Disclaimer: Marvel's by law, mine by right of conquest.

Rating: Rated M for strong language, sex and violence.

Author's note: So did anyone catch the VERY subtle Easter egg in the last chapter? ;)

rogue leabou - Thank you SO much for the wonderful review. It's so lovely to hear your well-written thoughts. I do hope you enjoy this chapter too, and that it shows that Irene's death was not in vain. I am flattered that my interpretation of her meant so much to you. I really do think her potential was underused in the comics and there is so much that could still be done with her character... except she's dead in the comics too *sob*. slightlyxjaded - Yes, I think one of the driving forces in Irene's life was probably keeping Rogue alive... Guest - Thanks so much for sharing your reactions to Chapter 12, and I hope you liked Chapter 13 too! I found your observations that both Sinister and Remy are obsessed with the same woman but for different reasons to be very insightful. I never thought of it that way before, so... Thanks. It gives me some awesome food for thought, and I'm so thrilled you got something out of it so unexpected to me. :) FF2Addict - Wow, you read books 1 and 2 as well?! That's so hard core! You're amazing! :D Yeah. Channing Tatum. I dunno. He's just way too meat head for me. And physically completely different to Gambit. I think of Remy as kind of lean and rangy rather than beefcake. But who knows? Maybe they'll surprise us? Me Voila - Wow. That really is a nightmare. I have similar dreams, but it's a striving to do something or get somewhere rather than to find someone. I'm glad I managed to evoke that reaction in you (painful thought it may be). And as to how Rogue will endure... Like Irene says, she has tools. ;) Remy'sRose - Interesting how you mention Rogue and Logan in your review, because the dynamic between them gets very different in this chapter... ;) As for the rest of your questions - hope they get answered satisfactorily here! And thank you so much for your in-depth comments, they make me smile so much! :D

Thanks also go to RRL24, Warrior-princess1980; to jpraner for all her suggestions, hints, tips and thoughts; to randirogue for the read-through; and to all my readers that I really hope are finding something worthwhile in this story. :)

Much love,

-Ludi x

-oOo-

: ARROW OF TIME :

PART THREE : ROGUE

(14) - The Risk -

It seemed to Rogue to be the only time she could remember that Raven could find no words to speak.

When they'd found her – pale and bloody and with the old woman still in her arms – Raven had said nothing.

And now, back at the compound, with all the world seeming to float precariously about her, she said nothing still.

There was perhaps little to be said. Rogue herself remained speechless, as they laid Irene's body carefully on her bed, each paying their own silent homage. On that day, as with the Sentinels and the Hounds, there would be no eulogies paid, no requiem sung. The rites of the funeral had long since been abandoned. It was not simply a matter of belief. It was simply that there was no one left to perform them.

When the others left, Raven stayed. Rogue was the last to leave, caught between the feeling that she should go and the urge to comfort her foster mother. She hovered by the bed, uncertain, sensing a gulf between herself and Raven that had never existed before. When at last the older woman looked up at her, it was with a look charged with animosity. She knew then that she was not wanted. She turned and tiptoed from the room, finding it odd that it was only then that she felt tears smart her eyes.

Logan was waiting for her outside.

"For what it's worth," he said quietly, as she shut the door softly behind her. "I'm sorry."

Rogue could only nod. There didn't seem to be any adequate reply to make. She stood as if rooted to the spot.

"You look like shit, Rogue," Logan told her, moving to place a hand on her shoulder. "C'mon – you need to rest."

"Ah can't," she replied. She knew that much.

"You can't run on nothin', stripes," he warned her. "And right now you got nothin'. Rest, build up your strength. When you get up, then we can start doin' somethin' about this."

She knew he was right. She didn't want him to be, but she didn't have the energy to argue. The numbness in her was greater than her power to fight.

"We needed her, Logan," she murmured weakly. "How are any of us supposed t' make sense of this without her?"

"You honestly think she could've helped us with this?" Logan asked her soberly, sadly even. "Rogue, if there was anythin' at all she coulda done to help us, she would've left it in her diaries. Or told Raven."

"Raven hates me right now," Rogue muttered dismally.

"Hates you? I don't think so, Rogue. Maybe she's angry with you. For being there for Irene when she wasn't, for Irene taking a bullet in your place. But I don't think she hates you."

That made sense too. She didn't want it to, but it did.

"Why don't we look at the Diaries then?" she queried, changing tack. Logan looked uncomfortable.

