The Impossible Dream

by Aphreal42

A Rogue/Remy lovers' quarrel with farther-reaching implications. Characater studies on several members of the team. My first X-men story, written ages ago...

DISCLAIMER: The characters in this story belong to Marvel Comics and are used without their permission. This was written just for fun (and to get the idea out of my head so I could sleep at night), and I promise I'm not making any money off of it. Hope that's sufficient.

Author's Note: This story was inspired and begun when I had been reading comics for only about a year, so I was very familiar with some storylines (particularly those from the cartoon show) and completely ignorant of others. I've adjusted some details as I learned more. I guess you could call this an alternate reality or something like that. Suffice to say not all details are completely accurate to the comic plotlines, but if you accept the basic assumptions I start with, they carry through into a cohesive frame of reference. Also, I'd like to apologize in advance for my accents; they may come out a little weird.

The Impossible Dream

"Listen, people," Cyclops snapped, taking charge. "It's imperative that Sinister's lab be damaged beyond any hope of repair. We've taken out a lot of his equipment before, but this is the master database, and therefore more heavily guarded than anything we're encountered previously. We can't make it past the guards without calling in a lot more than we can effectively deal with. The only quiet way in is through these air vents. We've managed to get into the system and lift some diagrams so we have a good idea of how to navigate them." Cyclops gestured at a grate on the wall, large enough for a medium-sized person to get through. "Wolverine, Beast, and I definitely can't fit through there. Several parts of the passage will require flight." He turned his gaze over Jean, Rogue, and Storm, challenging them to evaluate their fitness for the assignment.

"I could easily navigate the airway telekineticly, but I would have no means to destroy the machines," Jean stated. "Besides, I'll need to focus my attention on psi-blocking whoever is sneaking in from detection."

"I shall go," Storm volunteered calmly. "Reaching the target presents me no difficulty, and I can summon lightning to strike its circuitry, which should damage the information beyond retrieval."

Cyclops nodded acceptance. "While Storm is in there, the rest of us are going to make a feint at the main entrance. That should keep most of the guards distracted and cause enough general disorder for her to get in and out without anyone noticing. Between the noise we're making out there and Jean's psi shield, they'll have no clue she was even there until we're long gone," he explained. "Get ready everyone; this may not be easy," he cautioned. Seeing that the team was prepared, he nodded firmly and gestured to Rogue to proceed.

She moved to the wall and ripped the grate off, opening the vent. "There yah are, sugah," she said to Storm with a languid smile and affected calm.

Storm nodded crisply and drew the winds around her, carefully flying into the vent. "Let's be sure she doesn't run into any early problems before we get entangled with the guards and aren't available to aid her," Cyclops suggested. "We can't afford any mistakes."

Jean closed her eyes, and a blue aura began to glow around her forehead as she tracked Storm's progress through the dark, small tunnel. A moment later, Jean gasped, and her eyes snapped open, wide with concern. "Her claustrophobia," she explained. "We have to get her out of there." Without waiting for another word, Rogue shot into the vent, rushing through the confining passages until she reached Storm's limp form, whimpering and paralyzed with fear. Rogue grabbed her friend's ankles and began slowly working them out backwards through the narrow tunnel, trying to murmur soothing reassurances.

When the two were free of the ventilation system, Storm stood trembling, on the verge of collapse. "Easy, gal. You're out now," Rogue cooed soothingly, taking the terrified woman in her arms. Storm clung to her desperately. After a moment, Rogue looked around the group. "Would one o' y'all take her? I don't figure me drainin' her would do much good to anyone right about now."

Beast nodded and moved over, gently taking the terrified woman in his arms. "Easy, my friend. You are safe now."

Storm nodded weakly, relaxing in his comforting embrace. A few minutes later, she detached herself from Beast and turned to speak to Cyclops, having regained her composure. Head held high and face set in determination, she spoke to the field commander, "I apologize. I should not have let my fears and personal concerns override our mission. I shall try again."

"No, Storm," Cyclops disagreed. "You shouldn't have gone in the first place. We'll find another solution. Gambit, your powers are ideal for this, and you might fit through the ducts. The only problem is that vertical stretch." He paused thoughtfully. "Jean, is it possible you could lift him?"

"Not while shielding him from detection and backing up the frontal assault. I can't guarantee his safety under those conditions, and I'm not going to risk it," she replied grimly, shaking her head.

"Rogue'd fit through better," Gambit remarked calmly.

"Yeah, but mah powers won't do much good," she shrugged, wondering what relevance that had. "Ah mean, Ah could rip the stuff apart, but it wouldn't trash the circuitry very effectively."

"I loan you mine, chere," he offered mischievously. "For a small fee, of course."

"How in the world do you plan...?" Rogue asked indignantly, breaking off as the realization dawned on her. "You don' mean..."

"A kiss, chere," he calmly confirmed her fears.

"Gambit, no," she protested weakly. "Ah...Ah..." She broke off helplessly, shaking her head. "You know what that'd do t'you," she added roughly.

"No, Rogue," Cyclops said firmly. "It's the only way that might work on such short notice. We don't have time to get creative."

"I understand your concern, Rogue," Jean said calmly, almost unconsciously projecting waves of soothing serenity. "We know it is possible to withstand your powers with minimal damage, and this mission is vital. It's an acceptable solution, if it's all right with both of you."

Rogue, about to protest again, looked into Gambit's burning red-black eyes, and the words died on her lips. "Sure ya want t'do this?" she asked, hoping for an escape route that she knew wouldn't come. "I don't wanna hurt you," she whispered softly.

"You won' chere," he murmured back. "And yes, Gambit been wantin' dis for a long time." Rogue nodded helplessly, her eyes hopeless and frightened. Gambit moved closer, one hand softly brushing her hair back from her face. Rogue wrapped her arms around him to catch him after she absorbed his energy. Steeling herself like a prisoner facing a firing squad, Rogue turned her face upward, meeting his gaze. Somehow, in the face of the love reflected in his expression, her fear melted away. He really did want this, despite the consequences.

Her scattered thoughts broke off suddenly as the kiss came. She felt the soft pressure of his lips on hers for just a moment before her powers took effect, and it was the most wonderful thing she had ever experienced. As the first tendrils of his thoughts floated into her mind, Rogue felt the intensity of his love for her, his gambler's soul willing to risk it all to have her, if even just for a moment. Then the strange electric sensation swept through her as she stole his energy and powers. The transfer complete, Gambit fell limply into her arms, unconscious, his energy drained away by her powers. Rogue noticed a softly contented and peaceful expression on his face.

Moving numbly as she tried to adjust to the borrowed thoughts racing through her mind, Rogue walked slowly to Storm, still cradling Gambit's limp form in her powerful arms. "Make sure he's all right," she murmured, passing him to the calm, supportive woman.

"I shall, Rogue," Storm assured her.

"I will be with you in your mind the whole time," Jean said, bringing Rogue back to the subject at hand. "If you are unsure about your path, leave your thoughts open to me for guidance." Rogue nodded, still a bit dazed and struggling to handle the onslaught of memories into her mind. Slowly she turned towards the vent, ready to head in.

"Wait a minute," Wolverine said harshly, almost growling. She turned back to see him looking through Gambit's pockets, searching for something. After a moment, he pulled out a handful of cards. "You're gonna need a weapon," he said, handing them to her. "Kinetic charges don't do much without somethin' to charge."

