The location that the text from the unknown sender specified is a large empty factory that used to make boats on a Staten Island pier.

I arrive early to survey the building from a distance, and all is quiet as the sun dips low.

It's obviously a trap.

You would think that I'm used to these situations by now because I've been through so many of them. But I don't think you're supposed to get used to these. The fear of the unknown is very real, and second-guessing all the possibilities of who you will meet and how you will meet them really gets the adrenaline going, and that adrenaline is the only thing I really can trust to get me out of whatever shit show that awaits me.

At 7:00 on the dot, I stroll down the pier to the abandoned factory, a gym bag of money strapped to my back. I come alone.

If this was a threat against me, I probably wouldn't have bothered with the money. But this is a threat on Rogue's, so I decide to play it safe.

I step in through the tall doors that have been pulled open. It's dark inside with no windows. I take a few more steps, and suddenly I hear the doors behind me loudly roll shut with a resounding clang, the sound of a slew of firearms being locked and loaded reverberate all around me, and the overhead lights power on, flickering down the line.

An armada of hired mercenaries surrounds me from all angles with weapons trained. A slim figure stands on a metal platform in the middle of the complex.

"Thanks for coming on time, Gambit." A woman steps out into the light. Brown hair, average height, average build, average face – remarkable in that unremarkable way. Now I remember who she is.

"Blindspot I take it?"

A few years back, Rogue took an abrupt trip to Japan without telling anyone. The X-men followed her there, only to find her disoriented and hell bent on destroying us in the middle of Tokyo. She had a run-in with a friend she knew from her Brotherhood days, Blindspot, who tried to make Rogue think she was seventeen again so they could be best friends like the good, ol' days. After Rogue regained her memories, she let Blindspot go out of pity.

I had only met her briefly, but from what Rogue filled me in on afterwards, I could tell that she would be the kind of crazy that would not get better over time.

"You remember me." She sounds surprised.

"Sure," I smile. "Heard you an' my wife were close friends growing up."

"She's not your wife!" she snarls all of a sudden, throttling the metal bar of the platform she's standing on. "She's not anyone's!"

"So dis is what it's about?" I ask her. "You upset Rogue got married?"

"To you! I'm upset she got married to you!"

"Yeah, lot of dat goin' around," I sigh.

"I know who you are, Remy LeBeau! You're a thief! A con-artist! A low-life!"

"I'm gon' object t' de low life comment, chere. I mean you de one technically blackmailing y'friend for 10 million dollars."

"You think I care about the money? I have more money than you can possibly dream!"

"Okay…? Den, why'd you make demands f'me t'bring it?" I ask confused.

She pauses. "I... I don't know! It made sense at the time! And I thought it was strange to just ask you to come!" she yells.

"What?" I exclaim in disbelief. "It wasn't exactly easy t'get 10 million dollars in cash last minute, chere!"

"Unimportant!" she announces.

"Merde, you're bad at dis," I realize. "Fine! Den if not de money, what do y'want for de photos an' de video?"

"I want you dead! You played right into my trap, Gambit!" she says with renewed confidence. "You were so hyped up on trying to play her hero that you never noticed that my target was you all along. The photos, the video, the threat to take it to the press… all of it! It was to threaten you and take her away from you!"

I nod slowly. "I gotta say, chere, y'did get me worked up a bit. So, kudos. Dat being said, I honestly don't think killing off her husband is gon' get you in her good graces again."

"Maybe not. But it'll make me happy," she hisses venomously. "Kill him!"

Before the gunmen lay into their weapons, I whip out my bo-staff and strike the two hired guns closest to me. I duck under their falling bodies as bullets rip through the air. I launch myself onto a tall stack of crates and quickly somersault over all of them to stay airborne. The cards I had planted with delayed charge upon entering the building are triggered. Three explosions rip apart the floor, sending droves of bodies into the air.

I pounce onto the back of a merc, launch myself off of him and aerially kick through three bodies, using them as human scaffolds to propel myself forward to the middle platform where Blindspot is. I plant my staff in the metal grating she's standing on and catapult easily over, neatly landing directly behind her.

I pull my bo-staff flat against her neck and slam her against the metal bar in front of her.

"Call off y'men, Blindspot."

The guns are trained at both of us. She struggles against me, trying to pull my arm from around her neck.