"The last volume's in Irene's room." He indicated with a nod at the door Rogue had just come from. "But seriously, stripes, you ain't gonna find nothin' useful in there. We already looked. Things get to this point and then they go blank."

Rogue blinked at him.

"What?"

"You heard me. Blank. There's nothin'. You could look for yerself, but I don't think Raven would appreciate you rootin' round her room just yet."

True again. And she believed what Logan had told her, it was just so… strange. Why would Irene have stopped? Unless it was the end: the thing that Irene had always spoken of as being the great purpose of the Timestream itself, something that had always seemed so monumental and far away to Rogue, a kind of Armageddon. But she felt certain that if that was the case, Irene would have imparted that particular knowledge to her.

The numbness was receding, giving way to an overwhelming tiredness. Rogue passed a hand over her eyes, rubbed her brow with her thumb. The past couple of days she'd been living off nothing more than adrenaline: her mind had already shut down; now her body was protesting as well. Irene's words seemed to swim at the forefront of her vision in a strange fusion of sight and sound, the synathestic effect of traumatic memory.

Everything lies in your power, for better, for worse…

The sentence could be read two ways. She wondered which one Irene had intended, or whether it made any difference.

"Rogue," Logan was saying, real concern on his face this time. "Get some sleep. Even if it's just for an hour. And that ain't a request. You need to rest."

Somehow his kindness seemed to cut through the haze of the past few days. Despite thinking it was impossible for her to cry again, she began to weep. Logan, alarmed, put his arms round her awkwardly, as if it was an age since he'd last embraced anyone. Nevertheless she clung to him, fuelled by the terrible intuition that he was the only thing she had left. Irene, Remy, and now Raven – all had left her. She didn't think she could take another loss.

It was when she pulled away slightly that she saw it on his face again – a look that she recognised now was of pained restraint – and it was only inside her own sense of loss that she could understand exactly what it meant.

She understood that he'd lied.

That he felt more for her than either of them had dared to acknowledge.

And he kissed her.

She let him kiss her because she wanted it, because instinct told her he would never let her hurt or be alone, and she needed that reassurance more than anything.

It was pure selfishness.

And when they drew apart she looked him right in the eye and saw that he sensed it also. There was no recrimination in his gaze – it had been an act of selfishness on his part too.

"Ah'm sorry," she told him brokenly. "Ah – Ah can't."

"I know," he answered.

And they never spoke about it again.

-oOo-

She did as Logan suggested and slept, though it was hard to sleep despite her exhaustion. Her mind was feverish, her emotions were in a whirl. She tossed and turned, thinking of Irene lying on that bed in a cold repose, as silent and invisible as she had been all her life, yet no longer there… Her presence always implied by the onward march of Time, by the fact that every day was followed by a tomorrow… And now gone. Disappeared without trace.

And then she thought of Raven, her steel grey eyes boring right into her from across the bed, bald hostility in that glare, the accusation of ages held in a single gaze that should have withered Rogue where she stood…

New York city, ablaze, a prison of the dead and dying, and somewhere in the centre of it all Remy LeBeau – Sinister – whoever or whatever he was – causing it. The one man she had given up so much to, who had played all the love she cherished most dearly on a wild gamble and lost. She understood why he'd done it, she even understood the hubris that had led him to believe he would win… But he hadn't won… And even if he had, she still didn't know if she could forgive him for making her a pawn in his game. That he had played her as surely as he'd played Sinister was starkly clear, and it burned, even if it had been for her, for both of them… in the end it still burned...

Then there were Logan's lips on hers, a stolen kiss because she feared loss and he feared losing her without telling her he'd come to love her…

And everything sucked in under the tide, into the whirlpool of memories, through to that place where everything was tucked away, everything was hidden, her own secret little storehouse, her shoebox of past moments recollected, greasy photos on the wall textured with a thick layer of dust… …

"Rogue."

She looked over her shoulder and saw Remy standing right there behind her, just as she was pinning that last memory onto her note board. She was almost surprised to find herself consciously here. She was in the mansion in her mind, in her old bedroom. She hadn't been here, not for years. Going into the mansion had somehow always seemed forbidden to her – yet here she was, in this facsimile of her old life, in a room of beiges and faint blushed pink, sunlight streaming in through windows that looked down onto the lake below. She was standing by her neatly arranged desk, looking up at the wall in front of her.