Rogue nodded without comment, accepting the cards and sliding them into her jacket pocket. Her thoughts blank, she turned and flew into the ducts, vaguely aware of Jean's presence accompanying her.

Rogue, are you okay? that presence asked.

"Ah'm fine," she snapped, roughly pushing away her confusion and concern. Jean didn't reply, but her feel remained dubious. Rogue stiffened her resolve and sped on even faster. She didn't need more pity, and she could handle the mission. When the ducts intersected, Jean's presence guided her the right way, but there were no more attempts at conversation.

Rogue couldn't have guessed how long she flew through the labyrinth of ducts. Soon the turns of her pathway filtered out the sun completely; the darkness became absolute. Her senses had abandoned her.

There was nothing to see but the intense blackness engulfing her, nothing to hear but the wind of her flight rushing past her ears, nothing to feel but the cold metal closing her in. The air had a metallic, dusty, moldy smell which left a strange feeling in her throat and mouth, as if it was rusting her as well. She was almost glad for that feeling; it reassured her that her senses were still functioning; she wasn't dead. But for Jean's presence hovering intangibly somewhere beside her, Rogue might have gone mad, trapped alone with just the muted voices in her head for company. Storm's claustrophobia was very easy to understand confined in this nothingness.

Finally, she broke free from the darkness. The duct ended in a grate similar to the one she'd entered by. Her eagerness to be free adding to her already heightened mutant strength, Rogue burst the grate away, hardly slowing, and emerged into the room containing that which she had come to destroy. Even the dim light pierced her dilated pupils, adjusted to the absolute darkness of her trip.

With a casual detachment, she studied the machinery. It was an alien, slightly threatening collection of metal and wiring, screens running unfathomable patterns, strange lights monitoring unknown functions. Still studying the bizarre contraption, Rogue slipped off her right glove and reached into her pocket for the cards. Holding one before her as she'd seen Gambit do, Rogue released the rein she'd kept over his powers, letting them leak out to charge the card. As it began glowing, she flipped it casually at the machine, watching with a smug grin as it detonated. It felt good to let some of that energy out of her. Mah aim's not up t' par, but that comes with practice, she thought with a shrug. She charged another and threw it, hitting a different part, trying to wreck the whole thing beyond repair. When she ran out of cards, Rogue began taking bits of metal the explosion had sent her way and throwing them back, charged with more of the energy Gambit had lent her. If only she could let the confused tension flow out of her as easily.

Her work complete, she surveyed the sparking, smoking wreckage with a tight-lipped smile. Satisfied that she'd accomplished her goal, she slid her glove back on and rushed back through the air ducts, eager to return to the sunlight and her companions.

A few days later

Rogue stood before Gambit's door, suddenly afraid of what she'd come to do. But it was too late to turn back now. Firmly, she raised one hand and knocked. Gambit appeared, his eyes widening a bit as he saw her. "Yah, chere?"

"Ah need to talk to you, Gambit," she said a bit roughly, fighting with herself, resisting the urge to break down the firm resolve she'd been building.

One eyebrow raised, he opened the door and let her in. "You got somethin' to say, chere?"

"Remy, Ah...Ah," she stopped and took a deep breath, composing herself. "Ah been thinkin' 'bout you, 'bout us. Us!" she laughed. "Gambit, 'us' is a joke. There ain't ever gonna be an 'us.' Not with mah powers. Your dreams've been real nice, and Ah never thought anybody'd care 'bout me wit' mah powers an' all. But Ah can't keep dreamin' when Ah know it ain't possible. If Ah were normal, if Ah could love without hurtin' someone, maybe Ah would love you, but," Her voice was thick, and by now tears filled her eyes, threatening to spill out. She dashed them away with the back of her hand. "It ain't gonna happen."

Unwilling to cry in front of him , she turned and fled from the room to find somewhere safe to sob, leaving Gambit, hurt and shocked, floundering in her wake.

Meanwhile

The air was cold as it rushed by Storm in her swift flight. Idly she wondered why she never adjusted the weather for her comfort. Perhaps she didn't wish to expend the effort, or perhaps she actually enjoyed the cool air. Usually, like today, it was simply because she hardly noticed it; she was in such a hurry to get to her destination. Why had this never occurred to her before? Well, at least she had the idea now. Finally, Storm spied what she had been looking for. She let the winds under her command float her down into the alley to land by the manhole. With a moderate effort, Storm lifted the cover and flew down into the tunnels, following the passages that led to the area controlled by the Morlocks, moving by memory more than sight.

She landed in a dimly lit area where she knew they would find her soon. It was best to be discovered waiting. They often took entrances as intrusions, and one asking favors did not achieve her goal by angering those she desired aid from. Even if she were their leader.

It didn't take long for one of them to find her. "What are you doing here?" he asked sharply. "Oh, Storm! I'm sorry, lady, I didn't recognize you in this light."

"You are forgiven," Storm replied condescendingly. She was their leader; they expected her to be imperious. After her years as a goddess, it was fairly natural. "Where is the Leech?"

"I will escort you to him, lady," he replied.

"Thank you," she nodded. "Please do so." The Morlock turned and began leading her through the maze of passages beneath the city. Storm followed silently, glad he hadn't asked her purpose. She hadn't even revealed that to anyone at the mansion, for the very simple reason that she simply wasn't sure it would work at all. She didn't want to raise any hopes that she would only have to dash later.

Her guide came to a halt before a door. "He should be inside. Permission to return to duty?"

"Thank you. Permission granted," Storm replied absently. As the Morlock left, she knocked on the Leech's door.

"Yes?" he asked, opening it cautiously. "Oh, lady Storm. What do you need?"

"A favor," she replied. "Leech, I know you've recently developed and learned better control over your powers. Precisely how do they operate?"

"If I concentrate, I can remove a mutant's powers. But they return in a few hours, usually six to eight. I can sometimes will them to come back sooner, but no later."

"You do not operate by touch?" she verified.

"No, by concentration," the Leech agreed.

"Excellent," Storm smiled. "If I bring a friend here, would you remove her powers for as long as you can?"

"Of course, lady Storm. Whatever you wish."

"Thank you, Leech. What is the quickest way out? I shall go and return soon with my friend."

"I will show you, lady Storm," the Leech replied, leading her out of the warren of tunnels.

Moments later

Gambit was still sitting where she'd left him, staring numbly at a wall. The first woman he'd ever trusted enough to admit his love for, and look what she did! Well, he'd learned, oh yes, he'd learned. And he was through with love. What good did it do him? It was easier when he could leave a girl without either of them hurting much; unless he had to, he'd never claimed to love them, and they'd all known he was a free spirit that they could never own. Sometimes, the partings had hurt, but it had always been his choice to leave. And he'd never really loved any of them this much.

And now, once, he'd taken a chance and opened his soul to a woman, offered her his heart, his entire being. And she'd accepted it for a bit, toyed with it, and thrown it right back at him. Once was enough; he would never let this happen again. No woman should have that kind of power over him. He needed to get out of here, prove to the world and himself that he didn't need her.

His mind whirling, Gambit slipped silently out the half-open window into the cool air of early evening.

