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Thick raindrops violently hit against the living room window at the Xavier Institute. The very tall and dark-skinned woman stood in front of the main door at the mansion, protected from the rain on the porch, seemed to be responsible for the sudden weather change.

Where are you, Logan? the weather witch thought to herself, although she had a clue.

Storm felt something was wrong. She remembered Logan's words earlier that sunny afternoon.

"I need to know if she's fine, 'Ro. It's eating me alive. And what do we have? Predictions of a crazy woman and Xavier's faith in her words. An' the worst part is that, after all this time, we don't have a goddanm clue on how to take Apocalypse down."

At that moment, Storm could not think of anything worth saying. Now she regretted it.

Sitting on her armchair in the dark, Destiny knew of his coming. Still she wondered what had taken him so long. Then, her ears, sharp as someone's who had not been able to rely on her vision for many years, captured a subtle sound.

"I want proof she's safe" grunted a voice behind her back.

"That's a guarantee I cannot offer" replied Destiny, calmly.

"Look into the future and tell me how she is" the voiced commanded.

This time, besides the imposing and hoarse voice, she could hear the sound of blades cutting through skin.

"Why? As far as I remember, you refuse to believe me."

Wolverine took a while to reply, despite not being a man who minced his words. "You were right about one thing... we didn't and we still don't have another choice but to trust you."

"Well, I did look into the future" she replied a few seconds later.

"And what'd you see?"

"Fog."

"What the hell does that mean?" asked Wolverine as he raised his voice. It was odious how she insisted on speaking in riddles.

Destiny sighed and stood up. With short and faltering steps, she walked towards Wolverine. With her dark shades and cane, she looked like a fragile old woman. With a weak voice, she answered: "The future hasn't been changed yet..."

"What do you mean by that? We did everything you told us to do" at that point, Wolverine was yelling. Nonetheless, Destiny did not falter. She expected that reaction.

"It has been changed to a certain extent, however it's still not enough."

"That means Apocalypse can still win."

The woman lowered her head, as if averting her eyes from the Canadian's face, as if she had been seeing him all along. "Blaming yourself will only do you harm."

Suddenly, Wolverine realized his going there had been a huge mistake. He was about to leave when she spoke again.

"She's fine."

Wolverine saw himself out without saying another word, telling himself it all had been nothing more than a waste of time.

When he got back to the mansion, Storm was waiting for him.

"Don't give me that look, 'Ro" he said on the defense as he walked up to her.

Before Storm could reply, though, they were interrupted by the slam of the door, and a flustered Kitty.

"You know when Professor Xavier said he feared Magneto could try something stupid?" she said, spitting the words out "You gotta see this."

In a few seconds, they had gotten to the living room, where all students were gathered, their eyes fixed on the TV.

On the screen, Magneto was smashed by Apocalypse's forces.

In back of the room, Xavier lowered his head, and left the room unnoticed.

Even after having lost sight of Gambit, Rogue remained confused and disoriented like never before – and that meant a lot.

She slipped her back down the wall wishing she could disappear. Still, she stayed sitting on the floor, incapable of moving. She touched her mouth despite herself. Her wet clothes gave her cold shivers, even though her body felt like it was burning.

She made an attempt to stand up but realized her legs were shaky and too weak to support her weight. It took a long time for Rogue to come back to her senses. She stood to her feet and went to change her clothes, which now were only slightly wet.

She tried to empty her head. Desperately struggled to move what had just happened to the back of her mind, since she doubted she would forget it so soon. And the alien feelings (that was the only appropriate term she could think of at that moment) that took over her body made everything the more baffling and surreal.

Rogue concentrated so hard in her inner battle that she got absent-minded to the point of forgetting whatever it was around her. She dried her body and started to change her clothes, looking down at the bed.

Gambit came behind her right after she had finished dressing. He swallowed in a dry throat and rested his shoulder against the wall on his left. He was wearing the same clothes; the only difference was that now they seemed to be almost dried. His skin was quite red for having walked too long under the sun, whereas his eyes had gone back to their usual neutrality.

Once again, playing cards showed up between his fingers. A little smirk curled his lips. "About what happened earlier..." he started; then stopped and trailed off purposely. His tone of voice was conversational, as if he were talking about the weather. It hurt her – just for a second.

Gambit's eyes carefully watched the motions of his fingers playing with cards as he spoke; suddenly he looked up at her. His eyes were not the same. These were shallow, opaque, lifeless. "I hope you ain't upset about it."

Upset was definitely not the right word. Rogue crossed her arms after tucking a lock of wet hair behind her ear. Nonetheless, no answer left her mouth.

He went on. "If you could understand..." he trailed off again, offering her the chance to say something; Rogue remained silent, though. "All dese days here... jus' the two of us... I mean, you're a pretty girl and—"

She finally interrupted him with a gesture of her hand. "Ah understand, Cajun" she knew it was a shameless lie. Despite it all, at that moment, all that mattered was to play along, to pretend like he did. If Gambit did not give a damn about it, why would she? After all, it was not as if it had meant something.

