The lovely cover was compiled by the amazing CodeAliasWave from the pieces created for Rogue/Gambit Week 2021 by the equally amazing angel-gidget, go-haywire and DayenuRose. You can find out more about Rogue/Gambit Week on Tumblr.
Chapter 1 - A Test of Faith
In the privacy of her room, Rogue curled up in the chair beside the window and rested a book on her lap. Though, since she kept the lights out, it wasn't like she could read it. The book was more of a prop to justify her staying in on a Friday evening. She hoped if anyone came back early or was passing by to pick up a forgotten item, they would think she'd also gone out. Practically everyone else had left hours ago. But, with the X-Men you could never be certain when they decided they had a proprietary right to dictate how you spent every minute of your time.
From her vantage point at the window, she'd watched as first Jean and Scott, then Betsy and Warren headed out on dates. Both ladies were dressed to the nines for a night out on the town. Jean and Scott were going out for dinner and a show while Betsy and Warren were planning on hitting high end clubs and dancing the night away. She refused to admit that she wanted the same. What good would it do to wish for things she could never have?
With the setting of the sun, Logan left on his own. His motorcycle roared into the otherwise silent night, leaving no question that he had gone. He'd come back before dawn after a night spent drinking and brawling. Meanwhile, Jubilee had convinced Hank and Bobby to catch a movie with her. Earlier in the evening, the Professor and Storm had left for a business dinner and weren't expected back until late. While Bishop hadn't gone far, he was content to spend the evening stalking the grounds alone on his patrol. Which left only one person she hadn't seen leaving the premise. And, speak of the devil...
"Chère, I know you're in there." Gambit knocked on her door.
Rogue froze. How did he always know? Picking up her gloves, she stared at the loathsome objects with a tangible hatred. She didn't want to wear them. She didn't want to be covered from head to toe. She wanted to be able to wear slinky, sexy dresses like Betsy without fearing that every movement might send someone into a coma. Was it wrong to wish for something as normal as a date night of dinner and dancing with the man who'd claimed her heart? A night out without the myriad of precautions required to keep herself and others safe.
"Chère?" He knocked again. "I'll go if you want..."
A quick, acerbic response balanced on the tip of her tongue. Rogue swallowed hard, denying the bitter reply whose only purpose was to drive him away.
She wanted to be alone. Didn't she? Then again, that was never really an option for her. Her head was so full of her friends', enemies', and strangers' psyches that it buzzed constantly. Every action, every thought, was commented on by the chorus of voices, each with a different opinion. But, sometimes, she could almost forgot about the voices. When he was near.
"What do ya want Gambit?" she groused, all the while wishing that they could be going out on a date like Scott and Jean.
There was a soft thmp on the other side of the door as he rested his forehead against the wood. And though they were the only ones in the Mansion, he spoke softly. She could barely make out the intimate thrum of his deep, sonorous voice. "I noticed the date, chère. I wanted to see how you're doing. If you need anything."
Running her hands over her jean clad thighs, Rogue bit back a pained cry. Her self exile had as much to do with the date as it did with her habitual need to keep the world at arm's length. No one else had noticed or realized the significance. For everyone else, today was just another day. Why should they care? Even after all her years among the X-Men, no one had cared enough to ask. But, Gambit had.
Well, that wasn't entirely correct. He hadn't needed to ask because she had told him her story by her own accord. In fact, she told him many things she'd never told anyone else.
The confessions had started one evening months—years—ago when they were sitting on the roof, watching the sun set in brilliant crimsons which melded into saturated pinks and deep purples before becoming rich navies and star studded black. Earlier that day, she'd accidentally lost control of her powers while she'd been out running errands with Jubilee and Jean. As a result, she'd absorbed a massive infusion of strangers' memories and had lost the rest of the day to the scattered personas fighting for control. Once her own psyche had resurfaced again, at least enough to regain control, she'd come to the roof to find some privacy while she finish sorting through and locking away the memories. Her head pounded with the piercing ache of a post absorption headache.
Except the roof wasn't only her place of solitude. Remy was already there. He stubbed out his cigarette and greeted her with a nod as they settled into a companionable silence. To her surprise, his company felt more like an extension of herself than being in the presence of another person. After a time, he broke the silence and told her about the first time his powers came to him. He couldn't contain the power which buzzed and boiled in his veins and under his skin. About the fire in his hands and the fear that he was broken. He confessed his lack of control and the resulting damage. In those early days, he couldn't sleep and couldn't eat without the risk of charging anything he touched. He showed her the myriad of scars and burns hidden under his gloves. As he admitted his distress and confusion at the onset of his powers, she recognized her same fears about never gaining control, of never being able to touch another person. The hopelessness of believing they would be isolated forever. He wasn't looking for sympathy or pity, only to let her know that in his own way, he understood.