"It's over, petite," I tell her. "Look, I don't wan' t'hurt you. Rogue doesn't have a lot in childhood friends, and I'm already responsible for killing one of 'em. An' if you keep struggling, I may be 2 for 2."

She stills a bit. "Who? Cody?" she gasps. "You killed Cody?"

"Well, not really. I didn't kill Cody. My ex-wife did."

"Ugh, you're the worst! I mean, not because of Cody though. That boy should have been pulled off life support a long time ago. The way Rogue wouldn't let go of him was just unhealthy."

I kind of nod encouragingly. "Okay, so…" I try spelling it out for her. "You can see how not letting go is an unhealthy…"

"It's bad enough you're married to her, but Rogue doesn't even warrant being your first wife? She married a divorcee?" She trembles. "No, Gambit, you're finished!"

She rams a concealed taser against my rib, the electric shock making me drop my staff. She slams her foot down on the edge of the platform, and suddenly, the floor beneath me swings open and I fall through. I land with a thud against the floor, look up through the hole I fell through and see her with a huge harpoon-looking gun which she fires down at me. A web of black cables blankets around my body. The cables grapple onto my limbs, slamming them against my sides like I'm being constricted by a large octopus.

She jumps down through the hole, lands on top of me and straddles my chest.

"This was what I wanted all along. I don't want to kill you," she says quietly, the whites of her eyes seem to dwarf her pupils. "I want to make you forget! Say goodbye, Gambit. When I'm done with you, you will never know Rogue even existed."

Her hand shoots out, grabbing me by my head. Blue, pale light crackles from her finger tips and it flashes before my eyes. I clench them shut.

And I feel a dull wave of static electricity pull across from one temple to the other, and I recognize this feeling from somewhere, like a whiff of nostalgia.

The blue light wanes and then finally cuts out. She stares at me with a completely baffled look in her eyes.

I stare back at her.

I don't feel any different.

"What's going on?" she suddenly asks, bewildered.

I remember now what the feeling was. It's the same feeling I get when I'm contending with the telepaths; only compared to powerhouses like Xavier and Phoenix, it barely registered.

She looks at her hands and then down into my eyes. "How come my powers won't work on you?"

I chuckle to myself. "Figures… I couldn't forget dat woman even if I tried," I grin. "But maybe we tell her it did work a li'l, just in case I miss an anniversary or two?"

"You…!"

A huge boom resounds as the roof explodes open. The whole building shudders as Rogue torpedoes in through the factory ceiling.

Whatever gunmen left over open fire at her frantically, but the bullets deflect off her left and right, and she mows down almost all of them in one fell swoop, like pins to a bowling ball.

Blindspot scrambles off of me and flees.

A few screams of panic and grunts of pain later, Rogue is back to my side, on her knees, still in her pink dress.

"Remy, you okay?"

"Cookie crumbs."

Her eyes widen, pausing. "Strawberry shortcake," she says, looking at me with concern.

I smile. "It was unlikely, but I just wanted t'be sure."

"What the hell, Remy? You had a run-in with Mystique, too?"

"I'll tell y' about it later."

She grabs the thick cables surrounding my body in her lily-white hands and rips it to shreds.

"What took you so long, chere?" I ask her, lying still on the floor as she goes to town on the ties that bind me.

"Ah'm sorry. Like… Ah couldn't find someone to look after Aisha. You know it's really hard to find a babysitter last minute? And when your top picks are unavailable, and you're like runnin' out of options and time, your standards on who could probably look after a child start gettin' real low."

When she frees my arms, I pull her down on top of me and give her a hug.

"I missed you, Anna."

"Oh," she says a little surprised, but then hugs me back. "Feelin' sentimental, are we?"

I chuckle softly, stroking the back of her head. I hear the distant sound of a speedboat powering on. "Think Blindspot's getting away. We probably should go after her."

She pulls me up to sitting. "Ah'll be right back."

She takes off, busting through the large factory doors towards the dock. A few seconds later, she flies in carrying the whole dripping speedboat and drops it unceremoniously onto the main floor of the factory. She hovers over to where Blindspot is collapsed over the wheel, absolutely frozen and quaking.

"Rogue… Rogue, I can explain."

I stand and lean back onto some crates, rolling my neck to pop out the kinks.

Rogue stares down at Blindspot with a terrible calm about her that even makes the rosy skirts of her dress billowing against her slim legs seem menacing.