The wall was cluttered. Photos were spilling off the noteboard in a torrent, overlapping one another in a confused jumble, a mess of colour penetrated here and there by spots of black and white… Moments of her life played out in still-life, none of it in any coherent order. There were a few from her childhood; more were from her teen years, after her powers had first manifested. A deep splash of colour from her time with the X-Men, counterbalanced by shades of grey from the time immediately thereafter. Soft strains of flushed red and pastels threading their way through the monochrome, and she saw he was in those ones. She looked at them with the giddy feeling of a schoolgirl who draws hearts in the margins of her notebooks along with the name of her beloved. Her heart ached when she realised then how much she missed him.

"Looks interestin'," he commented in a flat voice, and she realised that he was referring to the picture she'd just pinned up – her and Logan in a cacophony of clashing neon colours, like a garish piece of pop art.

"It ain't what you think," she told him evenly, more calmly than she'd thought. Here, in her mind, things seemed clearer. Tranquil, even. All the tumult of the real world a distant echo.

"I ain't thinkin' anyt'ing," he replied in the kind of voice that told her that he was actually thinking quite a lot. She turned to him, reached out to touch the lapels of his coat. Her fingers curled around the fabric, but as usual, there was no sensation associated with the action – perhaps a mere prickling, but that was all.

"Ah wish Ah could explain," she told him sadly, stepping close to him and feeling none of his warmth. "There's so much going on on the outside and Ah'm feelin' so scared and alone… Logan's the only one Ah have right now… It just happened…"

"I know what's goin' on outside, chere," he answered her after a moment – there was no hardness in his tone, but not much softness either. She looked up at him, surprised.

"How?"

"Irene," he said. "We've been workin' together, Rogue. For a while now, actually. I wanted t' tell you, but never got de chance. Things have been kinda crazy…"

Rogue was silent a moment. This new bit of information explained a lot; and yet it explained next to nothing.

"Irene said I held the tools," she murmured half to herself. "She said they were here." She looked at him again questioningly. "Ah figured she meant Sage and Leech… Did she mean you too? And her own psyche? Workin' together?"

There was still no emotion on his face.

"Tools? Mebbe, chere. We got some t'ings lined up for you. But it'd take too long to explain – it's better if I show you. It's why I'm here anyways. To take you to de place."

"What place?" she asked him, confused.

"De base. Of operations." And only then did he smile. "Sounds scary, neh? Don't worry – it ain't. You'll see when you get dere."

...

He led her out of her room, down long, plush carpeted corridors that were at once familiar and yet strange for all their untouched stillness. It felt like a house abandoned – as if all its occupants had suddenly upped and left without taking their belongings but a few moments before. All was quiet, yet every room was suffused with a warm glow of sunlight, with the scent of the gardens that had so often filtered through during the summer. It was surreal, yet intensely moving; as she followed Gambit through the well-loved building, she felt a thickness begin to form in her throat.

And then, to her surprise, he stopped in front of Xavier's office and turned to her.

"Here," he said, simply, and pushed the burnished oak door open. He did not enter, but gestured for her to do so. And she did.

She stopped short when she saw who was in there.

There was Irene of course, but not at Xavier's desk as she had expected. The desk was empty, the polished wood shimmering with an almost blinding light in the ray of sunshine that poured in from the window behind it. Irene was instead sitting on one of three sofas arranged in a semicircular pattern about a coffee table right in front of the desk. Rogue remembered Xavier often using this arrangement when the purpose of a meeting had been an informal chat. She realised then how little he had actually used his desk.

Beside Irene sat Rachel, fresh-faced and eager. And on the sofa opposite, Sage and Leech. It was their presence that had caused Rogue to stop short in her tracks. It was the first time she had seen them since their absorption, and here they were, wide awake and fully assimilated, waiting for her expectantly.

Irene saw the astonishment on her face. She smiled faintly and gestured to the one empty sofa.

"Rogue. We've been waiting for you. Please, sit."

She hesitated, not because she was afraid, but because she was confused; taken aback, even, at the calm efficiency with which her own mind had been taken over and made their own.

"Yes – I have taken liberties," Irene spoke, sensing Rogue's thoughts. "Forgive me, my child. There is no other way. Please, sit."