And, as they sat on the roof and he spilled the secrets of his powers, Rogue had felt able to share her story. To share the little those little details everyone assumed they already knew, but didn't actually have a clue. They all thought they knew her story. But, they'd never stopped to ask the details. Never stopped long enough to listen.
They knew how her powers manifested when she kissed a boy for the first time. Cody. She'd absorbed the life out of him, leaving him drained of everything but the barest imitation of life. Afterwards, she didn't know who she was or where she belonged. In her panic, she didn't know if she was Cody or Anna. She was both and she was neither. Too terrified to stay, too afraid to leave, she'd run into the woods and took taking refuge among the tamed wildness where she and Cody had spent many pleasant summer afternoons. Mystique had found her a few days later, her lips dripping with false promises. And Anna's—Rogue's—life changed forever.
What the others didn't know—what they never cared to ask—were the details of that day. Why should they? After all, Rogue they knew had disassociated herself from the Anna Marie of her past. She could never go back to the girl she had been before her powers manifested. That girl no longer existed.
Cody had kissed her on her thirteenth birthday. His birthday had been a month before and he had promised her that he would kiss her on hers. That she would be his girl. In her innocence, she had looked forward to the idea of being so grown up.
Looking back, she knew it was foolish. They were both too young to make promises about anything to last a lifetime. Their hopes for a bright and bold future together and away from Caldecott, were nothing more than a pipe dream. Even if her mutation hadn't interrupted their plans, their aspirations would never have been fulfilled. But, they both had been dreamers and refused to believe that the world ended at the county line. In the earnestness of youth, she had been excited about that first kiss and the promises for the future her books told her to expect to come with it. Young love and first crushes, only to be broken and buried before they had a chance to begin.
And only Remy knew that story. Only he had cared to listen. To give her the space needed to unfold her story in starts and stops as she sought the words. He hadn't judged her. Telling her that her dreams had been foolish. That she deserved what she got. Instead, he held her hand and listened. And when she finished, he thanked her for trusting him and pressed a kiss to her knuckles. He promised to always be there when she needed him. Only he knew today was her birthday—and her death day.
"Roguey...please."
"Come in sugah," she said. Because, even though she wanted solitude, she didn't want to be alone.
For her, life was always a series of carefully choreographed movements. She needed to know the exact whereabouts of everyone in her vicinity at all times. She needed to be cautious about where she sat and when she stood. Always wary of where the next touch might come from. Even simply moving across a room required meticulously planning. Being around other people was exhausting. She could never relax. If she wasn't always careful, if she didn't always try to preemptively move out of the way, they would blame her for not being careful enough. For not taking enough precautions. Like she didn't know she was dangerous. Like she didn't live with the consequences of every accident every day.
But, it was different with Remy. His presence felt more like an extension of hers. The need for constant vigilance slipped away and she could relax. He didn't exhaust her. Instead, it felt as though their time together rejuvenated her. In some ways being with Remy felt like being alone. Better than being alone. Because, when she was with him—even if they were simply sitting quietly—she could almost forget the voices. Their chatter, their opinions mellowed until they disappeared into a distant murmur, a white noise she could ignore.
The door opened at Remy's touch and he slipped into the room. Even if anyone else had been in the hallway, they wouldn't have noticed him entering her sanctum. Crossing the room, he stopped beside her and sat on the arm of her chair. He wore jeans without holes and a fitted sweater. His skin was as covered as hers—he even wore a full pair of gloves.
She tugged her gloves on, making certain the cuffs of the gloves overlapped with the long sleeves beneath. Once her hands were covered, Remy took her hand, giving it a squeeze, then kissing her knuckles in a tender caress.
"Don' you have a date or somethin' tonight?" She gestured at the window overlooking the driveway. "Everyone else does."
"Chère," he leaned in close and pressed a kiss to her hair. She hummed at the contact. As he spoke, his breath was a warm caress across her ear. "Dere's only one woman 'm interested in dating and I ain't gonna pursue anyone else while 'm courting you. You know dat."
She nodded and leaned a little closer to him. "That's not what the others think. They think you're out there on the prowl every evening."
"Is dat what you t'ink?" He didn't move, becoming unearthly still as he waited for her response.
"No." She whispered. Wishing she could give him everything he deserved.