"Ah thought we came to an understanding, sugah," she says, her voice low, her face void of expression.

"You…" Blindspot pauses, tears starting to build in her eyes, her voice shaking. "You weren't supposed to get married to him, Rogue!"

"Wh-what?" Rogue blurts out in confusion. "Are you kiddin' me?!"

"You an' me, we're cut from the same cloth," she insists. "We take what we want, we don't settle, we don't compromise, we don't tie ourselves down to anything or anyone that can keep us from being free."

Rogue shakes her head. "Ah don't remember promisin' you those things, Blindspot. You didn't return all my memories back when Ah asked you to and you expect me to understand you?"

"What I didn't return to you were only the memories that Mystique wanted me to keep from you."

Rogue swallows. "The photos," she says in a reserved voice. "So they were real? You took them?"

Blindspot nods. "I did, and I have more. Those were our best memories!"

"There was a dead guy in the back of 'em!" Rogue yells at her.

"He wasn't dead! No one died. We were just havin' fun."

"Did they… did they ever touch me?" Rogue asks quietly, her hand pressed to her chest.

Blindspot shakes her head violently. "No, of course not! I would never let them touch you in that way or harm you. You and I, we would take turns on getting what Mystique wanted and then we just pranked them, that's all."

Rogue sighs in relief. I sigh in relief.

"I wanted to tell you, Rogue," Blindspot cries, tears flowing freely. "I regretted not telling you the last time we met. And I thought… I thought maybe I would the next time… but then, then I heard you got married… to him!"

She flails an arm towards my general direction and bawls like a baby.

Rogue sighs, brushing her hand over her eyes like she literally has a headache. She finally lifts her head up to train her eyes at Blindspot quietly, brows pinched in thought, hands on her hips, and I wonder what she's planning. She then glances at me, and her expression is one of just frustration.

She picks up a metal bar lying on the floor and warps the bar around Blindspot's body and fastens it in a knot around the wheel of the boat.

"You stay put, sugah," she firmly tells Blindspot. "Ah ain't done with you."

Rogue flies towards me, lands a little ahead of me and walks the rest of the way, her steps getting less and less certain as she approaches me. She crosses her arms and looks down at the floor, meaning she's struggling.

"Remy…" she starts. "Ah didn't know the picture was real."

I sigh and chuckle at the same time. "I don't care if dey real. An' maybe y'don't know me so well if y' think dis changes anything between us."

She smiles, but it doesn't reach her eyes. "Ah don't…" she stops, looking askance towards Blindspot. Then she pulls in really close to me and speaks in a hushed voice, brows pinched as she looks down at my chest. "Ah don't know if Ah want the memories back."

I smile down at her a little sadly, saying nothing. It's so like her to always assume the worst about herself.

"That photo of me… Ah looked like Ah was enjoyin' myself. Like… like Ah was finally turnin' into the terrorist Mystique wanted me to be. And Ah don't want that on my conscience," she says, a disturbed look on her face.

"Makin' bad decisions is just a part of growing up, chere. Knowin' what y'did in the past don't change who you are now."

"Ah know that, but like… Ah'm," she sighs heavily. "Ah'm happy."

I raise my brows. She says it like it's a problem.

"Ah'm so happy, Remy. Like, Ah've never been this happy in my life. And a part of me is just waitin' for that other shoe to drop, and maybe this is it?" She bites down on her lip. "But maybe Ah don't need to know everythin' about my past. Maybe Ah'm happy because Ah don't' remember all the jobs Ah did for Mystique."

"Maybe," I shrug one shoulder, and I can't keep the smile off my lips and the warmth spreading in my chest from hearing her sudden confession. "Or maybe… dis is like dat time y'listened t'dat hip-hop song wit' all de cuss words edited out. Remember how y' found out de things dey were actually sayin' weren't half as bad y'imagined?"

She cracks a crooked smile, still looking at my chest. "Yeah, Ah remember," she says, nodding weakly. "Ah actually like that song now, like the non-edited version."

"See?" I smile back at her. "Whatever dey took from you, dey might not be pleasant but dey yours. Dey shouldn't get t'lord it over you like some kind' of weapon, chere."

She nods, considering my words thoughtfully.

"Yeah, Ah guess you're right," she finally sighs, looking grieved but resigned to do what she has to do.