The quiet gravity of her voice impelled Rogue to obey. There was a strangeness to the fact that she had twice begged forgiveness of her daughter in the same day – once in life, and once again in this non-life. Rogue swallowed, moved into the room, and sat slowly at the empty sofa. She heard Remy close the door softly behind him. He did not sit. Instead he went to the window and stared out onto the dream world she had created so long ago as a haven. She could not read his profile. As for the others – they looked at her with a silent expectancy, their expressions watchful. Rachel's with a kind of excited nervousness, Leech's with the wide-eyed artlessness of the child, Sage with a haughty prepossession, as if interested in the proceedings despite the dictates of her own better judgement.

Irene was, as ever, serene.

"You know," Rogue began falteringly, "what's goin' on outside then?"

Irene nodded.

"I've seen it. I know, for example, that my earthly body has perished."

She said it with equanimity, without the impression that it troubled her in the least.

"Why?" Rogue asked for what seemed the hundredth time but was only the second that day.

"Because they would have killed you," Irene returned softly. "And that was one thing that I could not allow to happen."

"Couldn't you have found some other way?" she asked desperately.

"Rogue." The word was said with an indulgent smile, as though admonishing a child who ought to know better. "You should know by now that the hardest thing of all is to direct the actions of other people. In a matter of life and death, the only one whose actions you can be sure of is your own. So it was with this. I prepared long for the moment. Part of my preparations included the reason you see me here now."

Rogue thought back on it. That day when she had absorbed her foster mother, thinking of it as nothing more than a demonstration of her power, of what was to be, but that had actually had a double intent; layers of intent, in fact, that Irene had kept hidden.

"So you see," Irene continued plainly, "the fact of my death is one I have long been reconciled to, that causes me little consternation – apart from the grief it has caused you, and to the ones I love."

There was only one other who loved her. Raven. Rogue didn't dare to speak.

"And to be honest," the little old woman added as an afterthought, "I have been alive so long that death should seem a welcome release – that of laying down a great burden."

There was a sombre silence in the room. The other psyches were perhaps contemplating their own mortality – or lack of it, considering their current state of being. It was a complex and surreal question, and naturally Rogue knew they had no time for it.

"You told me Ah had tools," she spoke up, wavering as she remembered what had been one of Irene's final words to her. "Ah'm assumin' this is what you mean."

"Yes," Irene replied simply.

"Then Ah s'ppose," Rogue continued her train of thought, "that all these absorptions – of Remy and Rachel and Leech and Sage – were somethin' you'd pre-planned too."

"Yes."

"So why did you let Remy become—" She stopped short, checking her anger, her eyes flickering up to his shade, who still stood at the window, quiet and expressionless.

"Because I needed him to have his power," Irene explained gently. "I knew what Sinister would do, of course – but contingencies were made. Hence—" And she spread her hands, indicating the room and its contents.

"What power?" Rogue queried on a breath.

"A prodigious power, Rogue. The ability to remake himself. To remake himself inside Time."

Rogue heard the words as if over a great divide. The obvious gravity behind them made it even more difficult to understand what they meant.

"And why do you need him to have this power?" she asked slowly, not sure if it was the right question.

"To make things right."

"And what exactly is wrong? Can't things just be?"

"Yes."

"So why can't you let them be?"

"Because I want the end purpose."

"And what is that?"

Irene was silent. And Rogue realised that she wasn't entirely sure what it was. She understood that Irene had drawn that end purpose. On the very last page of her diary, right at the back. After a slew of blank pages. An image of the Phoenix, rising from the ashes, blazing bright. But what that meant was an answer she didn't even think Irene herself possessed.

"What is the Phoenix?" she murmured to herself.

"The end purpose," Irene replied when she had expected none.

"Why?"

"To ask that question is to ask the universe itself," Irene returned evenly. "And I cannot answer it."

"So Ah'm a pawn," Rogue came to the only natural conclusion she could.

"We all are."

Rogue bristled. It was hard enough to believe that she was Irene's pawn, let alone the pawn of a great cosmic truth.

"Irene," Remy broke the silence at last. "We don't have much time."

Irene glanced at him with a twist of a smile.

"Your lover is a singular man," she addressed Rogue with a note of admiration and something more. "I had always known it would be so; but I left much to the whims of Fate in letting him out of my sight. It is gratifying to see that, despite this, he has turned out far better than I imagined."

It was pride in her voice. Rogue recognised it.

"So he was your pawn, as much as Ah was?" she questioned.

