A/N: So…wow

A/N: So…wow! I go to bed at one, I get up at ten, and already fourteen reviews! Holy Shit! I never thought it would be this popular, especially in just a few hours! So thank you so much everyone who reviewed, I just wish I had the time to thank you all individually. So here's the Gambit chapter, and enjoy! Also, feel free to keep reviewing. ;)

By the time Logan and Rogue had reached The Big Easy, it was about sundown. Party goers riddled the streets as Mardi Gras's first night was dawning. They made their way to a hotel that, surprisingly, Logan had reservations at.

"You have reservations? I thought the Wolverine just came and went as he pleased and hoped for the best." Rogue said as she and Logan jumped from his truck and gathered their bags.

"It wasn't me. It was Storm. She knows people down here, and they said that if I was going to be here during Mardi Gras, this was the best place. Believe me, kid, if it wasn't already paid for, I wouldn't be here. A hotel in the middle of the French Quarter during Mardi Gras? You've gotta be kidding me." He was still grumbling as Rogue stifled a laugh and they sauntered inside.

The man behind the shiny gold painted counter observed them as Logan dropped his duffel bag without ceremony onto the clean, freshly mopped tile floor. The man winced.

"I assume you have a reservation?" He asked haughtily. Rogue snorted, and he glared at her. There was no way he was Cajun. This man was probably from the Midwest or California. He just didn't have that Cajun accent that had made her weak at the knees when she was younger.

"Yeah. The reservation should be under a Monroe, a two bedroom suite." Logan said, leaning on the counter and taking out a cigar. "Smoking." He added.

The man sneered and aimed his face away from the smoke the cigar let out as Logan lit it. He quickly typed away on his computer and waved for a bellboy.

"Ah, yes, here is your reservation, Sir. And while you will be allowed to smoke in your room, I'm afraid this hotel doesn't allow smoking in here." Said the man.

Logan raised an eyebrow and looked from the man to the bellboy. Then he took his cigar out of his mouth, stared the man straight in the face, and ground it out in his hand.

"Good Lord!" The man gasped, staggering backwards. He practically threw the room card key at the two and choked out, "Room 213!"

Logan started walking away, and Rogue followed. They turned the corner, out of the man's sight, then started laughing. "You realize that man is probably scarred for life, right?" Rogue laughed.

Logan chuckled and winced as he watched the burn hole in his had heal up.

The bellboy, whom they had forgotten about, joined in their laughing and walked in front of them, guiding them to their room. Rogue noticed how, despite the fact that he was carrying two weighty bags, he wasn't using one of those shiny trolley things the other bellboys used. Both her and Logan noticed he had pointed ears. They exchanged looks, shrugged, and followed.

The bellboy lead them to the second story, where he stopped at room 213. "Here's yo' room. If ah may?" He held out his hand for the card key. Logan hesitated, then handed it to him. "Knock yourself out."

The bellboy opened their door, and gave a slight bow to Rogue as she entered first, then Logan. He followed them inside, gave them their bags, and left.

Rogue looked around. The sweet was large and beautiful. They were standing in the living room, she guessed, from the placing of the couch, coffee table, and television. On either side of them were open doors leading to two identical bedrooms. Rogue laughed out loud in delight as she picked up her bag and raced to the one on the right. She dropped her bag in the doorway and flopped down on the large Queen sized bed.

"Logan!" She shouted. "This place is amazing! How did Storm know to book a suite with two beds?" She buried her face in the pillows and squealed in delight.

Logan stood in the doorway, kicking her bag further into the room. He was watching her with an amused expression. When she looked up he averted his eyes. "She didn't know. This was just the last room they had available. So enjoy it, 'cause you got lucky, kid."

Her smile just grew and he couldn't help but smile back. This kid had been through so much, and she had every right to be the moody loner she sometimes was. But when she smiled like this, it was infectious. It was almost a shame he had to leave. And that she was only eighteen.

