AN: Big thanks to Amy for all her valuable help with the prison stuff in general and the prison scene in this chapter in particular.

Years since Rogue's powers returned: 18-19

Chapter 25: The Thieves Guild is a Myth

Gambit returned to California after his visit to the moon but he only stayed long enough to arrange a trip to Madripoor. His fingers were feeling rather itchy after not stealing anything for so long. He packed lightly, partly because he preferred to travel light, and partly because taking too many material possessions into Madripoor was a bad idea.

He wasted little time getting down to business when he arrived, and his days became split between casing prospective targets in Hightown, hanging out at the Princess Bar, and taking the women who worked there out on dates.

On his third night there, Gambit noted that Sandra—a prostitute that was probably as old as he was, chronologically speaking—was behind the bar again. Since he hadn't known Lindsay to take three nights off in a row, he inquired.

"Lindsay went back to America," Sandra replied as she passed his drink to him.

"Ah, so you scored her job, huh?" Gambit asked, accepting his drink with a nod.

"I did," Sandra said, sounding pleased.

With all due respect to Sandra, Gambit felt that was likely for the best. She looked good for her age, but Gambit would well imagine that she had been losing more and more customers to younger women. Prostitutes weren't exactly hard to come by in Lowtown, so Gambit knew competition had to be fierce.

"Well, good for you," he said. "And what about... Rosette? I don't recall seeing her around."

While the women of the Princess Bar generally worked there long-term, it wasn't unusual for some of the faces to change every time he came around. New women would take the positions of other women who retired, or took on other work, but more likely there were deaths and sometimes worse.

"She died," Sandra replied. "About two years ago now."

"Ah. I'm sorry to hear that," Gambit said sympathetically. "May I ask how she went?"

Sandra's face turned grim. "New customer."

Gambit narrowed his eyes and his fingers tightened around his glass.

"I see," he said tersely. "Does this customer have a name?"

"Probably, but Patch already took it from him."

Gambit nodded, only mildly placated. "Good to know. Patch still comes here?"

"A little more often than you," Sandra replied, then noticed another patron after her attention. "Excuse me."

Gambit had some of his drink while Sandra attended to her customer. He had expected a disease, that being the primary killer. The Princess Bar wouldn't serve anyone who dared to brutalise the woman, and he and 'Patch' made a point of deterring anyone from even considering it in the first place. They weren't always there, though, so sometimes they were too late.

"Sandra?" Gambit said when she had a moment. "What about... Rosette had two boys, didn't she?"

Sandra nodded as she cleaned up a glass. "They were both out at sea when it happened, but they were both good boys and always checked in with their mama when they came into port. One's back at sea again, but the other owns a warehouse by the docks."

"Which warehouse?"

It was a burly, dark-haired man who caught Gambit's eye as he approached the warehouse. The man's skin had the leathery look of someone who had spent a lot of time at sea in the sun and he bore a number of scars as well as a tattoo on his shoulder. He held a clipboard in hand and his eyes went from looking at Gambit, to looking at the small bouquet of flowers Gambit held, and back up at Gambit's face with a mix of curiosity and distrust.

"I was looking for Bill," Gambit said when they got closer.

"That's me," Bill replied, continuing to eye him sceptically.

"I'm a friend of your mother's," Gambit said, feeling just a little awkward about this. "I only just found out about her passing. I wanted to give my condolences."

"A friend, huh?" Bill asked, knowing exactly the sort of male company his mother usually kept. Then his eyes fell back on the flowers and he frowned. "Are those lilacs?"

"Oui," Gambit replied, hoping he was remembering correctly that it was Rosette who liked lilacs.

"They were her favourite," Bill said slowly, his frown deepening as he looked at Gambit anew. Was it his imagination or had they met before?

"I know," Gambit said, feeling some relief. "She loved lilacs and hated roses."

Bill cracked a smile. "Yeah, that's right. Umm..."

He glanced back at his men who were busy loading some crates onto a truck.

"Just a minute," he told Gambit. "We're almost done here."

"Certainly."

"Why don't you go wait in the office? It's open."

Gambit agreed and headed inside. Thief that he was, he couldn't just sit and wait patiently. Figuring he had a couple of minutes, he started looking around. There was all the usual office paraphernalia; desk, chairs, filing cabinet. On the desk there was a log book sitting open. The lack of a computer didn't really phase Gambit; only the people of Hightown had those.