"In a way." Irene was matter-of-fact. "It was I, of course, who stole him from Sinister during the fall of the Black Womb project. That day, the day that Amanda Mueller destroyed the facility, there was not time to rescue you both. Raven made a decision. She took you. But I could not allow the boy to remain in Essex's clutches. I took it upon myself to liberate him; it almost cost me my own life. A blind woman and a baby, escaping a burning building. Raven was livid with me for doing what I did, but I knew I would succeed. And so I did."

She smiled placidly at the memory, as though to congratulate herself on a job well done.

"He needed to be somewhere far away and safe," she continued matter-of-factly. "He needed, moreover, to be somewhere where he would be ingrained with those traits most beneficial to my cause, and most disadvantageous to Sinister's. And lastly, he needed to be somewhere where he would fall in love with the woman who would set in motion a chain of events that would lead him back to Sinister, who would take away the great power he possessed before he would appreciate how to use it. And so I took him to the Thieves Guild. It was a spur of the moment choice, but it seems it was a good one. Jean-Luc LeBeau was exactly the influence he needed; Belladonna Boudreaux exactly the siren to tempt him into a fatal act that would shape much of the course of his life – his actions, his decisions, his emotions, his way of thinking. And of course, all these led him to you."

"Irene," Remy broke in again, and this time there was emotion in his voice, almost strangled as he tried to hold it down. Again, Irene smiled.

"But that is the past," she finished lightly. "And now we must turn our minds to the future." She looked around her a moment, as if pleased with the little assemblage before her. "Now," she began again, looking back at Rogue, "tell me why you are here."

"You're the one who brought me here," she protested. "Why don't you tell me?"

"Because it is useless for me to give you aid if you do not know what it is you fight."

"Then Ah'm here to fight Remy," Rogue replied impatiently. "Or Sinister. Ah don't know if it makes much difference right now. Essex said he had implanted his genetic memory into Remy. Ah don't even know what that means."

"It means that the two are synthesised, essentially," Sage explained in her deep, rich voice from the sidelines. "All living cells possess a genetic record of the development of the organism that hosts them. It's possible, through epigenetic DNA methylation, to encode the genome of a host with the recorded memory of another organism, without altering the genetic sequence of that host. Such processes are already seen in Nature, acting of their own accord, even in the tiniest of organisms. No doubt Essex discovered a way to reproduce it artificially, and on a much larger scale." She gave an apologetic smile. "Essex was no fool. As his offspring, Gambit was already genetically similar enough for there to be no danger of rejection."

Rogue thought about it. She didn't understand all of the words, but she got the gist of it.

"So Remy is Remy… And Essex too?"

"In a nutshell." Sage nodded. "His own DNA structure remains intact. Whatever he has of Essex's DNA structure has been essentially grafted on. Imprinted, so to speak. Nothing more."

"And nothin' less," Rogue murmured, looking up at Remy, who was again facing the window. "Essex's mind havin' access to Remy's full powers – that ain't somethin' to take lightly."

"Indeed," Sage returned witheringly.

"So how am Ah supposed to stop him?" Rogue asked helplessly. "He's too powerful. He can stop time, for Chrissakes. Out there he's tearin' apart the city, blowin' up Sentinels and settin' fire to Hounds just by thinkin' it! So what if Ah had enough power to stop him? How could Ah even get to him without him killin' me first?"

Remy turned to her then, his gaze penetrating.

"You think he would?"

She knew the idea offended him, was repugnant to him.

"It's a possibility Ah wouldn't like to test," she rejoined quietly.

"I – he – would never hurt you, let alone kill you," he said with grave conviction.

"But Sinister?"

He was quiet. At last Irene spoke up.

"You are important to Sinister too, Rogue," she commented in that same calm tone.

"To a certain point," Rogue conceded after a moment's thought. "Ah was a disappointment to him. When Ah absorbed Leech and Sage," and her eyes flickered over the two briefly, "he wasn't pleased with the process. It was too slow, too… inefficient. He wanted to clone me. He'd even taken a sample of my DNA, but Remy… he destroyed it." She paused, forcing herself to continue. "He wanted to create an army of me, but keep me in stasis, like he had Leech and Sage, so that my clones could imprint me as and when needed. He doesn't need me. All he needs is for me to be breathin', the bare minimum, that's it. The point is," she continued on a breath, "Ah could go up to Remy with every intention of stoppin' him and bam, next moment Ah could be comatose. Wouldn't be much of a fair fight."