Thirty minutes later

"Rogue, are you in there?" Storm's voice echoed at Rogue from outside her door. With a sigh, she got up to see what Storm wanted, wishing the woman would just go away. Wearily, Rogue pulled the door open, unable to maintain her hard, uncaring front for Storm. It took too much energy, and she always saw through it.

As soon as her eyes met Rogue's, Storm's excitement moved aside to let concern enter her face. "Rogue, are you all right?"

"Ah will be," she brushed aside the concern, unwilling to discuss it yet. The wounds were still too fresh. "Yah need somethin'?"

Storm's face brightened again. "Yes, please come with me. I have someone I would like for you to meet."

"Can it wait?" Rogue asked plaintively. "Ah rally don' feel like..." She broke off at the determined look in Storm's pale blue eyes.

Storm shook her head firmly. "I think it cannot. It may even cheer you a bit."

"Ah doubt that, but if it means that much to yah, Ah'll come humor you."

"Good," Storm smiled secretively. "Then follow me."

Rogue just nodded and moved mechanically, her mind elsewhere.

Meanwhile

"Fancy runnin' into anotheh true Southeneh here in New York," the blonde drawled. "Lousyanna? You're a Cajun, then?"

"I been called dat, oui," Gambit replied with a smile.

"But you ain't?" she smiled back. "Or you are?"

"Depends on how you mean de word, chere," he shrugged. The blonde only laughed and raised her eyebrows.

She was perfect: Southern, pretty, wild and full of attitude, independent, and nonmutant. Just what he needed. Hair of the dog...

Fifteen minutes later

The cold air swept the tears off Rogue's burning cheeks. The solitude of flight combined with her already depressed thoughts formed a mood so poignant she had to give in to it with a few silent tears. She was a little surprised by that; she thought she'd cried herself out earlier. Storm was kind enough not to ask, pretending she didn't notice her friend's obviously private problems. Rogue was infinitely grateful for that.

Rogue had felt her heart break when she'd fled from Gambit's room, knowing from that point there was no going back, knowing also there was no other way open to her. She'd done what she had to, but that didn't mean it would be easy. She was fairly sure she loved him, but since normal love wasn't possible for her, she had to bury her feelings and let him be free. That bitter gift was the only kind of twisted love she could offer him, caring enough to force him to find someone else. A quick, clean break of his heart was kinder and would heal much faster than the slow, agonizing crushing that fate was setting them up for. She knew that, but oh, it hurt so much. She wished she could have stayed long enough to explain her reasons to him, but she had to flee. The tears had been coming, and she couldn't break down in front of him. She wouldn't reveal her weakness, not to him, not to anyone. Well, Storm had seen her cry, but she couldn't escape Storm. Storm could follow her anywhere, and she alone knew that, despite what she said, Rogue did need someone to follow and comfort her. She was grateful to Storm for that, but no one else had better try it.

Not that anyone would. She'd done such a good job keeping everyone out that only one person dared to brave her cold front. So she'd had to chase him away, too. She'd done a good job of that; he certainly wouldn't try it again. And she had no one to blame for her pain. She'd gotten scared and pushed him away, just like always. Oh, she could tell herself it was for his own good, but she'd just been scared of what would happen. Scared of love. She wanted to love him. Why pretend? She did love him, but she was so afraid of hurting him.

Or was she afraid he'd tire of the game of trying to love her? The challenge would only hold his interest for so long before he moved on to the next game. Did she think she had to reject him before he rejected her? No! Rogue cried out silently to herself. Ah love him. Ah'm just so scared.

Of hurting him or yourself? something inside her taunted.

Ah love him! she screamed back in her head. Ah love him. She closed her eyes and let the tears come, the wind cooling her flaming cheeks.

Rogue felt a gentle touch on her arm. "Rogue, are you all right?" Storm asked softly, now hovering by her side.

"Ah don't know, Storm," she sighed. "Ah jus' don' know anymore."

"I don't wish to pry, but if you need to talk about it, I will listen," Storm said gently.

"Ah..." Rogue shook her head. "Storm, Ah can't even think 'bout it coherently right now." She blinked to stop the tears. "Let's just go wherever it is we're goin' an' get this over with."

Storm nodded and flew downward into an alley, contemplating the wisdom of her timing. Rogue followed slowly to land with the other by a manhole. "The Leech will be inside," Storm announced, stooping to lift the cover.

"Ah'll get that, sugah," Rogue said, bending automatically to move it. "Least there's somethin' mah powers're good for." She deftly removed the cover and stood. "After you, sugah."

Storm nodded and slipped down the tunnel, fighting off a surge of claustrophobia. This was more important.

Rogue followed silently, lost in her melancholy thoughts, watching numbly as Storm carefully chose their passageways, remembering her earlier trip. After a few minutes in the dark cold, Storm stopped in a dim tunnel. "Now we wait to be found."

"Found? By who?" Rogue asked, also stopping.

"The Morlocks," Storm answered. "Someone will come to take us to the Leech."

"They know we're comin'?"

"The Leech does. He wishes for you to meet him."

Why? Rogue thought with a frustrated sigh. Storm's closed expression made it obvious there was no further explanation coming. If she's 'ginst the idea, why'd she bring me? Rogue wondered. If not, what's the big secret? I got a feeling she's up t'somethin'. If only Ah knew what.

"Who are you?" came a harsh voice, a form suddenly appearing in the shadowy tunnel.

"Morlock, I am Storm," the calm woman replied. "We are here to see the Leech."

"Who's she?" he asked suspiciously, remaining in the shadows, out of sight.

"My companion," Storm replied shortly, her pale blue eyes icy.

"As you say," he replied gruffly. "I'll show you to the Leech's quarters."

"Thank you, but we know the way," Storm brushed by him imperiously, Rogue following. When they were out of the guard's hearing, Storm spoke again more normally. "I apologize for the act. They expect it of me." Rogue nodded, not quite sure what she meant but too listless to ask.

Storm stopped before the Leech's door and knocked demandingly. It was opened , and Storm entered without invitation, Rogue still in tow.

"Welcome again, lady Storm," the Leech nodded closing the door. "This is your friend?"

"Yes, Leech," Storm replied warmly. "This is Rogue."

"Pleased t'meet yah, sugah," Rogue smiled, hand extended. The Leech nodded, taking her offered hand and carefully studying her face. She felt a strange tingling sensation rush over her, so subtle and quick she decided she'd only imagined it. Her thoughts felt strangely clear, and she suddenly realized how tired and drained she truly was. It had been a long, weary day.

Her eyes closed momentarily to rest from this draining, Rogue missed the approving glance of confirmation that passed between Storm and the Leech.

Meanwhile

"You find Gambit intrestin', chere?" the cajun asked with a smooth grin.

"Fasc'natin'," the blonde drawled her agreement. "And yet," with a raised eyebrow, "a bit of a puzzle as well."

"How so, chere?" Gambit responded.

"Well, I just feel like there's more t' you than I'm seein'," she replied with a meaningful shrug.

"I take you somewhere, an' maybe you un'erstan' Gambit better," he suggested with a very crafty glance.

"Maybe," she agreed, returning the suggestive look. "Why don' we try it an' find out?"

Moments later

"Storm, Ah'm feelin' real tired all 'f a sudden," Rogue murmured. "You mind too much if we don' stay so long? Nothin' personal, Leech."

"No, Rogue, I would not mind. We came only for you to meet the Leech. We may leave any time you wish," Storm replied, suppressing a telling smile.