Because the log book was sitting open, Gambit simply had to have a peek. The words were written in a fine hand, and looked feminine, leading Gambit to believe that Bill had someone else doing his books for him. Probably his wife, since bookkeepers were expensive here and Gambit doubted that Bill generated enough paperwork to justify the expense. Gambit memorised the customer names on the page with a mental note to not rob these particular companies. At least, not this trip.

When Bill arrived, he found Gambit sitting on one of the guest chairs. He frowned at the sight of the open log book, but said nothing and simply put it away. Gambit assumed he didn't remember or didn't know it had been left out.

"Have we met before?" Bill asked as he sat down.

Gambit had met Bill when he and his brother had been much younger. However, Gambit was well aware he didn't look like he'd known Bill twenty or thirty years ago. Not knowing if Bill remembered him at all or if he was asking out of simple curiosity, Gambit was unwilling to confirm or deny anything.

"Well, we did both frequent the Princess Bar," he said and hurried on with: "Speaking of which, Sandra mentioned that Rosette was cremated? I wasn't sure if you or your brother had the urn, or if her ashes were scattered." He lifted the flowers. "Wasn't really sure the best place to take these."

"The urn's at home," Bill said, and tapped on part for the desk near Gambit. "Just put them here for now. I'll see to it they're put beside her."

"Merci," Gambit said and noted that Bill frowned slightly at the word. He put the small bouquet on the desk. "Anyway, I don't want to intrude or anything. Just wanted to pay my respects. Your mother was a fine woman."

"Yeah, she was," Bill said, studying Gambit thoughtfully. "You met her through the Princess Bar, I take it?"

"Oui," Gambit said, and wanting to take the attention off him, determined to change the subject. "Sandra mentioned you got the warehouse after your mother died. I bet she would have been really proud."

"She gave up a lot for us. Never really appreciated how much until we—my brother and I—were older," he said with a calculating expression on his face. "Didn't even get the whole picture until after she died either. Never expected an inheritance from her, but we got one. Seems she had a friend who was a generous gift-giver."

Gambit assumed that meant that Rosette had kept all the jewellery and other things he had given her over the years and her boys had sold them after she died. He had no doubt that Rosette would be pleased to see Bill hadn't squandered anything

"Ah, if only all of us were so fortunate," he said, having no intention of admitting the generous gift-giver was likely he.

"Indeed. In fact in hindsight, I think I even know who the guy was," Bill went on, his eyes locked with Gambit's. "I remember a few times there was a friend of Mama's who took us out on a couple of family outings. I particularly remember this picnic we went on 'cause it was the first time I ever had ice cream."

Bill had remembered him and knew exactly who he was. Gambit supposed he had done all he'd come here to do, so he figured this was his cue to bid his farewell.

"Must have been a real treat for you kids," Gambit said and began to stand. "Anyway, I'm sure you're busy and have plenty of stuff that needs your attention, so I'll take my leave—"

"Josh had a theory that he was our dad. Or one of our dads..."

Gambit paused and looked back at Bill. The thought that any of the prostitutes' children he took out over the years might think he was their real father—or even cared who their father was—had never occurred to him.

"I ain't your father, kid," he said softly. "Sorry."

"Yeah," Bill said, walking with him to the door. "That's what Mama said too."

Gambit gave him a nod and headed out. "Good luck to you, and your brother."

"And to you. And thank you."

Gambit found himself thinking over his meeting with Bill again a few days later when he took out one of the women of the Princess Bar, Cora, and her daughter Ava. It was Ava's seventh birthday, a fact of which she was quite proud. She was excited about going out but she was more excited about the little doll he gave her. Gambit wondered if Ava or any of the other kids of the Princess Bar might speculate about him being their father. He wasn't sure how he felt about that.

He pulled off three big jobs and then decided it was probably time for him to leave before he overstayed his welcome. He had gotten his hand back in which was the main thing.

Upon his return to the States, Gambit was given a choice of four commissions. The one he chose took him to Idaho. After his first week of casing the future scene of the crime, he decided to stop at a singles bar for a drink. After spending so much time with Rogue and the women of the Princess Bar, enjoying more emotional and cerebral relationships rather than sexual ones, he was in the mood for a little girlfriend hunting.

He bought a drink and then casually looked around the bar to see if there was anyone looking at him. There were three, which didn't really surprise him. He knew he was able to turn heads. There was a petite, black-haired beauty who caught his eye. He took his drink in hand and made his way over.