We're close enough that I don't have to lean far to place a kiss on her lips. "I'm glad you're happy," I whisper and pull her forehead against mine. I stare into her eyes. "I'm happy, too."

"Yeah?" she asks, a little surprised. Then, the beginning of a blush spreads on the apples of her cheeks as her eyes meet mine then dart away, and I wonder when the last time I saw her blush was. "You're actin' a little different today."

"I am?"

"Yeah, like super sweet and it's throwin' me off." She glances up and seems stuck between wanting to glare at me or smile at me.

I smile at her lopsidedly. "I'm always sweet, chere."

She shakes her head. "No, it's different… like the way you're lookin' at me." She narrows her eyes and whispers, "Strawberry shortcake."

My brows knit together. "I ain't Mystique," I sigh.

She gasps. Her mouth falls open, eyes wide in a way I know she's mostly joking. "That ain't the code word," she whispers, her fingers on her lips.

"Pralines an' cream," I grouse.

She raises an eyebrow. "Pralines an' cream? Ain't it Vanilla Pudding?"

"Non, Vanilla Pudding is after Pecan Pie."

"Oh, was it?" she thinks about it. "We should probably review the code."

"You need to review it, chere. I got mine memorized."

She smiles. "So… did it work?"

I grin at her. "Like a charm."

Her smile widens and her eyes crinkle as she silently cheers, "Yay us!"

She looks so damn adorable.

I brush the hair out of her eyes and fondly stroke my thumb across her cheek. "Yay us."

Her enthusiasm dims. "See, you're doin' it again."

"Doin' what?"

"Like lookin' at me like Ah have four months to live," she says. Then her look turns to one of concern. "Did Mystique say something to you? Or do anything? Ah swear if she did anythin', Ah'm gonna – "

I gently hold her by her arms but squeeze them firmly enough that she stops and pays attention. "Dere's a video of you, chere."

Her eyes widen. "What?" Her frame stiffens in my hands. "Of what? It ain't just a photo? There's a video, too?"

I nod.

Fear flashes across her eyes.

"An' I watched it…."

Her jaws clench as she swallows.

"An' I realized again why I loved you."

Flashback to Greenwich Village. Manhattan, New York.

My thumb hovers over the video file.

I swallow. And press the play button.

Rogue looks at the camera, sitting on the bed, wearing a thin white tank top that hangs loosely against the curves of her blossoming body. She pulls a strap down past her shoulder and stares up into the camera. Her green eyes are wide and she's chewing bubble gum. Her soft, full lips pull into a pout and then she blows a bubble that gets so big that she crosses her eyes to look at it. It pops and she peels the gum off the tip of her nose.

"Did ya see that? That was really big," she says. Her voice is thinner.

She looks to her side, bringing her profile into view, like she is looking at her reflection in a mirror. She brings the curls of her long hair to blanket onto one side of her shoulder. She fixes the long bangs around her face.

"Oh my God, you're so pretty, Anna – like disgusting beautiful. You could seriously be a model or an actress!" Blindspot's voice can be heard from outside of the frame.

"That'd be the day!" she laughs, her white teeth flashing, as she looks past the camera.

"Like what are you thinking about when you're making your 'I'm-not-that-innocent' face?" Blindspot asks like she's interviewing her.

"This face?" She tosses her hair and glares at the camera sensuously and runs her tongue slowly along the edge of her front teeth. And her gum falls out of her mouth, and she laughs in surprise, trying to find where it landed.

"Tell us the method to your acting, Anna Marie!"

She's back with the sexy face. "Ah just think of crazy hot guys!" she says breathlessly into the camera.

"Like Longshot?" Blindspot teases, succumbing to a fit of giggles.

"You laugh now, but just you wait, sugah." She strikes a finger in the air importantly. "Ah'm marryin' him."

Blindspot shuffles with something off-camera. "You think we should take one with your top completely off?"

She glares past the camera again. "You're enjoyin' this, ain't ya?"

"No, of course not!" Blindspot giggles. "I'm just sayin' if you really want his wife and kids to shit their pants, you need to do something more risqué."

"Hmm," she pulls her lips to the side and scratches her forehead. "We can get Senator Rapist to participate in the photo more." She grabs the hand of the unconscious naked man behind her and places it on her thigh.

"Maybe a little more up," Blindspot suggests.

"Up?" she slides it up her thigh. "Gross. His hand is all clammy. Ah'ma gonna need ta Purell after this."