"Très bien. Won't happen again. Unless you want to" this time his voice was filled with innuendo. In part, it reminded the Gambit from before.

"Ah don't" she rushed to say. "Didn't mean nothin', right?"

His gaze lingered in her eyes before he replied. "Non. Not to me."

"Great. We're in agreement then."

"Still... it's your loss, chère."

She put her hands on her waist, teasingly. "An' Ah doubt it, Cajun."

He smiled and walked away. Although, deep down, he knew that was not the end.

In the evening, after spending another afternoon apart, Gambit found Rogue lying on the couch. She had nothing in her hands, in fact, they looked so idle and impatient that her fingers drummed on her belly time after time, as if itching for some action. What was on her mind, though, was unknown to him.

She noticed his coming near. "Help me out wit' dinner?" he offered; his voice was neither contrived nor cold, just casual.

Rogue looked up and, with a feeble little smile, nodded her head.

And so they had dinner together for the first time in days. It was true that they exchanged few words; however, the fact that it did not feel awkward was reason enough to be grateful.

What happened between them that morning surprisingly did not keep them apart like they thought it would; it had the opposite effect. As neither of them admitted the kiss meant anything, it actually did them good. It was as though they had been curious and uneasy for all that time and then could finally get their curiosity out. That kiss helped them to get whatever that was bothering them out of their chests.

The problem was that now they had no idea of how to deal with the feelings that remained – and surfaced – after the ones that were sorted out. Although, at the peak of their stubbornness, neither would admit there was any sentiment between them, for that reason, it did not seem to be a heavy weight to carry.

They did not talk about what happened that morning during dinner, or even later, but it felt as though they had a silent agreement so that that topic would never come up again. Specially because ruminating something so insignificant seemed unnecessary.

That day ended up being the healthiest they had since the day they found themselves together on that beach – a morning that felt so distant. The discomfort they brought on one another was no longer there.

At night, Rogue lay down in bed, her back to Gambit, as she always did – which did not mean she would wake up in that same position. At least, it spared her of being visually aware of the Cajun's presence as she slept, though.

Gambit smiled, lying back with his arms behind his head. Teasing her seemed to have become even more fun. "You'll get tired of sleeping in the same positon, chérie" Rogue said nothing; she was not going to fall for it, and Gambit was not going to give up. "It makes me wonder what de problem really is" he pretended to wander with his voice annoyingly mellowed. He felt her move subtly, which would have slipped through the cracks in case he was not such a terrific reader.

Gambit smiled. "It one o' two things: either you t'ink my presence is insufferable... or I'm too much a temptation for you" she firmly kept her cool; did not move a muscle, barely breathed. Neither did she notice Gambit's effort not to break out laughing. "Obviously I believe de second option is de reason for your hostility."

"Will you shut up for a second?" she finally erupted. She did not mean to be so rude but felt better as soon as she did it. That was how it worked, she thought, prepotently. She was wrong, though; Gambit was not convinced.

After some long seconds of silence, Gambit spoke again. "You know what your silence really means?"

Even though Rogue had her back to him, she could feel him smile delightfully. Disgruntled, she rose up to a sitting position, and crossed her arms. "What?" she asked between gritted teeth.

"As always, I'm right... c'est la seconde option."

Rogue snorted and once again turned her back to him. It was exasperating how neither ignoring him nor facing up to him seemed to work. Oh, sometimes she hated him.

Gambit lay down as well and pulled the sheet almost uncovering her. She retaliated by doing the same.

Another smirk curled his lips. Perhaps he would steal another kiss one of those days.

As the first week went by, things started to feel gradually less awkward between Rogue and Gambit.

What they fail to comprehend was that their sudden intimacy, which had led them to share a kiss, made it possible for them to reach a new level in terms of living together.

In no time, they did not feel embarrassed any longer nor did they feel afraid at each other's presence. They started to spend more time together and even stopped fighting against their physical attraction, whose existence could no longer be denied. After all, they agreed, even though not verbally, that physical attraction was responsible for making them act that way. It seemed they had finally realized that. They planned to hang out so that, who knows, time would pass by faster and make their stay there more pleasing. After all, they only had each other.

There was no one to be seen during their days on the beach. That way, the treacherous voice inside Rogue's head, which feared for her safety, was close to being inaudible. Still, every time she laid herself down to sleep or remained silent, her thoughts turned to the Institute. Even though her preoccupation was not as intense as before, she longed to know how things were playing out, if everything was alright. She wished to tell the X-Men that she was alright. It happened every night. A kind of excitement, anticipation. It was hard to tell whether the constant arguments with Gambit were becoming more and more fun or something else.

Rogue tried to push that thought aside countless times, and it would always come back to haunt her. She thought that maybe she liked her new life there more than her life before.