"Hi," he said, holding out his free hand to her. "My name's Remy, and you are?"

She smiled and lifted her hand to take his. "Amanda."

"Amanda," Gambit replied, lifting her hand to his lips to he could kiss the back of it. "Pretty. May I buy you a drink?"

"I'd love one."

Gambit was woken up one morning by the sound of his phone ringing, and it was with much reluctance that he answered it. It was so early in the morning that it was still dark in his hotel room.

"Yeah Henri?" he grumbled.

"Sorry to get you up so early," Henri said. "But we have a bit of a situation. You still in Idaho?"

"Mmmhmm."

"Davey's been arrested. He's been injured though. They operated on him during the night—broken leg. He's doped up on painkillers right now and of course, police guard until the doctor gives leave for him to be released."

Gambit yawned and then said: "And you want me to go get him right?"

"And his gear if at all possible," Henri said. "We believe it's with the police."

"Alright," Gambit said, reluctantly pushing himself up out of bed. "We have a 'house around here at all?"

"We do, and it was even recently restocked," Henri replied smugly. "Sending you all the details now."

"Merci," he said, making his way to the bathroom. "I'll call you if I need anything, or when the job is done."

"Thanks Remy."

They hung up. Gambit had a shower and then accessed the data Henri sent him. The safehouse was one hour away in one direction and the hospital was two hours away in another direction. The police station was twenty minutes off a direct route between the safehouse and the hospital, and he would need to get supplies from the safehouse first before hitting the hospital. He also had a date with Amanda in twelve hours.

Plenty of time.

Standing guard at the door of a private hospital room was incredibly boring. The beat cop wasn't really complaining, not when there were far worse things he could be doing. Nevertheless the clock seemed to be deliberately moving slowly just to annoy him.

He wiled away his hours with idle daydreaming and watching the various staff, patients, and visitors go down the hall. He refrained from conversation and made sure that only the attending staff checked in on the thief handcuffed to the bed inside. The handcuffs seemed a little over-the-top given the severity of the broken leg and the amount of strong pain medication the thief was on, but they were there all the same.

Finally, at long last, his replacement showed up.

"How's he doing?"

"Doped up on meds mostly," he replied and gave him the short rundown on the latest word from the doctor while he opened up the door.

The two policemen stepped inside and stared in shock at the empty bed. A pair of handcuffs dangled from the sidebar.

"No," said the beat cop. "There's no way. No one got in or out of this room without me seeing them. No one!"

"Apparently that's not true," replied his replacement.

Together the men began a hurried search for the missing thief and kept at it until they had to face facts: the thief was long gone. The escape was reported and upon their return to the station, the beat cop was reamed out for his incompetence by their chief.

After sufficient yelling had occurred, the chief requested to see the evidence collected on the robbery. He waited impatiently, until at last someone returned and very nervously informed him that the evidence bin for that case was not to be found.

"Check the computer," said one of the newer arrivals to the station, a transfer from New Orleans, before the chief could blow a gasket. "I bet you any money you won't find the electronic records either."

The chief looked at him hard while someone checked the computer.

"He's right, sir," he said. "I entered the data myself this morning. It's not there."

"Alright, what do you know about this DuPris?" the chief demanded

"Typical Thieves Guild MO," DuPris replied matter-of-factly. "They get really embarrassed whenever one of their own gets picked up and cover the whole thing up as quickly as possible. Mostly we got kids, but there's been an adult every now and then."

"The Thieves Guild is a myth," the chief said scornfully.

DuPris shrugged. "In that case, sir, we just got done by a bunch of posers. Oh, and there's about a 80% chance that Curran Labs is going to get robbed again in the next three days."

"The Thieves Guild is an urban legend created by incompetent police to cover up their negligence and failure to follow procedure," the chief said scornfully. "Get back to work."

"Yes sir," DuPris replied with the voice of someone who knows they're right and doesn't need others to believe them.

"Uh, sir?" spoke up another officer with a phone in her hand. "It's Curran Labs on the phone. They've been robbed...again."

DuPris wisely kept the grin off his face as the office fell silent and the police officers looked at each other. The chief growled.

"There is no Thieves Guild," he insisted. "Someone go check it out."

"You know," Henri said, looking at the computer chip Gambit just handed to him. "I don't recall finishing the job being on the list of things I gave you to do. Not that I'm complaining. Saves me the trouble of doing it."