"Den it don' matter what dey t'ink." All his habitual small fidgets returned to his body. His knee bounced in a rapid pulse. His thumb rubbed circles along the back of her hand.
"Why do you let them think that about you? Why don't you correct them?" Rogue wished the others saw in him what she did. Maybe they would trust him if they could see his good heart. True, he was haunted by a past she couldn't quite decipher. But, he wasn't the only X-Men to have skeletons in his closet. Her own was filled with bones that would haunt her until her dying day.
His expression was unusually open, revealing a glimpse into the turmoil of his heart, which she only ever saw in private moments like these. Finally, he shrugged, a languid rise and fall of his shoulders. "It's easier. Why do you hold everyone at bay?"
"It's easier," she agreed. After all, if everyone already thought they knew who you were and what you wanted, why try to correct them? Especially when they wouldn't listen to what you're saying or change how they treated you.
Speaking of doing things the easy or hard way, Rogue knew what she needed to do. She and Remy were already playing a dangerous game. Closing her eyes, she stood. She needed to create space between them. Her book, forgotten, slipped from her hands and would have fallen to the floor if it hadn't been for Remy's lightning fast reflexes. She moved to the window and pressed her forehead against the cool glass.
"You should be with someone who can touch you." Though the thought broke her heart, she knew she should release him. Let him go. Set him free so he could be with a woman who would give him everything he ever wanted.
"Chère, I don' want anyone else. I will wait as long as needed. 'M not such a slave to my body dat I can't go without sex." He cut to the heart of the matter, past all her protests and excuses.
Rogue opened her eyes and caught his reflection in the window. He had left his perch on the chair and from the perspective of their reflection, he appeared to be standing directly behind her. The burning red in his eyes pled with her to let him near. In the reflection, she could almost pretend he was holding her. But, what good would pretending do for either of them? There was no escaping, her heart was going to get hurt no matter what choices they made. But, she oughtn't let Remy keep risking his. The sooner he moved on, the sooner his heart would heal. Maybe it was time to face the facts.
"What if Ah never get control? Ya could be waitin' an eternity for nothin'..."
He stepped closer and wrapped his arm around her waist. His chin rested on her head. This, this was real. The warmth of his skin radiated into her. His arms were strong and steady. She felt safe and wanted and desirable. If only this could last.
"Den I'll wait an eternity. You are worth any wait, mon coeur." His voice was warm and homey and sent a shiver of want through her body. "'Member, we talked 'bout dis. Dere's more to love den de physical. Dere's more to us den being able to touch or not..."
"But what if Ah can't wait. What if that's what I want..." She stared at her hands. At the hated gloves which protected the world from her poisoned touch. That protected her from the world.
"Rogue. I will always be here for ya. If ya just need me to flirt with ya and remind ya that you're a desirable femme, I will do that. If you need me at your side just holding you like dis, I can do that too. And, if what you need somet'in' more intimate, 'm willing to take dat risk. We'll find a way. I promise." There was a raw honesty to his words. He spoke with a sincerity which bled through inch of his body and into hers. "You are worth more den all de treasure in de world. I will always choose you."
"Oh, Remy...it ain't fair..." The words caught into her throat. She was tired of pushing away her heart's desire and locking them deep inside.
"My life's never been fair. But it's becoming exceedingly better since you entered my life." His hands drifted to her hips and he turned her around. They stood face to face, her chin tilted up so she could look into his crimson eyes.
"What are ya doin'?" Rogue's breath quickened as she realized how close they were. It wouldn't take much and their lips would meet.
His gloved hand cupped her cheek and his thumb played along the curve of her lips. She gasped at the flittering, gentle caress. Her lips instinctively parting.
"Trust me." He whispered warm and sweet against her lips. There was something sacrosanct about those words when he said them. They were an unbreakable vow which passed between them.
Closing her eyes, she breathed her permission, her trust. "Yes."
Remy brushed his lips against hers in a flutter like the dance of butterfly wings. Her powers swelled at the contact, grasping and greedy, trying to latch onto the brief contact, but they could not.
A small whimper escaped from the back of her throat as Remy broke the contact. She rarely allowed herself to indulge in moments like this one and she wanted more. Her body pressed against his, trying to re-establish the all too brief contact. He rested his forehead against hers. Their hair served as a protective barrier.
"You will get control, mamour." He spoke with such earnest confidence, Rogue couldn't find it in her heart to contradict him."It isn't hopeless. We were able to touch for a moment and someday, we will be able to touch without limit. I believe in you."
"Thank you," Rogue whispered. An inkling of hope sprouted in her heart. Maybe he was right.