Rogue nodded and turned to their host. "Yah won' be offended if we leave now, will yah?" she asked almost plaintively.

"No, you may go," he agreed. "Come again, lady Storm. Your Morlocks enjoy your presence here."

"I shall, Leech," Storm smiled, thanking him with her eyes. "Come, Rogue. Let us return."

"Yeah, sure," the other murmured tonelessly. "Nice meetin' ya and all."

Storm moved gracefully down the tunnels to where the Morlock guard had challenged them. With a quick glance over her shoulder to be sure Rogue was following, Storm left the ground, rushing up the tunnel.

Rogue moved to follow and discovered her feet wouldn't leave the floor. Flying had become so automatic that she panicked when it failed her. "Storm!" she called out in terror. "Somethin's wrong!"

"What is it, Rogue?" Storm asked, smothering a smile as she slowed and turned back.

"Storm, Ah can't fly," Rogue said desperately. "Mah powers, or Ms. Marvel's, they're gone."

Seeing her friend's panic, Storm decided it was time to let the secret out and ease her concern. "Rogue, do you know what the Leech does?"

"What?" Rogue looked up baffled. "What's that have to do with it?"

"I apologize for frightening you," Storm smiled gently. "I suppose I should have told you I was bringing you here to have the Leech remove your powers." Rogue's eyes widened from panic to confusion. "That's his power, Rogue. He removes others' powers for a period of up to eight hours."

Rogue's face smoothed and brightened as she realized what her friend meant. "Mah powers are gone for eight hours?"

"Yes, Rogue," Storm smiled. "An eight hour reprieve from your curse."

"Thank you, Storm," Rogue whispered, her voice thick, tears filling her eyes again, but this time from joy instead of misery.

"You're welcome, my friend," Storm said, her eyes a bit misted as well at her friend's intense emotion. "Now, maybe we should return to the mansion so you can make the best use of this gift." Rogue's eyes spoke her eager agreement for her. "Come, I shall carry you."

"Are you sure mah powers're completely gone?" Rogue asked, instinctively stepping away from the contact. In reply, Storm offered one hand for Rogue to test. Hesitantly, Rogue removed one glove and took Storm's hand, gasping in delighted surprise as their hands met without incident. Her face alight with radiant joy and disbelief, Rogue slipped both gloves off and tucked them into her jacket pockets. Smiling, she moved to where Storm could get a hold of her for the flight home.

Thirty minutes later

Rogue glanced over at her jacket laid neatly across her bed and down at her bare hands. She would have changed into something nicer than her uniform, but she couldn't stand to waste any of the time she'd been given. It was amazing how much delight she found in taking her gloves off without fear, something anyone else would have taken for granted. How precious a gift is normalcy.

During the walk through the halls to Gambit's room, Rogue began plotting out the perfect scenario. She'd silently open the door, slip up behind him and deliberately set her bare hand on his cheek. She could envision the shocked look on his face when he turned to see who it was. She'd move her right hand onto his shoulder and move till they were just barely touching, tucking her other hand behind his head to pull his lips to meet hers. Just as she'd longed to do for years, since the first time his burning eyes had met hers, the first time she'd felt her heart melt with that rakish smile. To be able to touch someone, to feel like she could love him, finally. That was all she wanted, and now, finally, after all this time...

NO! She bit her lip to keep from crying it aloud; she'd have died of humiliation. Better to slip away now without anyone knowing. A confrontation would only destroy the few shreds of dignity she had left. At least she hadn't been seen.

Humiliation and bitter fury burning through her, Rogue ran to the Danger Room, needing to strike back at something. Androids and holograms would have to do. Tears stinging her eyes, she viciously jabbed the buttons to set up a unique program, not trusting herself to speak the commands in an even, steady voice the computer would understand. Angrily brushing the tears from her flaming cheeks, Rogue fled from the control room to the training area. The only way to escape this humiliation was to fight back, destroy something. She had to lash out; she was so hurt and angry. For once, she'd been able to open her soul, and then...How could he! Tears of fury and pain flooding her eyes, Rogue stood facing the robots changed by holograms into the one person she most wanted to hurt, the one she both loved and hated.

Meanwhile

Storm entered the war room where most of the others were gathered in an unofficial meeting, a secretive smile on her face. "Jean, would you check on Gambit?"

"Storm, you know I generally dislike intruding upon people's privacy," Jean said, taken aback by the request, especially coming from Storm. "If there is some reason, I could make an exception, but I must know why. This isn't something I usually feel comfortable doing."

"Why d'ya ask, Storm?" Jubilee asked. "Ya worried 'bout him?"

"No, not worried exactly," Storm replied evasively.

"So what d'you know that we don't," Wolverine growled quietly.

"I'd just like to know if it worked," she replied meaningfully and evasively.

"If what worked?" Jubilee asked with a puzzled glance at her. Storm only gave her a mysterious smile.

"Storm, if you feel it justified, I will do it," Jean replied at last, her respect for the older woman influencing her normally courteous policies. "But I do hope you have a reason." Calmly, Jean closed her eyes and sent her thoughts soaring towards Gambit. "Oh, my," she murmured, opening her eyes with a start, a slight blush coming to her face. "Storm, I assume you have an explanation," she said, perplexed.

"I requested a favor from one of the Morlocks," Storm explained. "The Leech. I believe you're familiar with him from an encounter which allowed you to see Scott's eyes." She waited for Jean to catch the veiled reference.

"You mean you...Oh, I see!" Jean's face brightened as Storm's meaning caught on. "How perfect, Storm! Why did we never think of this sooner?"

"He's just recently learned the required control," Storm replied.

"Would either of you mind letting the rest of us in on this?" Jubilee asked a bit angrily.

"Storm's Morlock friend temporarily removes mutants' powers with no negative side effects," Jean explained simply.

"His powers used to operate as a general ambiance that drained all mutants around him, but he has now learned to keep the energy inside and let it out in small focused bursts to negate a mutant's powers for hours with out his presence being required," Storm clarified.

"And?" Jubilee asked irritably. She hadn't put things together, but Beast was softly chuckling. Wolverine was still sitting with his arms crossed on his chest, unmoving, but there was a slight smile on his face as well.

"Well, it occurred to me that mayhaps he and Rogue should cross paths," Storm commented innocently for Jubilee's sake. "It just happened to happen today."

"So?" Jubilee shrugged, disgruntled at being left out of the joke. Then her eyes widened. "Oh! You mean Storm just sent Jean to check on..." Jubilee broke off in a fit of laughter. "Storm, everybody thinks you're so proper, and then, out of nowhere, you come up with this and set Jean up to mind-walk in at a time like that." Jubilee was convulsing with laughter, and from the look on Storm's face, it was probably fortunate she was unable to continue.

Ignoring the teenager's comments, Storm turned back to Jean. "Was it wrong of me to interfere?"

"Of course not!" Jubilee exclaimed, having calmed down enough to speak coherently.

"From my brief contact with his mind, Gambit is," Jean added with a delicate cough, "quite happy."

Seconds later

Rogue gasped as a minor explosion burned into her side. Ah forgot, she thought bitterly. Ah can't fly. Ah don' have mah powers. The reminder brought a new wave of fury over her, causing her to leap at the nearest robot and whip the staff from his hands, whirling on the others. "Ah hate you," she snarled through tears, lashing the staff at the robots as more explosions caught her in the back and thigh. Another staff slammed into the back of her head, and she turned, delivering a sharp kick that put one more robot out of the fight. She turned weakly back to the other six, mind reeling and vision blurred by tears and dizziness.