"Ew," Blindspot says. "Hey, so… did he really rape that girl?"

Rogue tenses a little, looking down briefly, then nonchalantly busies herself with fixing her hair again. "Yup."

"Thanks for doin' this," Blindspot mumbles. "Like I don't know if I would've been able to handle seein' the rape."

"Yeah, well, Ah guess Ah owed you for that time you got that guy dressed up as a clown for me." She shivers. "Clowns."

"So, does it not absorb when he's out cold like that or what?"

Rogue makes a face. "Would ya hurry up and take the pics already? His hand is Niagara Falls here!"

"Okay, okay." There is a sound of a camera snapping once as Rogue tries to find the right angle. "Shoot, the camera needs a fresh roll of film."

"Ugh!" Rogue grabs a pillow and chucks it at Blindspot. The video recorder gets knocked down, and it records the floor. "Just use the digital camera!"

The video cuts out. Then it restarts.

It's of Rogue on the bed again, just blankly staring down at her lap, wearing a big, plush hotel robe, looking small and lost in thought.

"Carrot cake," she says suddenly.

"Really?"

"Yeah, like apparently this hotel has crazy good carrot cake."

"Okay, so lobster, the New York steak, and carrot cake?"

"And a hot fudge sundae… with extra cherries. Just in case the carrot cake tastes like all other carrot cakes…" She makes a frowning face. "Like disappointment."

"Anything else?"

"Yeah…" she lifts the room service menu that had been on her lap the whole time. "What's 'foy grass'?"

"I don't know. It says it's like duck liver…?"

"Gross!" she scrunches up her nose then suddenly deadpans. "Let's order it."

"Why?"

"Because it's like $300 and Senator Rapist is payin'. Duh."

"Thank you, Senator Rapist."

"Yes, thank you, Senator Rapist."

She grabs his hand again and molds his fingers so he's giving the camera a thumbs-up.

"My pleasure ladies," she says, mimicking a man's voice. "Now Blindspot, be a dear and get me my Gas-X."

Blindspot and Rogue fall into stitches.

"'Cause he farted!"

The video ends abruptly.

I look blankly at the last frame, wondering what the hell I just watched.

I press play again. And this time, I can barely contain my laughter. I watch it two more times, looking at the goofy expressions on her face, the flippant teenage remarks, all the gloriously dark humor.

Mystique had been right on one thing.

This was the actual Rogue. It was Anna – uncomplicated by her obligations to the X-men, to a mutant-fearing world, to me.

But the great thing about it is I know this girl so well. I drink beer with her on our balcony at night, and she talks about how stupid some superhero names sound. She was the girl who joked about the lack of lumbar support when we clung together on a dirty cave floor after our first time having sex. The same girl who stupidly grinned down at me when I got the crazy idea of dropping down to one knee at someone else's wedding.

And she said yes.

In the end, the reason that I'll be driven to her over and over again isn't because of that sexy stare or a challenge accepted or whatever else people are saying. It's for her resilience, for her wicked sense of humor. Because she somehow finds something to laugh about and to love and fight for even in the darkest of times and places. And I find it's contagious.

I stop the video at a frame where she's laughing and stroke my thumb across her face. My lips unconsciously tug into a smile.

I think about what I should do. I can't really say that this video would be that damning to Rogue's reputation. It may actually make her more popular. But I could also see this getting controversial if given to the press - two underage mutant girls framing a politician for a rape that he did not commit at the time but ultimately led to his terrible demise.

But one thing was certain.

Rogue didn't need to be protected anymore. And definitely not from her own self.

I look at the time and I don't have enough to get into it with her if I need to explain what I did the whole day. I also need to get 10 million in cash somehow and try to scope out the area before.

I decide to send her a quick text with just enough information to catch her up to speed and won't cause too much shock.

South Beach Boardwalk. Staten Island, New York.

I hear the sound of the ocean gently ebb and flow in front of me. I'm sitting by myself on a bench along the Boardwalk. The steely grey color of the water and the twinkling lights of the Verrazano-Narrows Bridge keep the darkness of the night from falling around me as I wait for Rogue.

She asked me to leave before she went to finally confront Blindspot. I have a feeling that Rogue isn't going to just ask the girl for her memories back.

But I trust Rogue.

She always manages to dig up something deep inside her to do the right thing. I just hope it's not too self-sacrificing.