It was the seventh night when Rogue was lying on the couch, humming an old lullaby, which, for some reason, had sprung to her mind. She felt her eyelids get heavier and heavier, though she did not dare move. There was an aura of comfort surrounding her body; sweet, almost familiar.

She closed her eyes for a moment; she did not fall asleep but felt the slumber come to her. Her lips, however, went on moving slowly, although there was nothing more than murmur coming out of them. And, even though her ears were filled with the muffled sound of her own voice – that barely resembled a melody –, they caught a knock coming from the porch.

She opened her eyes and felt the strength to get up. Perhaps she was fed up with lying down or she was feeling attracted by something outside. As she headed to the porch, Rogue heard another knock. She leaned on the door to watch Gambit, who threw knives against the wood pillar that supported the porch around six feet away from where he was.

Gambit, who had noticed her drawing near even before she was at his field of vision, cast a sidelong glance at the girl. A second later he tossed another knife, which hit the wood almost at the exact same spot of the previous one.

"Wow!" Rogue breathed. The fact that Gambit asked for silverware back at that frightening stormy night made even more sense now. With an ability like that, Gambit would not need to use his mutant power at all, although it exponentially increased his destruction powers with any weapon that fell into his hands – even if it did not look like a weapon at first.

Gambit walked up to the pillar and pulled the knives off the wood with three or four vertical movements. The knives seemed to disappear in his hands, and he was not even wearing long sleeves.

"Thought cards were your specialty, Cajun" she commented with a friendly smile, feeling like talking.

"Dey are" he said before tossing another precise knife that seemed to stick on the very same spot as the previous ones. There were a few more cracks, which indicated that many other blades had found their way to that small spot at the height of the Cajun's eyes.

"So you like playing with knives sometimes?" Rogue rolled her eyes internally because of her stupid question. However, as Gambit remained silent, she made an attempt at saying something in order not to let the conversation – if you could call it that, that is – end so briefly. That ridiculous comment was all she could come up with.

Gambit did not seem to have found it such a terrible question, for he chuckled slightly, curving the corner of his lips, and revealing dimples that only now Rogue noticed. "No doubt cards are my favorite, but dat doesn't mean I can't work wit' other options. Right, chère?" he tossed another knife without apparently aiming. It hit the intended target like all the previous knives. "I was raised in a family of t'ieves" he revealed as if it were nothing. It was a part of his past he did not care to hide. Moreover, he figured Rogue was smart enough to have that much figured out. Judging by the expression on her face, he was right. "that's why I've had all kinds of lessons. O'course I've always had a soft spot for offensive weapons, even before my powers came up."

One more knife tossed, and his eyes did not want to focus on Rogue, despite the fact that his movements seemed to be getting the more mechanic. He continued speaking, as if suddenly talking about himself had become easy. "When I realized knives could be too dangerous when combined wit' my mutant powers... I switched to cards. Dey're light – I can carry a whole deck in a pocket –, dey're easy to handle, and, although dey can do huge damage, dey ain't lethal."

Rogue had not moved, and then said: "Logan has trained me in a way I could fend for myself, but for some reason, he's never let me use any kind of weapon. Ah've never understood why. Now Ah'm thinking he might've wanted to protect me. Come to think of it, it's kinda strange, he knew Ah've never felt comfortable attacking, Ah mean, without using mah powers, it would be logical for me to have some kinda weapon."

"Funny how you speak in de past tense, Rogue."

The girl felt her face blushing.

"I can teach you if you want" offered Gambit, picking up on her sudden discomfort. He came closer. "Here" he said, pointing at her neck. "is as lethal as here" the heart.

"I don't wanna learn to kill" she said, nervously. She thought his comment to be odd and, in a way, unnecessary.

Gambit scowled for a reason Rogue did not understand. "Wanna learn to throw or not?"

Rogue nodded.

They shifted positions. Gambit showed her how to properly hold the knife, positioned her arm and said "now". The knife hit the pillar with the handle and fell down; the blade made a disquieting buzz.

"Bien, but I believe de goal is to hit wit' de sharp side" he said in a voice full of mockery.

Rogue determinedly positioned herself for another throw, focused her eyes at the target. She would show him she could do it. She threw it again, confident she would get it right. Again, the knife hit the wood and fell.

Gambit chuckled. "Well, you hit with the blade dis time" he crouched down, and scooped the knives up from the floor. "You actually have a knack for it."

"Shut up, Cajun" she retorted begrudgingly.

"It's true. Just need practicing."

And Gambit was right, after all. Twenty minutes later, Rogue could get six out of ten throws to hit the target.

When it seemed she had started to get the hang of it, she gave in to the pain in her arm.

"We can get back to it tomorrow" said Gambit, yawning.

They stepped in, and, surprisingly, went to bed without fighting.

To be continued…

xXxXx

Glossary:

C'est la seconde option – It's the second option

N/A: Thanks for the last chapter reviews. I loved them!