"Dis ain't Essex we're talkin' about," Remy pointed out unsmilingly. "At least half of me is in dere – maybe more. You're assumin' I want you dead as much as Essex does. And I can tell you now, if dere's a way to keep you livin' and by my side, I'll take it."

He held her gaze, as if that alone could communicate the fact to her.

"All right," she finally agreed. "So let's assume Remy's prepared to sit around and talk. First of all, Ah'm gonna need to find him. And how the hell am Ah even s'pposed to know where he is?"

Rachel put her hand up meekly.

"You do know you have a first-rate telepath here, right?" she interjected. "One who just happens to have been a Hound too? If it's a mutant you want finding, there isn't anyone better. Not to mention which," she added enthusiastically, "I can give you some psionic shielding in case he tries anything, you know, psychic."

"Ah don't think Remy's capable of that," Rogue replied with a slight smile. "But thanks all the same, Rae." She took in a deep breath, began again. "Okay. So Ah guess Ah can locate him. Next comes the gettin' past his crazy new powers." Her gaze slid over in Leech's direction. "And it has to be you. There can't be any other way."

"Yes," Irene nodded, casting a glance in Leech's direction; the boy smiled at Rogue shyly. "Leech can inhibit any mutant's ability to access their power, however strong they may be."

"Right," Rogue nodded, business-like. "What's your range?" she asked the boy.

"Ten yards," Remy promptly answered for him. They seemed to have come to some understanding – all pertinent information regarding Leech would come from Remy. She guessed Leech had to trust someone and, from what she had seen in his memories, she was glad that he and Remy had made a connection, even if only in her head.

"That ain't much," she noted wryly. "It ain't as if Remy can't give me the slip or somethin'."

He shrugged.

"It's what you're gonna haveta work with. You'll find a way."

And she figured she'd have to. She looked back at Irene.

"Ah'm guessin' from what you've said that you still need Remy for whatever crazy purpose you're workin' toward. Which means that you don't want me t' kill him."

"No," Irene agreed, and Rogue heaved a sigh of relief.

"Good. Cos Ah don't think Ah could do that." She paused momentarily. "So what exactly do you want me t' do to him?"

"Strip away Sinister's genetic memory," Irene explained, as though it were the simplest thing in the world. "Undo what was done to him and make him whole again. So that he may do what he needs to do."

There was a long silence. Rogue stared at her hands, thinking hard. She knew by now that Irene never asked of her what was impossible, however tempted she might be to think it. Sitting here as she was, in this strange little gathering that had been planned possibly for years in advance, she knew moreover, that the answer to this conundrum could only be in this very room.

"It has to be you," she reasoned, looking up at Sage with sudden enlightenment. "Xavier said that your secondary mutation was the ability to unlock the latent powers of other mutants by manipulatin' their genetic template…"

"That is correct," Sage replied, looking distinctly pleased with herself.

"So that means that you can switch off parts of the code as well as on?" Rogue reasoned out loud.

"In theory," came the staid reply.

"In theory?"

She didn't like the sound of that.

"I've never tried it before." Sage's tone was matter-of-fact. "Giving a mutant their powers was a thing in itself. Taking them away is something entirely different. Akin to removing a limb, or an organ. I wouldn't have attempted such a procedure unless it was a matter of life and death. Not even for you."

Rogue knew instinctively what she'd meant – that if had she known this ten years ago, she might have been tempted to ask Sage to remove her vampire touch – more so once Remy had come into her life.

"So if you don't know how to use that power, how am Ah s'pposed to?" she asked incredulously. Sage shrugged.

"You'll just have to improvise. At any rate, you don't have time to practice."

Rogue frowned heavily.

"Seems like we're workin' on a lot of what ifs here," she observed gloomily.

"Or a lot of faith," Irene suggested.

"Or a lot of hope," Rachel added. Irene smiled at her. There was meaning in that smile, admiration, affection.

"So Rogue," Irene began, turning back to her, "will that be enough for you? Hope and faith and what ifs?"

She thought about it.

"Do Ah have a choice?" she murmured in reply.

"One always has a choice," Irene rejoined, but Rogue shook her head and said, "The choice Ah have ain't any kinda choice Ah can make."

"Of course it isn't," Irene agreed. "But it is a choice just the same."

Rogue drew in a heavy breath, knowing what she was prepared to do and knowing also that they knew she was prepared to do it.

"What about Remy?" she asked, looking up at him still standing by the window. "What's he goin' to do?"