Gambit chuckled. "Actually finishing the job was the easiest part. It wasn't that much of a detour and once I got there, I just walked in, grabbed it, and walked out again."

"Uh huh."

"Probably helped that I was cleverly disguised as a cop."

Henri laughed heartily and clapped Gambit on the back.

"I can see that," he said, closing the case and then gesturing towards the door behind which the Guild doctor was attending Davey. "You wanna go grab a drink while they're busy?"

"Tempting, but I'll have to pass," Gambit replied. "I have a date in a couple of hours and it's going to take one of those just to get back to the hotel."

"Of course you have a date tonight," Henri said with a teasing grin. "I should have guessed. Well, I'm going to stay in town for the next few days, so maybe we can catch up later."

"I'd like that."

Rogue lay on her bed and scrolled aimlessly through the long list of ebooks she had in her collection. There were only a couple of thousand of them and at times Rogue wondered if she really had read every single one of them (she had).

A very special title jumped out at her and after a moment's pause she selected it from the list displayed on her TV. The corresponding book loaded in her tablet. She curled up under the covers and looked down at the title page on her screen: "A Touch of Fire by S J Allerdyce." On the following page was simply "For Rogue" which delighted her no end.

When she first read those words when the book came out a couple of years ago she had been apprehensive. Moreso when she realised that the male lead could blow things up just by touching them. As things turns out, however, that was pretty much the only similarity he had with Gambit, and Rogue was quite able to enjoy the book without feeling like her friend had written a pornographic story about herself and her crush. The sex scenes were pretty hot though.

She glanced up and looked at the photo of Gambit she had on her bedside table.

"I hope you never find out about this," she said, and began her reading.

Gambit looked at the table. He had his dinner set in front of him, with a glass and a bottle of wine sitting in a bucket off to the side. His laptop was propped up so that when he sat down it was on his eye level. He glanced at the time on the computer's clock and then initiated a video-call. While he waited for a response on the other side, Gambit used his powers to light the candle.

The call was answered and Amanda's face appeared on the screen. She blinked as she took in the sight before her.

"Oh!" she exclaimed. "When you said you wanted to do dinner tonight, I never expected..."

Gambit chuckled. He'd been giving some serious thought as to how he could keep the romance alive in long-distance relationships and it occurred to him that simple things like dinner dates via video chats like he did with Rogue should go a long way to doing just that. A part of him wondered why he hadn't done that before, but then he realised that it did depend on the girlfriend and what technical skills, hardware, and inclinations she had.

"I have your approval then?" he inquired.

"Definitely," Amanda said. "I just wish I'd known exactly... I'm just having leftovers tonight."

"Luckiest leftovers ever."

Gambit eyed the Stark Shield while the app on his smart phone detected the frequency it was operating at. The shield might be energy efficient and cheap to run thanks to the efforts of Stark's R&D labs, but they were expensive to buy and install. Still, slowly by surely they were becoming more and more commonplace, particularly in cities.

In theory, the Stark Shields could prevent certain kinds of thefts as well as protect buildings from super-battles or the manifestation of a new mutant's abilities. In practice, however, Gambit found them to be nothing more than a minor hiccup. His position on the board allowed him the ability to get early access to the technology and he quickly passed this on to the techheads in the Guild. It was only a matter of time before they found a way around it.

The frequency of the shield was detected. Gambit hit the button and the shield went down for just a couple of seconds. It was just enough time for him to get over the threshold before the shield came back up again. There might have been all sorts of precautions to keep mutants from sabotaging the shields with their powers, but a psionic trap designed to counter technopathy wasn't going to hinder good old fashioned baseline human technology and know how.

From there the job went down just like any other and he stole the prize with no trouble. He only needed to disable the Stark Shield one more time when he was ready to leave and then he was home free.

Gambit was feeling much more optimistic than usual about reuniting with Amanda after three months apart from his girlfriend. Dinner dates via video-chat seemed so much more fulfilling than just phone calls and text messages alone.

Amanda was just as happy to see Gambit as he was to see her. Even more so when he swept her up and romanced her off her feet for the next month. Then Gambit got a call from Henri saying that a commission had come in for him and he had to go.

"So you're going again, huh?" Amanda said as they watched the sunset together.

"Afraid so," Gambit replied. "But I'll be back in—"

"A few weeks, a couple of months," Amanda cut in and Gambit could feel his heart sink. "Remy, I... I don't think I can do this."