There was only on firm thought in her mind. Destroy. She swung the staff at a robot's midsection. Shock ran through her arms as it was wrenched from her grip. No powers, no extra strength, she thought, chastising herself for forgetting. You're jus' like anybody else would be up against him. With a rush of desperate fury, she darted at a robot with a staff, ducking a glowing card that hit the floor beside her. She dispatched her target with a knee in the stomach and a blow to the face. She grabbed the fallen robot's staff, glad the hologram faded when the robot was disabled. She didn't know if she could handle facing that still, lifeless form with his face, knowing she was responsible.

Enough! she thought angrily at herself and lunged viciously at another robot. A thrown card hit her back and threw her off course, causing her to miss the robot's chest, her blow catching him in the pit of the stomach. The robot doubled over, and a swift blow to the back of the neck left him cold. Another one out! She was losing count. How many were left? Her vision was clouding, and the images swam before her eyes, distorting the number of enemies left.

A card stung her hand, and she dropped the staff. Seeing her go down after it, they closed in. No! Ah'm not done for yet! A cry of fury ringing in her head, Rogue shattered one of the robot's heads with her retrieved staff, a surge of elation running through her. It dampened quickly as the form fell. This one's hologram lingered a moment after he fell. Staff falling from her grip, she stood transfixed, staring at him in horror. A blow to the head partially shook her from her reverie. She broke completely from her trance as the fallen form's hologram flickered and melted away, leaving a collection of metal and mangled equipment.

Head whirling, Rogue turned to face the three remaining enemies. She could see three separate, if slightly blurred, forms now, one with a staff, two with cards ready to throw. Seeing the forms' arms move, she ducked to the floor. One card hit her back, but only one, so she must have dodged the other.

She tried to scramble to her feet, but her arm gave out, and she fell back again. She fell onto the edge of the staff and quickly pulled it away, lashing at the legs of the nearest figure. He fell to her level, and she managed a kick in the head as they scrambled across the floor, cards exploding all around. Two more, she thought desperately. Only two more.

Meanwhile

"Jean, would you mind looking in on Rogue as well?" Storm asked cautiously.

Jean looked a bit torn between curiosity and respect for privacy. "Storm, I'm really not sure I should, now that I know what I'm getting into." The last part was said with a quizzical twist to her lips as she tried to remain serious.

"Jean, please," Jubilee begged. "Can ya really say that ya aren't the least bit curious to know what Rogue feels. It's her first chance to actually be normal and feel what everyone else feels all the time. Well, everyone with much of a life, but anyway, aren't ya curious?"

"Yes, I am curious," Jean agreed. As Jubilee started to seize that advantage, she continued. "But curiosity is not a sufficient excuse for me to invade. And for the very reason that this is a unique experience for her, I feel we should leave it be."

"But, Jean..." Jubilee began whining.

"Jubilee, I wish to respect her right for privacy," Jean stated firmly. "The matter is closed."

Seconds later

Rogue pulled herself to her feet, facing her two remaining opponents. One sent a card at her, and her weak effort to dodge failed. She felt a small trickle of blood running down her side and limped towards the one with the cards, judging him to be the greater threat. The other's staff caught her stomach and head in quick succession. A fresh wave of pain exploded through her head, along with the rueful thought that she might have been wrong. Dismissing the thought and trying to shake off the blows, she struggled on towards her goal, head whirling, side throbbing. She was no longer operating on hatred, only a desperate need to survive. She had to stop these last two before they killed her. No one was controlling this to ensure her safety. And the Danger Room, aware of her usual invulnerability, automatically deactivated its safety features for her solo sessions. It was all up to her.

An explosion hit her left shoulder. Stifling a cry of pain, she struck the thrower with her staff, a weak blow that he shrugged off easily. Breathing raggedly, she aimed more carefully and jabbed the end into his abdomen, knowing she was too weak to muster the leverage and force for a good swing. The robot bent a bit in response to her feeble attack, slightly clutching his midsection. She swung her weapon at his head, trying to use that momentary advantage. He jerked quickly upright and to one side, avoiding her slow attack.

Falling back on a strategy born of desperation, Rogue aimed a sweeping kick at her opponent's legs, knocking him off balance, and then sent her staff down on his head. As he fell limp, illusion cloak falling away, she felt the one remaining robot's staff crack into the back of her head. Waves of red and black swept through her field of vision, and she fell to her knees, jolting her bleeding side, the sharp pain bringing tears to her eyes and clearing the numbness from her head. A well-aimed strike lashed into her ribs on the uninjured side, and she felt something crack. A low moan escaped her lips as she dragged herself to her feet, staggering under a blow to her back, aimed at the kidneys. She turned to face her final opponent, the hardest one to beat. She was tired, weak, and painfully injured. This last one was going to be the best, too. She cursed the Shi'ar technology that adapted her opponents to counter her technique as she went along.

She turned to find him standing nonchalantly, staff twirling slowly to form a protective shield that could lash out at any time. His face was set into that defiant, mocking grin he always wore while fighting. Such a perfect copy. She half expected him to speak to her.

But he didn't; he was only an android, not the real thing. He simply stood, staff spinning, awaiting her move. Like a chess game, she thought irrelevantly. He just made a crushin' move, and he's waitin' for mah response. Hope Ah have one. Well, if he's waitin', Ah have time t' catch mah breath and plan this one out.

The whirling staff protected his upper body and his legs to the knee. The only vulnerable area was lower leg. If she could get a good strike in and make him drop his guard, maybe she could take him out. If she had the strength and the speed left in her. The staff was whirling as fast as her mind, and its steady spin began to mesmerize her deadened senses. Her head was throbbing with her heartbeat, it hurt to breathe, and her legs were buckling. Her vision was clouding over again, and everything was beginning to spin at the same pace as his staff. Her arms went dead, and her own staff fell from her hands, the clatter as it hit the metal floor barely registering on her dulled mind.

A hard blow exploded through her clouded mind, and she felt a small warm trickle of blood on her left cheek. She felt her body stagger, and she knew if she went down now, she wouldn't get up again. No one was keeping an eye on her, and by the time they were alerted, this robot would have finished the mission she had programmed it for.

Strengthened by desperation and the instinctive will to live, she struggled to stay on her feet. Digging one organized thought from her swirling mind, she lashed her left foot out at her opponent's ankles, knowing she had to get him down before she went. Feeling his balance give way, she tried to follow up her advantage, but her vision was clouded and spinning.

A wave of dizziness swept over her as she knelt to retrieve the staff, and the strength rushed from her deadened limbs. She collapsed on the floor. Her clouded mind reeled, and waves of darkness threatened to overcome her. Weakly, she fought against them, and she remained conscious, for the time being.

Disoriented, thoughts spinning, Rogue blinked to clear her fuzzed vision. When her senses returned, she realized she was not laying on the floor as she'd supposed, but on another body. "Remy?" she asked softly, one hand brushing her hair from his cheek, trying to make out details through blurred eyes.