"Give you an edge," he answered for himself this time. "You'll need it, if you're comin' up against me. It might not mean much, but I could gain you a few seconds in a scrap. Might make de difference b'tween life and death."

There was something in his tone, despite the control he'd displayed so far, that told her that he was far from happy about all this, yet was determined to go through with it anyway. What that meant exactly was a mystery to her, but she was beginning to be resigned to not understanding everything.

"So," Irene interrupted softly, "you may be assured of the help of every single person in this room. Here are your tools, Rogue. Will you use them?"

"You know that even if Ah really had a choice the answer would be yes," Rogue returned quietly; and Irene smiled.

"You have my help too," she comforted her. "The help of Destiny. It says that you will succeed."

Remy shot her look then, one that was almost pained. Rogue saw it and wondered. Irene, however, did not notice, or pretended not to. She stood.

"There is little time to lose, Rogue. When you awaken, you must be ready to act without a moment's pause. I – we – will be ready for you at a second's notice should you require it. But do not delay too long, my child. Time is of the essence."

Everyone stood, and, the meeting over, one by one they filed out of the room. Only Remy stood motionless. Again, Irene pretended not to notice. She passed through the door last and shut it behind her, leaving Rogue behind with Gambit.

"You don't want this t' happen," she spoke up quietly when they were finally alone and the sound of the others' footsteps had disappeared. He looked at her, his expression as carefully controlled as ever.

"Non."

She didn't understand it.

"Surely you can see there ain't no other way."

His eyes didn't even flicker.

"I know."

"Then why?"

And then his eyes flickered.

"De danger you're in, Rogue. Do I need any other reason?"

There was still that look in his eyes. The hardness, tempered with fear. She understood then just how much it had cost him to stand there and listen to everything that had just passed.

"Ah'm sorry," she said.

"For what?" he asked.

"For all this. For what happened to you on the outside. If Ah coulda stopped it…"

His smile was wry.

"One t'ing I've learned since gettin' t' know your foster mother, Rogue. Dere are some t'ings dat can't be stopped." Again, that pained look touched his eyes. She felt it as if it were in her very soul. She sensed there was still something he wasn't telling her, but that he wasn't willing to divulge it. That in itself hurt.

"Ah'm sorry 'bout Logan too," she added awkwardly. "Ah just… Ah'm feelin' so alone and scared right now and…"

He reached out, touched her lips with his finger, a featherstroke that shushed her mid-sentence.

"No apologies," he said. "I can't hold anyt'ing against you, especially not now." The corner of his mouth hitched faintly. "I always knew he had a t'ing about you. I can't say I blame him." He halted, and the smile faded. "If t'ings don't turn out de way we've planned, I won't blame you neither, chere. You need to be loved, every moment of every day. I trust Logan to give you dat, if not me."

She hushed him, unable to contemplate such a future.

"Nothin' bad's gonna happen," she reassured him, when she badly needed that reassurance herself.

"Really?" He cocked an eyebrow. "From what it sounds like, I ain't gonna be an easy mark. Whatever Irene says, if you need t' kill me, do it, chere. Don't hesitate."

His eyes were glowing with the same urgency she'd sensed earlier, as if to impart something of great importance to her. She shook her head.

"Ah can't do that, Remy."

"Why not? You nearly did once. You were prepared to, for Destiny's future, for somet'ing dat was bigger den us. What's changed?"

Again she felt it strange, realising there was so much he'd missed, that this was not the Gambit she had shared so much with over the past year. There were so many things that were impossible to explain. So many words she wished she had said to him on the outside that it would be useless to say here, now.

"Everythin's changed, Remy," she answered in a low voice. "Even after all the hurt, all the pain you've caused me… Even after what happened in Essex's lab… Do yah really think that Ah could take your life?" She sighed, feeling the rawness of the anger she still held for him shift inside her… and underneath, in a place that was dark and warm, she sensed it – glimmers of the tenderness and love she had borne for him. Begging her forgiveness. Jostling for recognition. All too fast and too soon. "Rachel asked me about us once, on the outside," she whispered after a lengthy pause. "About our feelin's. And y'know what Ah told her, Remy? That Ah wanted t' be with you. Always." His gaze flickered as she said it, and she continued softly, "There's a part of me that still wants that, Remy. There's a part of me that always will."

There was sadness in his eyes. As if a stalemate had been reached. He reached out and brushed her cheek with his fingertips. She felt only the faintest of touches.

