Chapter 3

Injury

Gambit had learned long ago that St. John Allerdyce, known to the general public as Pyro was a couple of cards short of a deck. And, as such, he got his kicks from some of the oddest things.

Therefore, he was unsurprised on entering the Acolyte base after enjoying a few drinks in a seedy bar to hear the maniacal laugh of the fire-loving Aussie.

In an indulgent mood thanks to the alcohol coursing through his system, he went to see what had the firebug so amused. He found his "teammate" in the control room, rewinding and watching a segment from the evening news.

Gambit was by no means drunk. It would take a lot more alcohol than he had imbibed in to achieve that, but the sight before him sobered him up immediately.

There had been an industrial accident at a power plant, and true to form, the X-Men had gone to help. His eyes zeroed in on the auburn- and white-haired mutant in the corner of the screen. He felt his heart drop to his stomach, heavy as lead, when an explosion from behind knocked her off her feet, sending her spiraling into the air and landing a good ten feet away in a crumpled heap on the unforgiving pavement.

He was frozen, standing as still as a statue, horror filling his very soul when she didn't get up. Then, the camera shifted to show Nightcrawler porting the plant's employees out of harm's way, leaving Gambit in the dark as to Rogue's fate.

He snatched the remote from Pyro, ignoring the man's indignant, "Hey!" to rewind and fast forward through all the recorded footage and growled in frustration when Rogue didn't appear again.

"Did all the X-Men get out?" he asked John.

"Who cares? I'm just here for the fire," the pyromaniac declared carelessly.

Gambit considered slugging John, but he knew it wouldn't do any good and it would overplay his hand. No one needed to know where his affections lay.

Leaving Pyro to his own insanity, he gathered his supplies from his room and headed back out into the night.

As much as he needed to focus on the task at hand, he couldn't get the image of Rogue's body hitting the concrete out of his mind. She was alright, wasn't she? She had gotten up the moment the camera had swiveled around. Hadn't she?

She'd be there with a smart remark and snapping eyes when he broke into her room again. The X-Men wouldn't have left her there. Would they?

It wasn't until he was actually on the Mansion grounds that he was able to force his mind to shut down all hints of emotion so that he could focus. When a person was emotional, they got sloppy, made mistakes. And, he couldn't afford to make any mistakes right now.

He calmed his breathing and slowed his heartbeat. It was a break-in like any other. Consider the facts, the weaknesses, the holes in the security system. He had done it twice before, so there was no reason to panic.

It was Thursday. The Wolverine was on patrol on Thursdays, making his task that much more difficult. Gambit didn't balk at the added challenge, though. So, a bloodthirsty mutant with razor sharp adamantium claws who definitely didn't like him was going to walk by his hiding place in a few short minutes. So, what?

For Rogue, he'd risk much more.

Gambit wasted no time. He was pulling himself onto her balcony in less than seven minutes. He was eager, not stupid. He wasn't going to get caught because he couldn't wait the allotted time to pass each security feature.

She'd be there. She'd be there. She'd be there.

She wasn't.

Gambit felt a cold terror wash over him as he looked at her empty bed. Panic, frigid and determined, snaked its way through his bloodstream, leaving him numb.

He barely had enough time to gather his wits and hide amongst the shadows as he heard the doorknob jiggle.

He watched surreptitiously from his place under Rogue's bed as Kitty walked in, followed by Jean.

"It'll be weird having the room to myself tonight," Kitty said.

Gambit had to calm the anger that suddenly flushed through his system. Why did she have the room to herself? It wasn't fair.

"Are you sure you don't want me to stay?" the older girl was saying.

"No, that's okay, but thanks. Now that we know Rogue is going to be okay, I don't mind being alone," Kitty responded.

Years of thief training was the only thing that kept him from shouting with joy. As it was, a silent sigh of relief escaped his tense body. She was going to be okay.

"She really scared me for a moment, there," Kitty's voice continued.

Me too, Gambit thought.

"Hank says she'll probably be out of the Med Bay in a couple of days. She's gonna throw a fuss about being in there at all. You know how she is," Jean said.

Kitty giggled. "I do. An even crabbier Rogue is not something I'm looking forward to. Well, I'm beat. I'm gonna go to bed."

"Alright, good night, Kitty," Jean said as she left and closed the door.

"Good night," Kitty called back and began to unzip her uniform to get ready for bed.

Gambit averted his eyes. If a woman wanted to let him watch her get undressed, he was a willing and captive audience, but he was no Peeping Tom. Kitty didn't know he was there, and it wasn't fair to invade her privacy in such a way.

Besides, the only woman he would have wanted to see without clothes on, with her permission, of course, was currently down in the Med Bay.

He listened to the small rustle of clothing as Kitty exchanged her uniform for her pajamas. He heard the covers of the bed opposite the one he was hiding under being pulled back and the slight creak the mattress gave as it supported her small frame.

It wasn't long before Kitty's breaths evened out, and he knew she was asleep. He waited another few minutes just to be sure, and then deftly emerged from his hiding place without making a sound.

The window from which he had come beckoned to him, promising safety and escape. He should go. After all, he had only come to make sure that Rogue was alright, and he had learned that through his eavesdropping. Every thieving instinct in his body told him to leave while he still had the chance, before he was discovered. He had gotten what he came for, so it was time to go.

He knew where the Med Bay was. He knew where every room in the mansion was. But despite his teasing and suggestions to Rogue, he had never ventured into any of them. If he left the sanctuary of Rogue's bedroom, there was a greater chance of one of the residents finding him. And, while Remy loved a challenge, rational thought told him it was dangerous to be creeping along the halls of the Xavier mansion just to prove that he could. He should go.