"Hey stranger."

She hovers down into the empty seat next to me.

"Hey y'self."

She smiles and says nothing for a while, looking at the bridge. "It's real pretty here."

I nod, just watching her. She crosses one leg over the other, absentmindedly brushing the hem of her sleeveless pink dress.

"So, you gon' tell me how dis story ends?" I ask, shrugging off my trench coat. I put it over shoulders.

She smiles, slides herself closer to my side and lifts one side of the coat so it's draped over both of us. "Ah may have done somethin' slightly unethical," she says, leaning her head on my shoulder.

I pull my arm around her and smirk. "Dieu, I love it when y'say stuff like dat."

She sighs. "Ah absorbed her."

I pause and turn to look down at her. She seems calm about it.

"And then," she continues. "Ah took her powers to edit a few things from her memories."

My eyes widen. "Okay." I wonder if that little part that was returned to her was the sociopathic part. "Should I be worried?"

"Ah didn't want her to just return the portion of my memories that she said she took. Ah mean, Ah can't really trust her now, given that all my recent memories of her have all turned out to be her lyin' to me. Plus, Ah just didn't like how Mystique was a part of everythin' and Ah just needed a fuller picture of what was goin' on and what they were all keepin' from me."

"Dat's smart, chere."

"And Ah can't believe she tried to kill you!" she looks at me, frowning.

"So you avenged me by lobotomizin' her," I smirk conclusively. "Bad ass, chere."

"Not lobotomizin'. More like… deletin' things that don't belong."

"How's dat different?"

"Well, it turns out that her powers work a little different than mine. Ah experience memories from the first person, like Ah become the person Ah absorb. Ah can't relive someone's memories in a detached manner. Ah mean sometimes Ah can if Ah really try. But unless Ah make that conscious effort not to, Ah generally just experience everythin' firsthand.

"But Blindspot, her powers are very detached. She sees other people's memories like film clips, and she fills in a lot of the details with her own imagination. And sometimes she gets attached to certain memories and the people in them like favorite characters in a movie."

"Lemme guess, you're her favorite character?"

She nods. "Ever since Mystique made her take my memories from me, she has just been livin' her whole life constantly captivated with mine, but not even my real life, just bits of our past and the few clips she stole from me. And she like built all these extra details and imagined all this other stuff about me that weren't true… like she's married me off to a lot of different people. And anyway, long story short, she was not a fan of us gettin' together."

"Yeah, I gathered dat."

"So, Ah just kind of went in, took back the memories she took from me and deleted them from hers," she sighs, shaking her head. "Ah'm hopin' that this gives her a chance to live her own life and find her own happiness."

I nod, rubbing my hand on her shoulder consolingly. We stare at the ocean for a while in silence.

"And you?" I ask. "How are you?"

She smiles modestly, her lashes grazing her cheeks. "Fine."

"No 'Girls Gone Wild' videos comin' my way?" I ask her.

She makes a face and lightly raps me on the side. She sighs, looking down at her hands. "Ah think Ah was just angry and spiteful and ya know bein' the teenager from hell, and it didn't help that Ah kept encountering men who were all so interested in how my breasts were developin'. It was all too easy to just lure them in, and make them think twice about lookin' at me that way."

I kinda feel bad for being a man. I pull her head closer and kiss her on the top of her hair. "If we ever decide t'have kids, an' we get a daughter. I hope she's just like you."

"What if she gets my powers?"

"Dat's what m'saying. I hope she gets your powers. No control either. Jus' knock a man dead as soon as he tries anythin' funny."

"Speakin' like a protective daddy? This is rich comin' from you."

"Non, de more I think 'bout it, it's de best powers any father could wish for their daughter."

She chuckles. "Until she meets her Gambit."

I groan loudly.

She smiles wickedly at me, speaking in a sultry whisper, "And he makes her do so many filthy, naughty things."

I give her a sidelong glare.

She runs the tip of her nose along the side of my neck, and burns a feline gaze at me loaded with innuendoes. And I'm back to being an unapologetic man.

I slant my mouth over hers, pulling her tightly to me as I drink her in. Her arms surround my neck and I can feel her lips smiling in victory and snickering before she tilts her head and kisses me back fully. But this is one battle I will gladly concede.

I pull her body sideways onto my lap and lean down onto her so she's almost lying down.

