Rogue crouched behind a bush, staring at the log cabin on a small hill overlooking Okatibbee Lake. Night had descended in the area, masking it with the purple hues of twilight. Only the crescent moon provided visibility, leaving a glittery trail of its presence on the murky waters.

The isolation of the house left no street lamps nearby, essentially making Rogue invisible. While it may have been fall, the air was warm and humid: a definite telltale sign of the marshlands. Rogue silently shrugged off her thick biker's jacket, leaving herself only in a turtleneck tank top, jeans and opera-style gloves.

She had put her bike in neutral about a mile away from the house, pushing it behind a large oak tree a couple yards behind her. There wasn't much traffic in the area, and she didn't want to give Mystique any reason to look outside.

Leaving her jacket on the ground, she made her way toward the back of the house, keeping low to the ground.

A small light filtered from the window near the front, but blinds hid everything else from view.

Letting out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding, Rogue made it to the back of the house and pressed herself against it. Sliding along the long wall, she stopped next to a darkened window and carefully peered in.

The room, which appeared to be a bedroom, was empty. The door leading to the hallway was closed, but light penetrated from beneath it, giving Rogue enough glow to see what was inside. The bedcovers were a mess, and a large duffel bag sat on the floor near the window. Everything else in the room seemed untouched.

Mystique hadn't been here very long, but that was not surprising. After all, Rogue had seen her a couple days ago when she and Kurt had rebuked her pathetic attempt of an apology. Destiny had said Mystique had stopped by not long after that fateful night to get the keys to the place.

The cabin had belonged to Destiny's father and was given to her when he died. Rogue briefly wondered why, as a child, she'd never been taken to it.

She remembered Destiny mentioning her father only once to her, before she had become "sick"—and the vehemence in the blind woman's voice had made Rogue too scared to ever ask about him again. There probably weren't too many fond memories for Destiny to share here, then.

Rogue continued past the window, keeping her body close to the wall. She turned the corner and checked the adjacent bathroom's window.

Also locked.

A loud creak made Rogue quickly hide behind the corner of the house she had just passed. The creak was followed by a couple bangs, and Rogue recognized the sound as a screen door opening and slamming shut.

Rogue closed her eyes and focused on Logan's heightened senses she still possessed. The only door to the cabin was in the front of the house, where a long porch provided campers the opportunity to sit and enjoy the beauty of the lake.

Now, however, slight slapping of bare feet and a couple flicks of a lighter told Rogue someone was outside smoking a cigarette.

Keeping Logan's heightened senses turned on, Rogue quickly traversed the side of the house as silently as possible. The window with light was near the front of the house, but on the side, out of view from the porch. Rogue peered through a crack in the blinds and saw a small living room and kitchen.

No one was inside.

This window was open, with a fan perched in front of it to draw cool air into the stuffy interior. The place most likely didn't have air conditioning.

In one swift motion, Rogue popped off the cheap screen of the window. The sound had been masked by the motor of the fan, as well as a small television that was currently airing the nightly news.

Rogue listened for sounds out front on the porch. She thought for a second that perhaps Mystique had already made her way back inside, but she finally heard the thin hiss of paper burning from Mystique taking another drag.

Rogue neatly climbed up onto the windowsill, pushing the blinds forward enough to allow her entry inside. She cringed a little as the plastic blinds rattled against each other.

Inside, Rogue ducked behind a couch facing the front door just as the screen door slammed open.

Rogue could smell the adrenaline off of Mystique and realized she too had heard the rattling of the blinds. Footsteps grew closer, and stopped nearby the window Rogue had just entered. The silence was thick, and Rogue didn't need Logan's senses to know Mystique was also listening intently to her surroundings.

The cabin was too small to try and move anywhere without Mystique hearing her. The element of surprise was already gone: Rogue just needed to get the jump on her.

The sound of a couple footsteps approaching the couch was all the hints Rogue needed. Bracing herself, she turned, grabbed the top of the couch and catapulted herself over.