"Well, I gotta get going, kid. This may be a pleasure trip for you, but I got work to do. Here's your card key," He tossed one of two identical keys onto the bed, "I don't want you leaving the room unless for emergencies, understand?"

Rogue's smile ran for cover. "What?! Logan, you're going to leave me alone in a hotel room all night in New Orleans during Mardi Gras? You can't do that!"

"The hell I can't." Logan replied, but he was already feeling his resolve loosening like sand beneath his feet. "You're only eighteen, and I'm not gonna let you waltz around outside till whatever hours you keep alone."

Rogue looked at him skeptically. "Logan, I don't think I'm in any danger. I could take you out in a matter of seconds with one touch. I think that pretty much rules out all the bad things that could happen. And I'm from Mississippi, Logan. You can't keep me from going out there even if you tried."

"You're saying you won't listen to me, then?" He asked, and as much as he wanted to be mad, he couldn't help but see a little bit of himself in her just then.

"I'm not saying that." Rogue replied, trying to erase any damage she might have caused to her case in her last statement.

Logan watched for a long moment. Then he turned to leave. "What I'm saying is that I'm leaving right now. No kids are leaving with me. I'll be back around one, and if there are no kids in here when I get back, someone's in trouble." He smiled to himself as he heard her delighted shriek. He shrugged on his coat, and was out of the room before he could berate himself for giving into her so easily.

"What am I going to wear?" It was an irrational thought on her part, she had to admit, but it was there anyway. She had been forced to leave behind all the sundresses and other revealing clothes she had previously splurged on because of the return of her powers. Not only were they deadly to humans, but also to her wallet.

She didn't know why she was so concerned about her appearance tonight, but, well, despite all that had happened recently she was feeling pretty good. When she felt good, she wanted to look good. And she was having a difficult time looking good when everything she had packed she had barely looked at in her rush.

She finally settled on a black, almost embarrassingly tight tank top with a sheer green long sleeved shirt to go over it, also strangely tight. When did her clothes get so tight? Oh yeah, after she got boobs and Jubilee insisted she start buying shirts one size too small. For her pants she threw on a pair of tight fitting black jeans and her favorite black leather gloves.

She took a look at herself in the mirror and frowned. This was Mardi Gras! Something felt a miss. She tugged her hair free of the bun it was in and, after being in for a day, it made her hair a little bouncy with some natural curl she normally straightened. That was a little better. She tugged on some boots thought some more. Then she rooted around the bottom of her bag again. Ah ha! She triumphantly pulled a purple, green and gold scarf she had had for so long she didn't remember where she had gotten it. Somehow among the heartbreak and guilt she was feeling while packing she had had the common sense to bring it along.

She tied it in her hair and looked at herself again. She was, for the most part, satisfied, but something was still amiss. Then she realized what it was: Beads.

She had not Mardi Gras beads. Well, that could be fixed. She reached under her shirt to her bra, but stopped. Was this really smart? She'd be showing a lot of skin, and even though it was for only a few seconds, it could be a few seconds that meant someone's life. She warred with herself for a little longer, then she pushed the worry from her mind, yanked off her bra, and left the room. Her card key sat sadly on her bed as she left, wondering what it had done wrong.

When Rogue left the hotel, the noise was deafening. It had been years since she had been to a Mardi Gras celebration, and she had forgotten just how crazy it had gotten. She just bet Logan was kicking himself right now. (She was right, actually)

She walked carefully, making sure she didn't touch anyone, even though she was covered from head to toe. After a while, though, she didn't bother anymore. It was too much of a hassle with so many people crammed into the narrow streets of the French Quarter, and the people were safe from her toxic skin anyway.

She was enjoying herself thoroughly, watching the costumes and street displays, laughing with the other revelers. It was like one big family. One big family in masks and glittering beads and manic face paint. She laughed as one man in front of her winked, wearing pink lipstick and eyeshadow.