"You ever do it on a park bench before, chere?"

She laughs. "You tell me, sugah. If Ah haven't done it with you, Ah haven't done it."

I smile at her, stroking her temple with my thumb, and I kiss her again.

My hand slides down her body and finds her leg, and climbs back up her thigh, pushing up beneath the skirt of her dress.

Suddenly, Rogue gasps. "Oh, shit." She pushes me back, my body slamming against the park bench.

"What?" I'm suddenly getting flashbacks to having to deal with that fail-safe mechanism again.

"Aisha!" She scrambles up. "Ah completely forgot!"

"What's wrong? I thought y'found her a babysitter."

"No, no, no…. Ah mean, Ah did… but," she licks her lips nervously. "We need to get her now."

"Okay…"

I barely get my coat on when she whisks me into her arms and we're hurtling through the air with alarming speed.

I wonder who exactly she left the baby with to get her this concerned.

Somewhere in New York

"Deadpool, chere?!"

"He was the only one who actually picked up the phone and had no plans for the night!"

We arrive at Wade's place, which isn't unexpectedly charming or clean. It smells like death, and there are more weapons lying around than one can shake a stick at. I'm pretty sure Aisha didn't get all the shots necessary to fend off the diseases that fester here.

Wade is sitting in front of the T.V. with Aisha on his knee when we enter his place, eating Lucky Charms out of the box.

"You know, Rogue, when you said 'I need a babysitter' I secretly hoped it was a euphemism for something that Gambit wouldn't approve of," he looks past Rogue at me and waves his fingers delicately. "Oh, hi, Gambit."

"Wade." I try not to step on anything that I might have to scrape off my boot later.

"Thanks for watchin' her. We'll take it from here," Rogue starts amicably, smiling nervously, her arms reaching for Aisha.

He stands up abruptly, swings Aisha over to the other side, out of her reach. "You know, now that we're all here. I think we need to discuss an important family matter. Namely, and I don't know if you noticed this Gambit, but your baby is black. So Rogue," he turns to Rogue. "Who is the father of this child, really? It's okay to be honest. Gambit and I – we can take it."

"You shut yo' mouth in front of her," Rogue hisses. And finally yanks Aisha out of Deadpool's hands.

"It's Bishop, isn't it?"

"C'mon, baby, let's get ya outta here. Auntie Rogue is so sorry. Please don't tell your Momma 'bout this," she desperately begs in hushed tones to Aisha in as she floats, not walks, out of the room, which I realize is very smart.

"Gambit, I know you may have a lot on your mind, but I'd like to mention that I charge by the hour, and it's standard mercenary costs."

I smirk at him. I pull the duffel bag off my back and set it down over the heap of guns and garbage piled onto what may have been a coffee table. I pull open the zipper and show him the 10 million.

"Whaaaaat?" Deadpool's eyes grow bright and wide, his hands slapping his cheeks as he beholds the cash in front of him.

He looks a little stuck that way.

"Y' babysitting fees, Wade," I tell him. "You never got dis from me. An' I recommend y' spend it quickly."

He's speechless.

"So it jus' takes money t'make you shut up."

He somehow looks like his eyes are brimming up with tears behind the mask. "Rogue never meant anything to me," he whispers. "It was a mistake and from now on, I only have eyes for you."

"Why you always gotta make things weird?"

"You wanna hug it out? I think we should hug it out."

"Non… okay, s'happening…" I groan as his arms surround my ribs.

He tenderly places his head against my shoulder.

"You are such a sexy beast, Gambit. I hope Rogue knows how lucky she is."

Tribeca Apartment. Manhattan, New York

Other than the possibility that we may have to foot Aisha's therapy bills for the rest of our lives, Rogue has successfully commandeered her first pre-school event. Rogue also gives Aisha a bath. I'm pretty sure it's inappropriate to give your neighbor's kid a bath without permission, but she claims that the permeating scent of Deadpool on a four-year-old is too disturbing to ignore. Monique, exhausted from two back-to-back shifts in the E.R., finds her daughter washed and ready for bed, yanks Rogue into a crushing embrace and cries, "God bless you!"

After they leave, Rogue collapses on the bed face down.

I feel just as exhausted and fall onto the bed next to her.

We stay there like that long enough for me to start feeling drowsy when Rogue suddenly rolls over and presses into my side.

"Ah just thought of somethin'," she mumbles.