Her feet connected squarely with Mystique's stomach, sending her backwards and knocking over the fan. The blue woman landed on her butt and slid, but she caught herself before hitting the wall. Using her momentum, Mystique quickly flipped and used her arms to deftly stand and face Rogue.

"Hey mama," Rogue sarcastically drawled.

Mystique looked at her with only a hint of surprise. "Rogue, what are you doing here?"

Rogue, who now stood in front of the couch, clicked her tongue. "Wouldn't want to tell you my plans for world domination and all, now would Ah?" Her demeanor gave off arrogance, but Rogue's senses were on high alert. She guardedly watched Mystique's small movements for any sign of attack.

Mystique cocked her head a bit, crossing her arms. "You're here by yourself, which means this has to do with us."

"Nothing like a li'l ol' reunion, right?" Rogue watched as Mystique took a small sidestep, toward the kitchen. There could be a lot of things she could use in a kitchen.

Rogue took a step in the same direction, closing the distance between Mystique and herself.

"Tell me what you want to know. I have nothing to hide," Mystique offered, her voice etched with phony affection.

Lies had an interesting way of increasing blood flow and sweat, which could be readily smelled on a person. Rogue reminded herself to never try and lie to Logan again.

"Even if you could, you wouldn't." Rogue's voice remained low, and she countered another one of Mystique's small sidesteps with her own. She really didn't want Mystique to make it to the kitchen, but she didn't want to initiate the imminent fight that was to ensue either.

That left one option.

"I don't understand," Mystique stated, but her eyes said she understood all too well.

Rogue smiled at Mystique, but inside she kept her guard. "You will, soon enough." Rogue made the motion of taking off one of her gloves, taking a brazen step forward while doing so.

Mystique took the bait and lunged at Rogue before she could remove the article. Rogue was fully prepared for the attack, however, and nimbly dodged out of the way. Mystique now behind her, Rogue used a roundabout kick to put the blue woman on the defensive. Logan's fighting skills were trying to rush to the forefront of Rogue's mind, but she pushed them away and focused on her own.

Most of Logan's fighting tactics included claws she didn't have, and she couldn't afford making a miscalculation with someone like Mystique.

Rogue ducked out of the way of a flying chair, wincing as a few thick splinters of wood ricocheted and hit her from the wall it exploded against. Mystique certainly didn't have any problems fighting dirty. The older woman had used the chair as a distraction to come up behind Rogue, but as she kicked out her foot Rogue managed to get to the side of it, spinning fast and delivering an uppercut to the underside of Mystique's chin.

The punch momentarily fazed Mystique, but she recovered quickly and moved in on Rogue, grabbing her by the waist and knocking Rogue off-balance.

In what seemed like an action that defied gravity, Mystique brought her leg up and kicked Rogue in the face while doing a forward flip. The move had been fast enough that Rogue's mutation didn't kick in, and for the first time she cursed its small delay. The blow caused Rogue's head to snap back painfully, and as Mystique made her acrobatic flip Rogue barely had time to dodge the second foot that was aiming for her head.

Logan's healing seemed to help her senses regain fast control, however, because Rogue managed to grab the second leg that careened past her. Using Mystique's appendage as leverage, Rogue kicked out her own leg and made solid contact with Mystique's torso.

The wind knocked out of her, Mystique's arms gave way from her mid-handstand and she tumbled to the floor. Rogue took the opportunity to try and take one of her gloves off.

A vase suddenly decided to make contact with Rogue's head, knocking her off her feet and causing her to collide into the small television behind her.

Rogue felt the electricity from the broken television before she registered the sound of the crash, and she felt her body jerk with the voltage streaming through her. It took her a couple seconds to gain control enough to roll off the live wire, and when she did she felt the blood from the gash on her face roll into her eyes.

The light in the cabin suddenly flickered, then died. The television must have blown a circuit. Rogue tried to let her eyes adjust to the moonlight, but she wasn't given a chance to.

