My mother's great line was: Grasp the nettle with two hands, girl, because if you don't somebody else will.
— Dr. Fiona Wood

Rogue had positioned a chair beside the healing pod, though there was nothing to do but wait. Nothing to see but her own distorted reflection on the curved semi-opaque glass covering the sarcophagus. Within the pod, Remy was nothing but a blurry obscured figure, unmoving and held in oblivious stasis until his body healed.

"Why are you torturing yourself, Rogue?" Raven asked. She stood at the foot of the pod, looking at Rogue with an indiscernible expression on her face.

"I still care about him, Raven," Rogue said softly "And he'd have done the same for me." He had done the same, on several occasions. Waited for her to wake, waited for her return.

Raven gestured to the silent figure. "This man? Maybe before. But this is the man who walked out on you with hardly a word. The man who hasn't spoken to you since he left. Save through his lawyer, who he is definitely sleeping with, by the way."

Rogue shook her head slightly, impatient. "How can you know that? Is it because she's beautiful, you just assume?"

"Beautiful, yes. And intelligent. Loud and outspoken and way out of his league. They travel in the same circles. She's a criminal, from a criminal family, involved with other criminals. Sound familiar? Remy does seem to have a type," Mystique said.

"Female is his type," Rogue said dryly.

"Are you even sure about that?" Raven quipped and folded her arms.

Rogue let out an exasperated breath through her teeth, choosing to remain focused on the pod rather than look at her mother. "It doesn't matter who he's been with. We're not married anymore. He can sleep with whoever he wants."

"It used to matter to you," Raven observed, plucking a stray vine that had grown over the glass. "You could try again, Rogue. If you wanted to. This is your opportunity."

Rogue looked over her shoulder at her mother, a question furrowing her brow.

Cecelia reentered the atrium then, interrupting their conversation. She was carrying a saline drip to replenish the IV in Remy's pod. Rogue thought Cece was being something of a mother hen, a little too doting on this patient. Rogue was half-tempted to ask if the doctor had any other patients to attend to. Raven's eyebrows rose and a smug expression appeared on her face, as if to say: I told you so.

"It's pretty late," Cecelia told Rogue as she keyed in the sequence to open the healing pod. "And I won't be able to bring Remy out from stasis until we've flushed the toxins from his system."

Rogue took that as an invitation to leave. She chose to ignore it. As the glass lid slid aside, she could see Remy's face, his shoulders and chest. He was pale, with a dark shadow under his one visible eye. Likewise, the eyelid was dark, as Remy's black eyes were evident even when his lids were closed. Rogue wondered about the beard, the length of his hair. He was always very deliberate when it came to his appearance. Scruffy chin to hide a boyish face. Long hair hanging forward like a mask to disguise his eyes. He now seemed unkempt from a lack of effort, or caring. Oliver was curled up against Remy's neck. With the pod opened, the cat gave a huge yawn and stretched. He regarded the visitors warily.

"No brain activity, then, when he's sealed away," Raven said. "I would have thought Xavier would want to bring him back online sooner rather than later."

"We're concerned that the neurotoxicity of the poison would inflict irreversible brain damage," Cecelia said and changed the empty saline bag for the new one. "We can't administer anesthesia to operate on his injuries either. It might result in severe memory loss. Dementia."

"Seems he's damned if you do, damned if you don't," Raven said, nodded her chin to the unconscious form. "And should he survive this. What then? Likely, he'll face some repercussions for his recent behavior. I doubt Krakoan expatriates assuming leadership of global crime organizations reflect favorably on our society."

Cecelia paused to consider Mystique's words. "He's always been a thief. And there's never been-okay-yes, there have been problems with that. But, he's at least been accepted as such."

"He interfered with Kate's mission. He cost Hank McCoy his life, endangered Domino by stealing from Stark. And one of his cohorts nearly killed Iron Man. A human," Raven continued. "Infiltrating maximum security prisons. Allying with terrorists and pirates. Extortion and blackmailing New York officials. Not to mention, he's in bed with the Syndicate." Here she paused and gave a wry smile. "In the literal and figurative sense."

"You seem to know an awful lot about it," Rogue said sullenly. "There a reason why you didn't care to share with me?"

"Why trouble yourself?" Raven said. "Like you said, it no longer mattered to you."

"That's not-," Rogue began hotly.

"It has been discussed at Council," Raven continued. "At length. How do you solve a problem like Remy LeBeau? This could be the best possible circumstance for him to return. Delivered to us, rather than us having to hunt him down. Perhaps he'll be offered a second chance? Or whatever number of chances he's on."

"Yes, they've certainly been generous when it comes to you, Mystique," Cecelia stated. She examined the dressings on Remy's wounds. "I wonder why some are afforded so many chances at redemption, but not others…. I need more bandages. Don't touch anything."

With that, Cecelia stomped off.

Raven turned her gaze back to Rogue. "Well, it appears there beats a tender heart under that caustic armor after all. At least for your former husband."

"Do you mind," Rogue said, her tone not inferring a suggestion, "leaving us be for a moment?"

"This is your moment, Rogue," Mystique said quietly. "He may die yet. Past sins forgotten, at least of this last year. When he wakes in the Hatchery, you'd have him back as you want him. It will be as if it never happened. Him leaving, the divorce."

Rogue sucked in a breath, cast an incredulous look at her mother. "You can't possibly suggest I…?"

"Would you like me to do it?" Raven offered. "It is not as if he'd truly be killed."

