue, the last time he'd seen her. Right before –

His thoughts were – thankfully – interrupted by the door opening, and Hank's large blue form entering, followed by Ororo's much smaller frame.

"Greetings, my friend. I hear you're not sleeping?"

Remy sat up, raking a hand through his hair, letting it fall into his eyes. "Oui."

An hour later, the doctor left, leaving behind a small orange bottle of pills, with the instruction to take two of them every night before bed.

Once the doctor was gone, he stared at the bottle in his hand. Ororo gave him a questioning look. He took two pills out, pointedly not meeting her eyes, and held the bottle out to her. She accepted with obvious confusion, looking from him to the bottle for a moment.

"Remy?"

"I can' keep it wit' m'." he responded numbly, "Jus'…keep it f'me."

Realization flashed through her eyes, and she stared at him a moment, then nodded simply, pocketing the drugs. "I didn't think you would do something like that, Remy."

"I don' wan' t'. But…s'temptin', when y'wake up from a nightmare like de ones I b'n seein'. I don' wan' b'tempt'd mo', by seein' 'em dere."

She nodded slightly, and reached one hand out to brush hair off his forehead. "Take them, and sleep. I will be in in a few hours to check on you." She said, rising, "Do you need anything?"

"Non, 'M fine." He responded with a small smile. "Merci, 'Ro. G'night, I hope."

"As do I, Remy. As do I." She agreed, stepping from the room, closing the door behind her.

He dry-swallowed the pills, and lay back, eyes closing for a moment.

The smell was still there. But, with his eyes closed, he could pretend…pretend he smelled Rogue, not a flower. Pretend that the pillow that was wedged against his side was her curling up against him like she always did; that everything was normal, and he's back at home with her. His second chance – he'd make her stay in bed, make sure she didn't so much as step foot on the floor.

But what if that still hadn't been enough?

No, he was sure it had been a mistake. His mistake. Surely they hadn't been meant to be unhappy..? After all they'd been through…why didn't they get a happy ending?

The medication's already starting to kick in. He's definitely drowsier then he's been in…a long time…

Compulsively, he reaches over, touching the edge of the pillow with the fingertips of one hand. No, that's not her…is it? It's hard to tell, all of a sudden, and he tries to open his eyes, but he's just too tired…

What if she's there, but won't be when he wakes up?

What if he misses her?

But he can't fight sleep forever; it's caught up to him, and is pulling him under. He just has to hope she'll wait; hope that she won't leave, until he can see her again.

Endnote: Possibly a one-shot, possibly not. Haven't decided. Lemme know if you like, if I should keep it going. I haven't intended for it to be Remy/Ororo, but it does seem that way, doesn't it? Hm. Never written that pair before, so... we'll see.