Gambit kept his eyes firmly on the horizon. "I see."

"I'm sorry."

"So am I."

"I just... Being with you is wonderful, but I can't just..." she sighed. "I don't wanna be one of those girls who waits at home all the time for her man to call, you know?"

"I never asked you to stay home, chère. I never asked you to put your life on hold for me," he replied. "Tried to keep the romance alive as best I could."

"I know and I appreciate it, but—"

"Just not enough for you."

"Don't put it like that."

Gambit turned to her with a wry grin. He tucked his fingers under her chin and lifted her head to look at him.

"Why not?" he asked. "It's not really enough for me either. But I love my work so... Well, something has to give."

Amanda wrapped her fingers around his hand.

"I'm glad you have a job that you love. If only we were all so lucky," she said. "But if you ever decide to settle down here, give me a call."

Gambit grinned at her.

"I'll keep that in mind," he said, but they both knew it would never happen.

Silence fell as the sun dipped below the horizon.

"So, umm, I guess this is it then," Amanda said.

"Guess so," Gambit replied.

"I hate break ups."

"You and me both."

"Break up sex?"

"Yeah, I prefer it when things end on a high note too."

"Sooo," Rogue said slowly, eyeing Gambit through the screen as if she wasn't sure what she was seeing. "You're okay with it?"

"Well, breaking up always sucks but I think I did a better job of managing the long distance this time," Gambit replied as he refilled his glass. "I started doing video chat dates and stuff, and it seemed to go down well."

"You weren't already doing that?" Rogue asked with a raise of her eyebrow. "We've only been doing that for years."

"I know," he said with a grin. "And I feel kind of stupid for not applying it to my girlfriends earlier, but..."

Rogue chuckled and he drank.

"Well, it's nice to see you hopeful right after a break up for a change and not down in the dumps," she said.

"I don't get down in the dumps," Gambit replied with a frown.

"Oh, of course you do, sugar," Rogue insisted. "Granted, not for very long. You're generally pretty good at bouncing back."

"Rather laugh than cry, ma chère."

Gambit's commission took him to Canada, and this was followed by a trip to Spain, a detour to France and a stop at Monte Carlo. He had a number of one night stands and flings along the way, but didn't really click with anyone enough to make another attempt at a long distance relationship. In Monte Carlo he met up with Madeline again. They had a lovely couple of weeks together but seemed to realise that something more than that was out of the question.

He returned to California and found himself getting invited to more poker games with Tony, amongst other things. He started strongly suspecting that Tony was using him to get out of the house and away from some of his domestic responsibilities. Gambit could picture it so well:

"I'd love to, Pepper, but LeBeau's back in town and he wants to go play poker. Have to keep the stockholders happy, right?"

Gambit didn't bother trying to confirm, though. He was trying to keep Tony in his pocket, after all, and he wasn't about to question his good fortune.

Superbowl Sunday found them in the home theatre at Gambit's place.

"Ha!" Tony said as he sat down on the lounge, putting the drink he'd brought on the coffee table in the process. "I knew I make the right choice in coming here instead of Steve's."

"Cap's having a Superbowl party, huh?" Gambit asked, joining him on the lounge as he switched on the TV.

"Yeah, and have you seen the size of his screen? Paltry 47 inches," Tony said, then gestured to Gambit's 102 inch projector setup. "Now this is a screen."

Gambit glanced over at Tony. "How big's yours?"

"150," he replied. "And it keeps getting wasted on The Wiggles."

Gambit chuckled.

"What?" Gambit asked. "You don't have more than one screen?"

"Of course I do, but the 150 inch is the biggest," Tony replied. "Why does the pre-game always take so long?"

"They do it just to annoy you," Gambit said. "You specifically."

"That's what I figured."

"Alright! Break it up!" Rogue bellowed upon teleporting into one of the occupied inmate recreation rooms. "Back to your cells right now! Play time's over!"

She glared hard at the three men who were still brawling. The rest of the inmates, bar one, scampered off to their cells quickly. The one who didn't, Sean Garrison, sidled up to her instead.

"What part of break it up don't you understand?" Rogue demanded, telekinetically taking control of the three fighters and pulling them away from each other.

"Perhaps by 'it' they think you mean each other," Sean commented as the three fighters continued to struggle in mid air to continue their fight.

Rogue glared at Sean through the visor of her helmet. If she found out that the pheromone emitting mutant had anything to do with this, he'd be in solitary confinement for two months.