Rogue swept a forearm arm over her watering eyes. "Get outta here!" she shouted. "Get away from him!"

Raven took a step back, glanced to where Cecelia had departed for the supply room. "You always choose to make things so difficult." Raven then turned and departed.

For a moment, Rogue put her face in her hands, trying to regain composure. She swallowed multiple times, choking down the sobs that wanted to emerge from her throat. She took one last shaky breath. Placed her hand tentatively on Remy's shoulder. Thinking of the last time she could recall touching him.

She'd come later than she thought, but not so late that Remy would be in bed already. Rogue smiled, thinking maybe her husband had plans in mind for the evening that involved being in bed a good long time. She found him in their bedroom, in bed on his side and facing away. She touched her hand to his shoulder. Remy was well and truly asleep, not waiting up for her. Rogue slipped out of her clothing, pulled herself into bed, sliding beneath the sheets. Wrapping herself around his body, spooning his back, she ran her hand over his bare chest and down his stomach. Remy stirred; he was in for a happy awakening. Remy...Rogue whispered against his neck. He exhaled a sigh and she could smell the sweet hint of bourbon on his breath. So, maybe he'd treated himself to a nightcap. Rogue let her fingers slip under the waistband of his shorts. His hand suddenly gripped hers. Quit. Don't, he said, his voice, while thick with sleep and drink, was hard. He told her: Don't be thinkin' you can touch me whenever you feel like.

"Remy…"

She wasn't sure he would hear her or remember her words, and after that exchange with Mystique, Rogue prayed he was truly oblivious. "Remy. I wish you'd said something. Anything. Before you-before just leaving like you did. We could've talked it through. Why didn't you stay and fight for me? For us?"

Rogue began crying in earnest then and turned away from the sight of him. "Why'd you go away? Why'd you distance yourself from me? I felt-," she whispered. "I felt like I could never give you what you wanted. Not everything. At every turn, I just... I got so tired of bein' a disappointment. Always wanting more of me, more than I can give."

Through her tear-blurred vision, Rogue could see movement. The cat was pawing at something on Remy's face. Rogue moved to shoo Oliver aside, prevent the cat from accidentally scratching his pet parent. A tendril of plant life had stolen over Remy's face as he slept. Rogue plucked it away. As she stood over him, she saw other shoots had sprung up through the machinery, tangling in the mechanics. Remy's breathing was labored.

"Cecelia?" Rogue called and she plucked more of the stems and fronds away.

For a moment, she stood back and watched. The plant was growing aggressively. Oliver leapt from the pod in a panic to dash under the conference table. Rogue watched helplessly as the plant choked the life-sustaining equipment, crawled over Remy's inert form. She might have hesitated just a moment longer than she should have. "Help!" Rogue finally cried. "Help! Please!"

Cecelia was banging on the door to the supply closet. Rogue turned to see her use her shield to crash through it. Rapidly growing vines and branches had blocked her egress. "Rogue?" she called. "What-!"

Rogue lunged forward to pull a vine from around Remy's throat. There were other shoots worming their way around his body, flowing into his nose and mouth. She heard him choke and she wordlessly cried out in panic. Suddenly, there was a vibration in the air, an ear-popping pressure. She recognized the power signature and turned, expecting to see Magneto. Polaris stood there in his stead, her hand raised. The vines retracted under her command. Which was impossible, unless the plants were somehow metallic.

Remy shuddered, his hands came up to grasp at the remaining vines. Some primitive call to self-preservation had revived him. His hands began to glow, first pink, then white. Polaris rushed forward, gazing down at Remy through her yellow lenses. She suddenly swept her hand over the healing pod. The glass seal abruptly slid shut.

"Lorna-!" Rogue began.

From within the healing pod came a bright glow. They were all forced to turn away from the piercing light. From behind her eyelids, Rogue could see the glow start to fade but not entirely disperse. She blinked her dazzled eyes. Cecelia was flanking one side of the sarcophagus, Polaris the other. The green-haired woman cast about, her arms raised over her head, fingers curling. Vines, branches, fronds, and leaves tore themselves from the walls and shredded themselves into unrecoverable bits. There came a scream from somewhere and nowhere that echoed throughout the atrium.

Polaris panted and slowly lowered her arms. "Another one of those-techno-organic clones." She shook her head as if freeing herself from a trance. "He's—the clone… is dead now." Lorna turned back to Cece and Rogue. "Are you alright?"

Cece nodded. "The clone? He was able to control the plants?"

"These were not entirely organic," Polaris stooped and picked up a bit of twitching green plantlife. She stared at it for a moment, blinked. She then turned back to the healing pod. Cece made to reopen it.

"Don't," Polaris said and held out a hand. "Don't. He's too dangerous."

"I thought you said the clone was dead," Rogue said.

"The attacker yes, but Remy is very much alive. And unable to control his powers," Polaris said.

"How can you tell?" Cece asked, looking down at the opaque glass. The pod was too hot to touch, unless you happened to have a built in forcefield resistant to kinetic forces.

"He shouldn't have been able to charge and deteriorate the living organic tissue," Polaris answered. She glanced over her shoulder, searching for something.

Polaris then crouched, held out an open hand. Slowly, the black cat crept from his hiding space. He tentatively sniffed Lorna's fingers. "It's a good thing the cat got out." A tiny spark of static and the cat dashed back under the table, watching her with wary eyes.

Next time: you can find me in the club, bottle full of bub.