"Den I hope dis crazy plan works," he murmured. "Cos if it doesn't… Dere ain't anyt'ing worse den knowin' dat I could be livin' out dere, willin' to make de decision to hurt you."

"Ah won't let it happen," she assured him. "Ah won't let you become that person. Even if it kills me."

"And if it comes to dat?" he spoke sombrely.

"Then you and Ah… We go out together, sugah. A flame extinguished. You won't feel any pain."

He smiled sadly.

"But he will. When he realises what he's done."

"If he does."

He made no response. His hand dropped from her cheek; he looked like he wanted to say more but was consciously refraining from doing so.

"You need t' go back," he said regretfully. "Dere ain't much time to lose."

She nodded, turned to leave. Then, on an impulse, she turned back and pressed her lips against his. There was barely a whisper of sensation, but she drew strength from it nevertheless, and that was all she had wanted. When she pulled away there was a smile on his face, small though real.

"Gotcha back, Rogue," he whispered.

"Got yours, Rem," she whispered back, and turned towards the light.

-oOo-

As soon as she opened her eyes she threw back her coverlet and leapt out of bed. First she went to Logan's room, but he was nowhere to be seen. She didn't have time to track him down. Her next choice was Jubilee, who happened to be in her room, hooked up to her laptop with a pair of humongous headphones.

"Jubes," Rogue called to her, poking her head round the door and not getting any response. "Jubes!"

Somehow the younger woman heard her. She slid the headphones off her ears and looked back at her.

"Damn, Rogue, you scared the shit outta me! Whassup?"

"Handcuffs," Rogue said quickly. "Do you have any?"

"Handcuffs?" Jubilee looked nonplussed. "Why the hell would I have handcuffs?"

"Ah dunno," Rogue replied impatiently. "Do you know where Ah can find any?"

"You could try the sex shop," Jubilee answered sarcastically. "If you want the pink fluffy variety that is. But somehow I don't think they're the kind of ones you're after." She paused, and her eyes widened. "Wait a minute! Emma has some!"

"What? Where?"

"I don't know! I just saw them once. Hanging round in her room."

That was good enough for Rogue.

"Where in her room?"

Jubilee shrugged.

"In her drawer. She was getting me something, and I saw it. But why do you need—"

But Rogue had already gone.

...

Emma's room had been left untouched since her near-fatal injury. It was difficult not to feel that she was breaking some sort of unspoken taboo in rifling through all her stuff, but Rogue told herself that, had Emma recovered and been out and about, she would've cooperated. Eventually. Luckily, it didn't take long to locate the handcuffs, which were exactly where Jubilee had said they were. It took her a little longer to find the key.

"What are you doing?"

Rogue turned slightly to see St. John in the doorway, looking none too impressed.

"Lookin' for somethin'," she retorted briefly, not wanting to waste time explaining things to him.

"Handcuffs? You gotta date you've not told me about?"

"Shut up, Pyro," she threw back at him, finally finding the key under a pile of notes. "This is serious."

"What's serious?" he quizzed her. "Apart from the fact that your boyfriend's up there destroyin' the whole fuckin' city and causin' major anti-mutant riots. You sure know how to pick 'em, Rogue. But if you ever decide to rethink your relationship with Mr. Remy Le-Fuckin'-Badass, my offer still stands. Just sayin'," he added, when she shot him an evil glare.

"For your information," she replied acidly. "I'm goin' to stop him."

He gaped at her sceptically.

"Riiiight. With a pair of handcuffs. Good luck with that, girl."

She stuffed the handcuffs and the key into the pocket of her jacket. She didn't have time to discuss it.

"When you see Logan, tell him what I'm doin'," she said, brushing past him and out into the hallway.

"What? That you're going to stop Gambit with a pair of handcuffs?"

She turned back to him, standing incredulous in the doorway.

"Tell him Ah know exactly what Ah'm doin', and he'd better not try to stop me."

"Right." Pyro gave her a helpless look. "And get myself gutted in the process? You're the one with the death wish, Rogue, not me!"

"Fine!" she shouted back, already on the move again. "Don't tell him! It's probably better that way!"

And the next moment she was gone, leaving Pyro still standing in the doorway, running a hand agitatedly through his strawberry blond hair.

"So if I tell him, I get gutted. And if I don't tell him, I get gutted." He shook his head slowly at the dilemma. "What the hell… It can't be worse than havin' to tell Mystique the same thing."

And off he went.

-oOo-