"No one asked you. In fact, I outright told you to go to your cell, Garrison," she said, and her hand reached up for the seal on her helmet. "I expect my instructions to be immediately followed."

Rogue looked back at the fighters. She'd broken up brawls in this manner before, but the men weren't behaving as the others had in the past.

"All the occupied cells are now sealed, Madame," James reported to Rogue and Rogue alone through the comm system in her suit.

"Well," Sean replied, stepped backwards, "I guess I'll be off then..."

"Too late," Rogue told him.

Rogue unsealed and lifted her helmet and was immediately hit not only with the life force of the four inmates, but also the smell of the lusty pheromones that Sean had saturated her immediate area with. It was only through her multiple doses of enhanced smell and the possession of Sean's own power that she was able to detect them, the latter of which also provided her with immunity to the mutant-created pheromones.

Rogue lowered her helmet and resealed it, blessedly cutting off the absorption although many of the pheromones were now inside her suit. She telekinetically set all four inmates on the floor and released them.

"James, please prepare Decontamination Rooms One through to Five, and note in the log that Sean Garrison is in confinement for the next sixty days," Rogue said, then rattled off the names of the others and stated that they had thirty days.

"Yes Madame."

She felt a little bad about punishing the three fighters, as she realised they were victims of Sean's pheromones, but prison discipline had to be enforced. She couldn't not punish someone because she felt sorry for them.

Rogue went about transporting the four inmates into separate Decontamination rooms, and she made sure that the injuries of the inmates who had been fighting were only minor before sealing them in. Rogue went into the fifth room herself. Just before she got the decontamination cycle in her room started (she wouldn't start on the inmates until after they'd woken up), she told James to flush and cycle the air in Rec Room Three.

She stewed over the situation as she showered. It had all been set up for her benefit. The inmates knew quite well that she had multiple abilities on top of being able to knock them into comas just by breathing the same air as them. And although she hadn't outright told them that she was taking theirs, she knew some of them had figured that out for themselves. Sean was fairly new, so she figured he hadn't worked that out yet. If he had, surely he would have realised that his plot to buy her cooperation through supplying her with pleasure pheromones like some kind of drug dealer wouldn't work. On the other hand, perhaps he was just cocky enough to believe she wouldn't be able to resist him even if she had his powers.

When the decontamination process was finally over Rogue told James to let her know when the inmates had waken.

"Yes Madame," James replied. "The air in Recreation Room Three has now been fully recycled."

"Good. Let the other inmates back in," Rogue said. "They may have an extra hour of social time today, but let me know immediately if there's any sign of aggression. If there is we may have to put the lot of them through decontamination, and do their cells as well."

"Yes Madame."

Since the decontamination procedure required the removal of clothes, Rogue teleported back to her residence to dress while the clothes she'd been wearing and her hazmat suit were going through their own decontamination process. After that she started on the report for the incident with the intention of finishing it after the all the decontamination processes and social time was over.

Sean and the other three inmates didn't wake up for two and a half hours. While James instructed them in the decontamination procedure, Rogue brought around clean clothes for all of them to change into. Rogue was glad James was able to monitor them in Decontamination, as she really wasn't interested in watching them in all their naked glory like some kind of pervert.

After the procedure had finished, Rogue first escorted Sean back to his cell in one of her extra hazmat suits.

"You liked it," he said as they walked. "You liked how I made you felt. How I can make you feel."

He continued talking like that all the way, trying to entice her. Rogue, whose patience had already worn quite thin, used her telekinesis to hold one of his legs in place for just a moment, just long enough to cause him to trip and fall flat on his face.

"Oh no how terrible," Rogue said blandly. "You tripped and fell. Perhaps you should talk less while you're walking."

Sean scowled at her as he picked himself up, but they weren't far from his cell at that point and Rogue opened up the door.

"You're in solitary confinement for the next two months," she said stonily as she watched him slowly enter. "And for the record? I'm immune to your powers. Confinement starts now."

She telekinetically shoved him in the rest of the way and sealed the door shut, ignoring anything he might have said in response. Fortunately, she wouldn't have to deal with Sean much, if at all, during his confinement as James could take care of most of the day-to-day stuff.

Rogue headed back to the other inmates and escorted them back to their cells individually as well. She didn't bother worrying about handcuffing them or anything. There was no need. All of them knew there was no chance of the inmates being able to overpower her. It was much more to their benefit to cooperate.