After about an hour of walking, she had wondered onto Bourbon street, where the real partying was taking place. She tried to look away from the plethora of nudity, but every time she turned away, she was met with another pair of breasts. In the end, she just gave up and accepted it. Dizzy from all the people, some of them dancing, she stumbled into an open doorway.

She turned around and noticed she was in a bar. It was hardly quieter in here than out here, but at least it gave her a chance to take a breath and sit down. Even if you weren't dancing or something, Mardi Gras somehow wore one out. She sat down at the bar, head in her hands for about two seconds, then she sat up and looked around the bar. Several people were dancing to the live music playing from the back of the bar, and a few couples littered across the bar were sucking each others' faces. That she had to look away from. That she could never have again.

She was interrupted when a stranger sat down beside her. He had brown hair and so many beads around his neck she almost laughed. His eyes were covered by a pair of dark sunglasses.

"Hey there. Can ah buy ya a drink?" He asked. She looked him over, hesitating. Did she really want alcohol in her system when she was alone? In the end, she decided she could use some.

"Sure. Your money, not mine." She smirked.

He smiled and ordered two beers. The bartender brought them over, his eyes scrutinizing, but he set the drinks down anyway, took the money, and walked away.

She took a long swig of her beer. Ah, that felt good.

"You're an impressive drinker, girl. Was' yo' name?" The stranger asked.

"What's yours?" She asked instead.

He stopped. "No, not til' I get yo's." He said, smiling.

She smiled back. "Then I guess you'll just be 'stranger' to me." She said. She was actually getting kind of annoyed with him. She went back to her half empty beer.

"You know, dis is a pretty town this time of year, but you make it much prettier." He told her, taking a swig of his own beer.

She gave him a look that said, "Are you really serious right now?" But she didn't say it aloud. The alcohol was taking effect as he prattled on, and she looked out the window.

"You don't want ta' be doin' that, homme."

It was a new voice. She turned back to her stranger to see a new man holding her stranger's hand in a tight grip, a small packet of something in her stranger's fingers.

"Who the hell are you, and why do ya give a damn? Get the hell offa me!" Her stranger shouted at the new man.

"I don't tink so. Not 'til you ask dis lovely lady if she really wanted ta' sleep wit you tonight. Though, I'm gonna take a guess an' say she didn', or you wouldn't have that little packet in yo' hand." The new man said.

It was a blur for Rogue. She didn't get a good look at the new man, but she was looking at her stranger, and it dawned on her just what he must have. Date rap drugs. Horrified, she got to her feet.

"Why you little bastard!" She heard herself saying. Maybe it was the alcohol that made her sound to angry, but it could've been the prospect of some guy trying to rape her, too. One never knew.

"I don' tink she's very pleased wit you, homme." The new man said, and even though Rogue wasn't looking at him, she could hear the smile in his voice.

"I don't think it was much of yo' business to begin with. What I did ta' her was none o' yo' concern!" Her stranger said angrily.

That did it. She nearly yanked off her gloves, but she at least kept that in check. "Yeah?" She asked, "But it was mah business!" And she punched him. Hard, right in the nose.

The new man let go at exactly the right time, and the stranger fell off his bar stool and right onto the floor. The new man laughed, and the stranger's sunglasses fell off, revealing light brown eyes bloodshot. His nose started to bleed, and he looked at the blood in shock for a few moments.

"You little bitch!" He shouted then. The new man's laughing stopped, and he reached down to tug the stranger up by his shirt.

"You shouldn' have said dat. I was just gonna let you go wit her punishin' you, but since you disrespected dis lady, you got me ta' deal wit." Rogue barely saw the man's other hand come up to carry the stranger to the door. He threw him onto the street, much to the enjoyment of everyone else outside as they watched him stagger back to his feet.

A couple of them were saying things like, "Nice one, LeBeau!" and Rogue heard the new man's laugh again. However, she didn't stop to thanks him. She just stormed past him out of the bar, too angry for much else. She heard him call after her, but didn't stop. She didn't even get a good look at him.