A fist hit her face sharply, and the taste of blood in her mouth reminded her of where she was. Refusing to give up what little advantage she had, Rogue remained on top of her struggling adversary, fairly certain this was her last chance. She raised herself up a bit and began crashing his head into the floor, desperate, beyond logical thought.

This ain't workin', she thought, doubling over from a sharp blow to the stomach. Weakly, she opened her eyes and saw her opponent's discarded staff, forgotten and lying only a few feet away. Mah only chance, she thought weakly. Struggling against the wave of nausea that rushed over her, Rogue dove for the staff. As her fingers wrapped tightly around it, she whirled, aiming for his head. A sharp kick in her already bleeding side threw off her aim and sent her sprawling in pain. He stood over her, foot raised over her head to finish her off. Desperate, Rogue rolled away, staff clasped fiercely to her body.

Reacting out of desperation and terrified instinct, Rogue lashed the staff out, aiming for her opponent's stomach, hoping to knock his breath away to give her some small chance for survival. Somehow, the blow missed its intended target and crushed viciously into her adversary's groin. Despite her weak condition and blurred vision, Rogue smiled grimly as she watched him double over in intense pain. As she dragged herself to her feet, Rogue's head began throbbing again, and she felt the warmth of blood on her side and face.

Steeling away the pain and weakness, fighting to steady her shaking limbs, Rogue raised the staff, sending it crashing down into her writhing opponent's head, grinning in bitter satisfaction as she felt the metal skull crush under her blow. He fell limply to the ground, hologram slowly dissolving to leave the metal skeleton of a Danger Room droid.

There, she thought weakly. Ah'm finished. Head spinning, vision fading, Rogue stumbled about on shaking legs, trying to work her way to the door. Gasping with pain at every breath, she closed her eyes to block the tears that came. Ah need help, she thought weakly. Beast can treat me. Ah just got to get to him. Head whirling, body battered and unresponsive, Rogue's weak legs gave out under her, and she collapsed to the floor, slipping into unconsciousness as her body crashed down hard.

Meanwhile

"Jean, just a quick check," Jubilee pleaded.

"No, Jubilee, it's not right," Jean shook her head firmly. "I won't intrude."

"Just a quick peek, just to be sure," Jubilee whined.

"To be sure of what?" Storm asked quickly, a bit concerned. Rogue was not acting normally when I went to get her, she recalled. Did something happen that Jubilee knows about? How could she? And yet...

"Just to check," Jubilee shrugged off Storm's query.

"Would you check on her, Jean?" Storm agreed, truly worried as she recalled her friend's emotional state.

"I'm not really sure that I should," the other replied dubiously, confused by Storm's sudden change of heart. "Her privacy should be respected."

"Please, Jean, just to be sure. Without her powers, she's very vulnerable," Storm persisted.

"Gumbo'll take care of her," Wolverine growled.

"All the same, I do feel slightly ill at ease about this," Beast murmured thoughtfully. It's as if someone's calling to me, he thought. As if she needs my help.

"As do I," Storm agreed firmly.

Jean sighed. "I'm afraid we're outnumbered, Logan," she remarked lightly. "A quick check, no more, to ease your concern," she added with a troubled glance at Storm.

"Thank you," Storm replied with a slight nod.

Drawing in breath for concentration, Jean closed her eyes and sent her thoughts out to find her target. With a gasp and a soft, whimpered cry, Jean sprang to her feet, eyes flying open wide with shock and a touch of fear.

"My, my," Wolverine said drolly. "The cajun must know a few tricks Cyke doesn't."

"No," Jean said, eyes still wide. "She's not with him."

"What?" Storm exclaimed.

"She's not with Gambit," Jean repeated firmly. "And she's in terrible pain."

"Where is she?" Beast asked with concern.

"I don't know," Jean replied desperately. "I broke contact before I discovered her location."

"Can you go back?" Storm suggested worriedly.

"I'll try," Jean murmured dubiously and closed her eyes. After a moment, she opened them again and slumped back into her chair. "Danger Room," she gasped raggedly. "Hurry!"

"Are you all right?" Storm asked on her way out the door.

"I'm fine," she gasped commandingly. "Go to Rogue; she's not." Storm nodded and rushed off after Beast and Jubilee, feet leaving the floor as she sprung into flight.

"Logan," Jean called as he moved a bit more slowly after the others.

"Jean?" he replied as gently as he could.

"You're not going with the others." Her telepathic ability made it more a statement than a question.

"She's got a doctor and enough nurses that I'd only be in the way. I'm gonna get the cajun," Wolverine growled, leaving the room before she could protest.

Moments later

Storm reached the Danger Room door and landed, quickly punching the access code. She watched impatiently as the door slid aside, begrudging it the few seconds it lengthened her trip. Beast sprung up to stand by her side, rushing through the door behind her as soon as it was open wide enough for his cumbersome form to pass.

Storm left her feet again as soon as the door was far enough open for her to fit through it, flying to her friend's side. She landed deftly and dropped to her knees by Rogue in one fluid motion. The brunette was sprawled on the Danger Room floor amongst mangled robots, proof she had vanquished her opponents before being overcome. A staff lay by her, clasped weakly in one limp hand, one of many such instruments scattered about the room.

Beast stopped and crouched by Storm, reaching one paw out to rest on Rogue's neck, feeling for a pulse. Storm's wide blue eyes met his, full of concern, and he held her gaze. "She lives," he said in a soft, firm voice. "I can't guarantee recovery. She must be taken to the infirmary immediately."

Storm nodded tense agreement. "Where is Jubilee?"

"She went into the control room to examine Rogue's program," Beast explained, carefully lifting the fallen woman and standing. "She thought determining the type of injury might be beneficial in treatment."

"She shall assume we are taking Rogue for treatment. I do not need to wait for her," Storm decided, moving to proceed ahead of Beast to clear his path and open doors.

Meanwhile

"A custom-made program, huh?" Jubilee mused. "Not one she had in storage." It had taken her a minute to get the computer back to voice command so she could use it, but she'd had to take the time since she wasn't adept at using its manual mode.

"That is correct," the computer replied.

Jubilee rolled her eyes. "I wasn't talking to you, but now I am. Describe the program."

"Rogue requested to have ten robots sent against her, all cloaked in a hologram image previously on file. They were to be randomly armed from two possibilities."

"Display hologram image," Jubilee requested, struggling to stick to terms the computer wouldn't call syntaxes on.

"Image displayed."

Jubilee gasped as the familiar face appeared. She recovered quickly. It really did make sense, knowing Rogue and the love-hate relationship she seemed to have with him. "And were these weapons, by any chance, collapsing staves and explosive cards?"

"Negative and affirmative."

"What?" Jubilee asked, startled. She wasn't expecting a reply. Then she quickly added, "I mean, clarify."

"The staves were not to be made collapsible; this detail was not specified in the program."

"Oh," Jubilee murmured. "Same difference," she added in a low mutter.

"Please repeat more distinctly."

"Nevermind," she replied, rolling her eyes at it again. Dumb machine, she thought. But it makes sense that Rogue's in pretty bad shape. Least she's alive. Without her powers, she shouldn't even have survived against ten of Gambit. Admittedly, the program would likely have given her no trouble with her powers intact, but as it was it had nearly killed her. "Wait till I tell Storm!" she murmured and rushed from the control room, ignoring the computer's request for clarification.