"You have thirty days confinement for fighting," she told each of them. "The coma took you past lunch time, but I'll bring you round something shortly."

She still felt bad about punishing them for something that hadn't really been their fault, but responded firmly and stuck to her guns when one protested. She'd already had to deal with one attempt at manipulation by an inmate today and she didn't care to encourage more to try.

Gambit set his beer back on the bar and looked at Logan with a raised eyebrow.

"You're opening another school?" he asked dubiously.

"Yep," Logan replied, lifting his own beer to his lips.

"Don't you already have a second school in Mutant Town?" Gambit inquired.

"They started that school on their own," Logan said. "We just help out occasionally and have interschool competitions."

"Yeah? Like what? Mutant baseball?"

"Exactly."

Gambit snickered. "And pray tell, just how do the rules for mutant baseball work? Wouldn't all those different powers make things overly complicated?"

"Not complicated at all, Cajun," Logan replied after another swig of his beer. "You can only use your powers on yourself or your teammates."

"And?" Gambit asked.

"And what?"

"That's it?" Gambit said, giving Logan a long look. "Just limiting who they can use their powers on?"

"Yep," Logan replied, paused, and then added: "Oh wait, they can use area of effect abilities as long as they effect everyone and everything."

Gambit shook his head. "And just how do you enforce any of this? Honour system?"

"Part that, and we've got psionic traps in the equipment," Logan replied. "Well, psionic alarms would be more accurate. Anyone tries to interfere with them directly, everyone knows about it."

"And indirectly?"

Logan shrugged. "It's just high school. And psionic alarms are cheap when you know the folks who make 'em."

"Hmm," Gambit leaned into Logan. "What if someone tries to hack into them the conventional way?"

"It's just an alarm," Logan replied. "What are they going to do? Not even enough mechanics to control it by remote control."

"They only need to turn the alarm off, mon ami," he said with a grin. "Man, I really hope mutant sports take off. If things like this become mainstream..."

Logan glared at Gambit as his friend rubbed his thumb and forefinger together.

"There are other ways to monitor power usage," Logan pointed out. "Telepaths, people with similar abilities—"

"But no way to monitor the monitors," Gambit replied slyly. "Everyone has a price."

Logan drank some of his beer and then gave Gambit a long look.

"Fine," he said. "If mutant sports ever go mainstream, remind me never to bet against you."

Gambit laughed.

There was quiet for a time as they drank. They finished off their beers and Gambit signalled for a couple more.

"Is Stormy okay?" he asked while they waited for their drinks to arrive.

"Sure," Logan replied. "Why do you ask?"

Gambit shook his head and shrugged. "I don't know. Something just seems a little... off about her, but I can't seem to put my finger on it."

Logan didn't reply and Gambit figured that was probably the end of the conversation. The bartender slid their beers over.

"She's losing her scent," Logan said quietly.

Gambit frowned at Logan. "Stormy? Losing her scent?"

Logan nodded, his eyes on his beer. "Her powers have been on the increase. We had a blizzard a few years back, before Kendall was born. It was a strong enough blizzard that she didn't think she'd be able to do anything about it without burning herself out. Last year we saw another blizzard that was predicted to be stronger than that one. She stopped it."

"Well, that's pretty cool but what does that have to do with losing her scent?" Gambit asked. "That doesn't even make any sense."

"Don't know. All I know is unless we're in the same room I can't smell her as well as I used to," Logan said, then gave Gambit a suspicious look. "And don't go saying something stupid about how maybe it's not 'Ro, maybe it's me losing my sense of smell in my old age."

"Well, I don't have to now," Gambit replied with a smirk, lifting his beer in Logan's direction. "You just said it for me."

"I can smell everyone else just fine. Just like normal. It's only 'Ro who's different," Logan said, glaring back at Gambit.

"You have a habit of sniffing people, mon ami?" Gambit asked teasingly. "I don't think Stormy would approve..."

Logan gave a low growl. Gambit grinned impishly at him.

"Look," Logan said. "You're the one who noticed that there was something different about her. I was just answering your question."

As Gambit watched Logan skull down his beer he figured that this was probably sensitive territory. He knew he enjoyed smelling his various girlfriends, and for someone with Logan's sense of smell, not being able to smell his wife as well as he used to would be a big deal.

"So," Gambit said slyly. "Wanna start a fight?"

Logan set his now-empty beer glass on the table. "Sure."