A hand reached down to grab her hair roughly, but Rogue jumped up and quickly head butted Mystique backwards. Mystique cried out and let go as Rogue turned around to face her opponent.

Mystique was holding her nose with both hands, staring at Rogue disbelievingly. It took Rogue a second to realize Mystique wasn't staring at her, but at the already-healing cut on her face.

The look changed quickly, however, and even as Rogue advanced on Mystique she didn't realize the meaning of the glare before it was too late.

With a quick slip of the hand Mystique reached to the side of her thigh—where a sheath had apparently been hidden beneath her black skirt— and pulled out a small knife, flinging it.

Rogue had been too startled at the action to successfully avoid the sharp object, and she grunted as it firmly wedged itself into the top of her thigh. The lacerating pain shot up her leg like hot lava, and it was all Rogue could do to keep standing as Logan's healing factor started fighting the embedded object. Logan might've had the benefit to heal, but it sure as hell didn't feel very good doing it.

She reached down to pull the dagger out, but a strong hand came up and wrapped itself around Rogue's shirt-clad neck, the fingers digging into her thorax and cutting her airway off completely. She damned the inventors of turtleneck tank tops and tried to take one of her gloves off again.

Mystique quickly grabbed Rogue's right wrist with her other hand before she had had the chance to remove the thin fabric, and Rogue choked as she tried to breath but couldn't. Mystique was staring at her, a thin smile spreading across her ruby red lips even as blood began to drip from her broken nose.

"Cheaters never prosper, Rogue." Her voice was calm and indifferent, as if they had been having tea before Mystique had decided to strangle Rogue.

The pain in Rogue's leg began to throb to the beat of her adrenaline-induced heart, but the lack of oxygen was beginning to make her head swim and eyes water. All she could do was stare back at Mystique, the moonlight illuminating her face in streaks from the blinds on the window.

Logan's healing factor had triggered an entirely different kind of reaction from Mystique—she had seemed to change her prerogative as soon as she had found out Rogue could super heal. It was as if the knowledge of harming Rogue without killing her....

Wait. That was it. Killing her. Mystique didn't want to kill Rogue. Was that some inherent mothering attribute, or did Mystique have more plans up her alley for Rogue and her cursed powers?

Powers she wouldn't mind using right about now, Rogue thought absently. It was so hard to focus without oxygen.

Pain in the leg. Pain in her chest. One hand free, currently trying to pry Mystique's hand off her throat.

Could try to pull glove off with teeth. She'd probably stop her.

Pain in the leg. ...Wait.

Knife.

Even as blackness began to creep around the corners of Rogue's eyes, she used her free hand to grab the knife in her thigh. She pulled, and the pain was enough to send her over the edge to unconsciousness, but Rogue used what little power she had to jab the bloody knife at Mystique.

The hand on Rogue's throat instantly released, and Rogue fell to the ground in a heap, coughing up a storm. She looked up and saw Mystique on her knees a couple feet away, one hand clutched around the knife penetrating her side.

Her leg began to properly heal with the knife now gone, but Rogue realized it was slowing down. Blood still oozed out of the wound, albeit with a lot less vigor than before.

Taking in a couple more deep, straggled breaths, Rogue stood up, towering over Mystique's still crumpled form.

The blue woman looked up at her and watched as Rogue removed one of her gloves, finally succeeding in doing so.

"That's for making meh sick all those years." Rogue's voice came out haggard from her throat being closed off, but it was quickly fading. The opera glove she removed fell listlessly to the floor.

"Rogue, don't." Mystique's voice was small, and quiet. She could barely speak, but tried to anyway. "You know what too many people inside your head will do."

Rogue ignored her. "And this," Rogue brought her bare hand close to Mystique's face, "this is for all the times you've used meh. Now it's your turn." Her hand reached down and grasped Mystique's throat, but not tight enough to close her airway. Veins began to bulge on both Mystique and Rogue as the coupled drain and rush of feelings began.

Outside, the sounds of giant turbines rumbled.