Seconds later

The blonde was absolutely perfect: sweet, wild, and eager. She had managed to nearly completely clear from his mind all thoughts of...her. Thoughts began flooding back, and he pushed them desperately away, roughly drawing the blonde closer, feeling her hands respond, caressing his back. He tried again to lose himself in the physical sensations.

A shattering noise broke the near silence, and the blonde's piercing scream followed it. Gambit whirled around to see Wolverine, claws extended, standing among the splinters of what had moments earlier been the door to Gambit's room. Gambit's surprised, outraged cry died on his lips as a growl rose in Wolverine's throat.

"You," he snarled, pointing his claws at the blonde. "Get out! Now!" As she hesitated, eyes wide in shock, he took a menacing step forward. "Go however you want, as long as it's fast. Just leave!" At another growl, she recovered from her paralysis and fled through the half-open window.

Furious and shocked, Gambit turned on the intruder. "Mon ami, don' you..."

"Shut up, Cajun," Wolverine said harshly, struggling to keep his temper in check. "Come along easy, and I won't use these on anything else." Slowly, he retracted his claws, the scraping of metal ringing in Gambit's ears.

Dozens of questions and outraged protests whirled through his head, but all Gambit managed to say was, "Go where, mon ami?"

"Just shut up and come," Wolverine growled, turning and striding off furiously, expecting Gambit to follow, which he did.

Wolverine stormed down the hall, muttering angrily to himself. A few phrases floated back to Gambit, but they were too hazy and indistinct to make any sense. In a sudden burst of anger, Wolverine rounded on Gambit. "You've nearly killed her, and you don't care!" he exclaimed. "She's laying there, bleeding, slipping away, and you're messing around with some slut from who-knows-where!"

A sudden rush of panic froze Gambit's heart. "Who, mon ami? What 'appen?"

Wolverine was too caught up in his ranting to reply. He may not even have heard. The flow of angry words was cut off as he stopped suddenly by the infirmary door. "Gumbo, if anything happens to her," Wolverine threatened fiercely, turning and opening the door without finishing.

A scene of somewhat organized chaos met Gambit's eyes as he entered the room. Jubilee was babbling nervously to Storm who hovered worriedly behind Beast, trying to watch without interfering. Beast was working carefully on a bloody, motionless patient dressed in green and yellow. Mon dieu, no.

Wolverine left Gambit's side to relieve Storm of Jubilee's nervous chatter. Jean moved to intercept Gambit's slow progress towards Beast and his patient. "What 'appen, chere?" he asked softly, eyes wide with confusion and fear.

"Let's go where we can talk without disturbing Beast's work," Jean said soothingly, linking one arm through Gambit's and guiding him gently to a small room where he couldn't see the bloody work being done on his beloved. She then released him and softly closed the door behind them. "Now," she said calmly, seating herself and gesturing for him to do likewise. "How much do you already know?"

At his blank expression and the slow, bewildered shaking of his head, Jean sighed. "I'll start at the beginning of what I know. Storm took Rogue to meet a Morlock who could remove her powers for a few hours. My knowledge is vague from there. Jubilee claims Rogue set up a program in the Danger Room which was too much for her with her powers removed. She was against ten robots, cloaked in your image. Fortunately, considering the built-in assumptions regarding her invulnerability, she managed to defeat them all before collapsing. Beast is caring for her. I don't know how she is." Jean paused thoughtfully. "If I may ask, what upset her? She was reportedly excited and happy when she left Storm's company."

Gambit's shocked, guilty face and her memory of briefly touching his mind gave her a decent clue of the answer he refused to speak. Instead of admitting his guilt, he changed the subject slightly. "How'd you know dat somet'ing was wrong?"

"Storm requested that I briefly touch your mind," Jean explained. A slightly unreadable look crossed Gambit's face, and his feelings of shame and uncertainty touched at the edges of Jean's empathic perception. She brushed them away and continued. "I was then persuaded to do the same for Rogue, and I discovered her condition." Jean paused to allow him to digest the information and perhaps reply.

Gambit remained sitting, staring blankly, mind radiating a whirl of emotions that swarmed Jean's consciousness. She had to struggle to ignore them and not intrude on his privacy. "Gambit, there's one thing that I need to ask you," Jean began hesitantly. "When I touched your mind, I picked up very strong emotions accompanied by thoughts of Rogue." He didn't reply, so she pressed further. "If Rogue was in the Danger Room, and you were with someone else, why were your thoughts of Rogue?"

"I love her," Gambit whispered, unfocused eyes still staring at nothing. His accent was thickened by grief almost to the point of being unintelligible. "Beast can't le' her die. De blonde, she din't mean nothin'. Only 'cause Rogue say she don' wan' me. De blon' did, an' she was close 'nuff so's I'd preten'. If I'd known, I nev' would 'ave...Jeannie, you know I'd nev' hurt her!"

A wash of sincere, troubled emotion assaulted Jean's mind as he spoke. "I believe you," she murmured gently to reassure him. She stretched her thoughts into the other room. "Beast has finished. Do you wish to see how she is?"

Blankly, he nodded and rose. Jean moved to his side, deftly catching his arm and guiding him. His body was stiff, and he walked like he was asleep. His tense, worried face was a mask of despair. Jean didn't know how to comfort this silent, enigmatic grief. This was so different from the Gambit they all knew. Jean could only guide him over to where Rogue lay. While they'd talked, Beast and his assistants had removed her bloodied clothes and dressed her in a hospital type gown. Jean was grateful Gambit didn't have to see the bloodied outfit and gaping wounds. She released his arm, moving away to comfort Storm, leaving him to his solitary pain. There is nothing more I can do, she thought sadly.

How is she? Jean thought to Beast.

"She's sleeping deeply," he replied verbally, in a loud enough whisper that his voice carried to Gambit. "Possibly comatose. Her ribs are badly bruised. Three fractured, one seriously. Her head is bruised badly, as well as her back and upper legs. She's stable for the moment, but I don't know if or when she will regain consciousness. We can only hope." Beast nodded solemnly and left the room silently. Jean was surprised to see tears standing in his eyes as he passed by her.

"Cajun," Wolverine said harshly, his voice like death. "I want answers." He strode viciously over to Gambit. "What were you doing with that woman while this was happening to her?"

Jubilee snickered, anticipating a description of exactly what Gambit had been doing. Instead, he only turned his empty glowing eyes on Wolverine. "I din't know," he said softly.

The pained remark did nothing to ease Wolverine's anger. "Logan," Jean said soothingly, moving to put a hand on his tense arm. "We're all frightened and upset. Blaming Gambit won't help anything."

"Are you sayin' we just let him get away with it?" Wolverine growled indignantly. Angrily, he brushed Jean's hand off his arm and shoved by Jubilee on his way out the door. Jean's eyes remained on the closed door long after he'd passed through it, full of concern and compassion.

"It will be all right, Jean," Storm said gently. "He will forget his anger soon. It is not towards you or Gambit. He is disturbed by an opponent he cannot conquer. Rogue is threatened by an enemy he cannot attack. His helplessness is what angers him, not any of our actions. Given time to himself, he will realize this. Let him have that time."

"Thank you, Storm," Jean smiled a touch sadly. "Regardless, I doubt my presence is very comforting to him."