Then, there was the issue of the Med Bay itself. Remy hated hospitals, and everything even remotely resembling one. His traumatic experience as one of Mr. Sinister personal lab rats when his powers had first emerged had given him a fear of needles and sterile sheets and endlessly beeping machines that he had never gotten over.

Still, there was something that drove him to slip into the unoccupied hallway. He didn't know what it was exactly, but it was something stronger than instinct, something more persistent than rational thought, and something more powerful than fear.

All he knew was that he wanted, needed to see Rogue.

Still, his eyes and ears were both alert as he made his way down the stairs on silent feet. His caution proved prudent. Twice he had to duck into the shadows to avoid one of Rogue's housemates. The delay, however inevitable, was agonizing all the same.

By the time he had taken the elevator to the lower level where the Med Bay was housed, Gambit was cursing how long it had taken him. He spared half a glance at the sleeping Hank McCoy sprawled out on a chair as he walked by the office/ lab area connected to the Med Bay. The blue fur on the resident doctor's chest moved up and down with his steady breaths, enough to assure Remy that he wouldn't be waking any time soon.

The moment he entered the sanitary white room with too bright of fluorescent lighting, every warning instinct in his body started to sound alarms. His heartbeat thrummed in his ears, deafening in its intensity and frequency. Adrenaline coursed through his veins, and his fingers burned with the desire to release his powers and blow the place to kingdom come, to run, to defend himself. The stench of chemicals and bleach assaulted his nostrils, causing him to gag.

And, then, he caught sight of Rogue.

Everything in him shuddered to a stop. She looked so small and frail in the hospital bed. There was a bandage wrapped along her hairline. There was also a horribly mottled dark violet bruise the size of a peach marring the unnaturally pale skin of her arm. He couldn't stop staring at it. It shouldn't be there. She shouldn't have gotten hurt. Why didn't the X-Men protect her?

It was strange. He had always thought in the back of his mind that Rogue was invulnerable, that she could never be hurt, never be touched. To be reminded of her very real mortality, of how fragile her life was, broke something inside him.

He took an angry step forward, and stopped himself. He had to count to ten four times before he could calm himself enough to think rationally. He gritted his teeth to calm his breathing. And, he had to clench his hands into fists to stop himself from ripping the IV out from her arm. He had to remind himself that she was safe here, that the machines were helping and not hurting her.

Still, it shouldn't have happened. And, she shouldn't be alone.

He approached the unconscious figure cautiously, as if somehow afraid he would disturb her drug-induced sleep.

Slowly, ever so slowly, he slipped onto the narrow mattress beside her, careful not to jostle her or disrupt the wires and tubes attached to her. His arm wrapped gently around her waist, the pressure so light, she wouldn't have noticed even if she had been awake.

He was surprised his breath was so unsteady. He closed his eyes as he inhaled her scent, the sweet aroma of her shampoo and the steady and constant rhythm of her heartbeat were the only things that could calm him. Without even thinking about it, he brushed a kiss against her hair.

"You be one crazy femme, ya know dat?" he whispered. "Scared this ol' Cajun, chéré."

The admission slipped more easily from his lips than he expected. Perhaps, it was the fact that he was 95% sure she couldn't hear him, but maybe he would have admitted it either way. Somehow, without his notice or his permission, the sassy Southern girl had come to mean more to him than he realized.

"Listen, chéré, I know ya got 'dis whole hero t'ing going on wid' de X-Men, but until you are invulnerable or got Monsieur Claws healing power, don' be rushin' into explosions, s'il voys plaît. Actually, non, scratch 'dat. Even if ya get dose powers, don' go into explosions. I don' like ya gettin' hurt, ya hear me?" he said seriously.

She didn't respond, and he didn't expect her to. He just pressed another gentle kiss to her hair and considered how lucky he was she was still in his life.

Gambit awoke to a gentle hand shaking his shoulder. He blinked awake, not realizing he had drifted off. Still, he was a light sleeper, and it took a lot to be able to sneak up on him. He examined the cool, kind blue eyes set against the elegant mocha face staring placidly at him, and he decided that in another life, Ororo Munroe could have easily been a thief.

"It's time for you to be going, Gambit. The rest of the mansion will be up soon," Storm's gentle voice commanded him.

To her credit, she didn't ask why he was there or how he got in, and her face was devoid of judgement or surprise. Of course, since he had no idea how long she had been there, she could've rearranged her features into the carefully blank mask she was wearing.

Remy glanced back to the girl in his arms. Her breathing was easier than the night before, but he still hesitated to leave her.

Seeming to know his thoughts, Storm looked at him with gentle understanding shining in her eyes. "She'll be alright, Gambit," the weather witch reassured.

Her lips twitched in amusement before settling back into a neutral expression before she said more firmly, "But, you will not be if you're caught down here by Logan, who will be down very soon."

Gambit smiled, the temptation to stay by Rogue's side worth the danger of being caught by Logan, but obediently climbed off the bed. There was no doubt the Wolverine would catch his scent as soon he came down, but he appreciated the head start being offered to him. With Storm looking on, he didn't dare bestow another kiss on Rogue's sleeping figure, but he did slip a playing card from its place on his belt and carefully pressed it into Rogue's limp hand. Hopefully, the Queen of Diamonds would convey how much she was worth to him.

"Au revoir, chéré," he said gently to Rogue and began to back away.

Storm watched him carefully as he made his way out. At the door, he turned around and called out to her, "Hey, Storm?"

She raised an eyebrow at him.

"T'anks. You're alright," he said with a crooked smile and a wink before disappearing.

Storm chuckled to herself, and then glanced toward Rogue.

"Oh, child," she said with an indulgent smile, "You certainly know how to pick them."