"Hm."

"How'd you run into Mystique?"

I briefly think of different ways I could spin the truth so that it doesn't look like I was investigating her past behind her back, but finally, I decide that I'm just too tired. "I asked her to meet me."

I hear the ruffling of her shirt against the sheets as she turns to face me. I keep my eyes closed.

"Why?"

"I wanted t'know if de photos were real."

She is quiet.

I finally open my eyes to look at her. She is staring up at the ceiling, her brows pinched and I can tell she's trying to see if she should be angry about this.

"Ah told ya it was fake, but ya just knew not to believe me?" she finally asks.

I sigh. "I wanted t'believe you."

"But?"

"But…" I stare at her. "You have dis way of looking at me sometimes… y'know when you're kind of really turned on? And I recognized it in de photo, an' I had dis hunch dere's nobody in dis world dat knows dat face well enough to photoshop it."

She processes what I say quietly. Finally, she just chuckles, shaking her head.

"Unbelievable," she says. "You really think you got me figured out, huh?"

"You were an unhealthy obsession for a large part of my life, chere."

"Unhealthy?" she asks sadly.

"Oui," I stare at her. "Like a fat boy loves cake."

"Ya know, Remy, we could have probably worked this out together. Maybe not today, but like tomorrow, and then ya wouldn't have had to deal with Blindspot on your own like that."

"Yeah, I realized dat, but only after I kind' dropped my foot in it."

"What did Mystique say about the photos?"

"She looked at 'em like y'were Mommy's Little Sociopath."

She sighs. "Yeah, we actually got along the best then. Maybe Ah was kinda seekin' out her approval," she grudgingly admits. "Anythin' else? Nothin' disturbing?"

"You mean other dan de whole conversation from start t'finish?"

"Like she didn't try to seduce you in the likeness of me?"

I give her a look.

"What? She did?!"

"Worse," I tell her. "She tried to seduce me wit' de child image of you in de photo."

"Ugh," she cringes.

"Yeah, y'mom, chere," I shake my head, not finishing.

"So, the photos, the video, disguised Mystique." She hesitates a bit and she asks, "None of it turned ya on?"

"What?" I ask her a little offended.

"Not even a little?" she gets up to her side looking at me with an innocent smile.

"Dat's messed up, chere."

"Is it?"

"Isn't it?"

"It's still me." She shrugs. "Everyone's a little perverted, Remy. Just like everyone's a little sociopathic… and racist… and sexist… and ageist…. You absorb enough people, and you realize we are all just on a sliding scale of 1 to 10. But nobody is 0."

This conversation is getting weird.

But I roll with it.

"If dis is y'way of trying t'lull me into a false sense of security an' admittin' t' a Lolita fetish, den I hate t'disappoint you, but I clearly have a fetish for de femmes who look like dey can probably kick my ass."

She smirks. "Yeah, ya do have that," she agrees. "But ya know, Ah think you're the one an' only person Ah probably wouldn't have minded if ya admitted it."

"Still not admittin' it, chere."

"Okay," she says and suddenly straddles me. "So ya wouldn't get turned on if Ah wore a schoolgirl outfit?"

"It's different, an' y'know it. But after everythin' dat happened today, I actually think it might be more disturbing dan hot."

She looks down at me thoughtfully, and the way her long hair is tumbling down over her shoulders reminds me of the video I saw of her.

"De fact is," I sigh. "I was too scared 'bout what dose photos might mean, for me to even look at dem sexually. Because it was you. An' I can't protect you from something if de shit's already happened."

She tilts her head and goes quiet. She smiles at me wistfully. "Ah know the feelin', Remy," she says softly.

She crosses her arms in front of her and pulls off her shirt over her head.

"Not dat m' complainin' but dis timing kind' sucks, chere."

"Ah don't know, Ah feel like all we've been doin' is alludin' to sex," she murmurs. She presses the length of her body down against me. "Besides, Ah think ya deserve a reward for bein' so sweet to me all day."

"Oui?" I wince in pleasure as she rolls her hips against mine.

She sighs. "Yeah, for a guy who says he likes the kinda woman who can probably kick his ass, ya sure enjoy tryin' to protect 'em."

I smile up at her as she slowly rocks against me, riding me in a languorous pace. And if that look seconds before the fail-safe mechanism was hot, then the look she gives me now is nuclear.

FIN

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