"Another evening like this, and when Professor and Cyke come back from their hush-hush diplomatic mission, they'll hardly recognize any of us," Jubilee remarked with a sniff. When Jean and Storm turned confused stares on her, she elaborated. "Rogue's in a coma, and Gambit looks half-dead. Beast's nervous about losing a patient and afraid he can't cure his friend. Wolvie's mad for no reason. Well, that's normal at least." With a shrug that was meant to say it didn't really matter. Jubilee turned and sauntered out of the room. The others never knew she collapsed on her bed and began sobbing like the child she was as soon as she reached the safety of her own room.

"Perhaps we should leave as well," Storm suggested softly with a pointed glance at Gambit. "She will not come to any further harm." Jean nodded her agreement, turning to leave. Storm followed silently, sending one last concerned glance back at Gambit before she closed the door.

The soft click of the shutting door barely registered on Gambit's deadened mind. His whole consciousness was taken up with the limp, pale form lying motionless before him. Tentatively, as if afraid she'd reject him even while unconscious, he reached out one hand, fingertips gently brushing her skin. Gently, delicately, he ran his fingers across her cheek, feeling her soft skin with bittersweet emotion. After loving her for so long, wanting to be able to touch her, when he finally could, it was due to tragedy. He wished he could explain to her that just being able to touch her cheek meant more to him than anything she'd seen between him and that blonde. That she was the only woman he'd ever felt this way about. That he loved her. How could he reassure her? Oh, God, what if he lost her? What would he do if she died?

No! He slammed his eyes shut against the thought, feeling a tear trickle down his face. She would be fine; she had to. Knowing she had slipped too far into oblivion to hear him, but needing to say the words to her anyway, Gambit began to murmur brokenly, his voice harsh with the tears he'd kept back while the others were here. "I sorry, chere. Never mean for you to get hurt. She mean nothin'. You said you don' want me, chere. How could I know?" He ended in a desperate, plaintive cry, begging for a pardon he feared he'd never get.

He brushed his finger over her face, removing his teardrops that marred her soft cheek. Gambit ran his hand down her cheek, into her hair, and across the back of her neck, feeling her artery pulsing weakly against his hand, proof she was alive, if just barely. "Please, chere, stay wit' me," he whispered. "I need you."

Having to admit he was dependent upon her was hard. But even though she never admitted feelings for or to anyone, he needed her fiery, determined presence. He loved watching her in motion, her beauty, grace, and spirit.

More tears came, dropping onto her pale face as he bowed his head over her. Gambit moved his hand back up onto her cheek, gently brushing away the teardrops. Her beautiful face shouldn't be degraded by his tears or the bandage on the wound across her temple. There was nothing he wanted more than to see her green eyes open, even if they were filled with venom towards him. He could bear her hatred, as long as she was alive.

The door clicked open, but he didn't even turn his head or try to hide his tears. It didn't matter who saw his grief and weakness. Nothing mattered.

"Gambit," came Jean's voice, soft, compassionate, sympathetic.

"I love her," he murmured, not caring what Jean thought. She'd seen his mind enough times to know. Why pretend to hide it? Nothing mattered until those green eyes opened and met his.

"Of course, Gambit," Jean agreed softly. "Storm wanted me to remind you her powers will return in a bit over four hours." She moved to stand by his side, one hand set gently on his shoulder.

"Can you reach her?" he asked, speaking to Jean without his eyes ever leaving Rogue's face.

"I'll try," she offered. She was pretty sure she couldn't, but it was all she could do for him. Jean closed her eyes and focused her mind. After a moment, she reopened them. "She's slipped beyond my reach. I can't feel anything beyond a vague presence and life-force. I'm sorry."

He shook his head slowly, not replying. His face held some indescribable pain and longing, and his eyes were dead, mirrors of his soul.

His mind was radiating such desperate guilt that she couldn't help but know his thoughts. "It's not your fault," she said in a soft, firm voice.

"No?" he replied bitterly. "Den whose fault is it, Jean? I de only one who caused dis, and I de one who pays." His acid anger melted away suddenly to reveal fear. "If she die..."

"She won't," Jean said firmly. "Beast will care for her. We won't let her go. We need her too much, all of us."

From the blank, forlorn look on his face, Jean knew nothing she said could reassure him. And no one could make him leave her side. With a gentle, firm resolve, Jean moved a chair over so he could sit by Rogue's sickbed. He didn't even notice, so she had to gently push him into the chair. His eyes remained morbidly fixed on Rogue's pale face. There's nothing I can do, Jean thought sadly, turning to go, glancing back once at Gambit's set, hopeless face. With a sigh, she shut the door, leaving him to his pain.

Four hours later

Gambit was still sitting by the comatose woman, eyes fixated on her pale, cold face. Hours ago, he had taken one of her cold hands in his, and now he raised it gently to his lips, kissing her hand briefly before setting it back down. "Stormy say your powers gonna come back soon, chere," he murmured. "Dis'll be my last chance now, maybe ever." Reaching his hand up to lightly brush his fingertips across her cheek, Gambit bent to softly kiss her, knowing the chance might never come again.

For the past several hours, he'd been cherishing every moment by her side, knowing she could slip away at any time. Somehow, he loved her more now that he was losing her than he ever had before. Never know what you've got till ya lose it. Every breath she took was so precious. When her heartbeat faltered, his own stopped for a second in fear. He was so afraid she'd die. If he lost her...

He couldn't even complete the thought. "Please, chere," he whispered. "Don' leave me." He couldn't bear to lose her. "I swear, I never knew I'd hurt you. I din't feel for her anythin' like I do for you. I love you, Rogue. Don' leave me, chere. Don' leave me."

Two hours later

Softly, so as not to disturb his grief, Storm entered the room where Rogue lay. Gambit was in a chair by her head, asleep. Poor thing. Of course he was exhausted, she thought in sympathy. It was some time a few hours before dawn, but Storm had risen from an uneasy sleep and decided to come check on them.

She could tell at a glance that Rogue remained unchanged. Gambit was keeping up his watch, refusing to leave her side. His face, even in sleep, was lined with worry, guilt, and fear. Confident Rogue would be as well cared for as was possible by her loving guardian, Storm silently slipped back out the door, wondering if Jean was awake yet. Though Storm was field leader in the absence of Charles and Scott, Jean tended to take charge of domestic matters.

Storm wandered down the vacant halls. Jean should be allowed to sleep after a late night of worry. A note left in the war room will suffice to alert the others of my purpose, she thought decisively. With a sharp nod, she changed her direction.

Upon arriving in the war room, she left a quick note. "Jean-I've gone to see Callisto and get the Leech. His powers are needed to permit Beast to treat Rogue. The Leech and I shall return. -Storm"

Satisfied that the others would be advised of her departure, Storm left the mansion and began her pre-dawn flight, the same one she'd taken twice yesterday, alone and then with Rogue. Somehow it was different now. There was a feel of heaviness to the air, generated by the sense of tragedy weighing down her soul. In some way, this was her fault. She had not known what she was sending Rogue into, but ignorance was no excuse. Her guilt was lessened by the knowledge that her actions had helped Jean find and save Rogue. She knew Gambit had no such consolation.

The cold, heavy air rushed by Storm as she sped on her flight to the Morlocks.

Three hours later

Beast rose early, still anxious. He'd slept well except for the nightmares plaguing him. His patient's condition was the first thing on his mind. He had to consider Rogue as a patient instead of a friend. Beast, even more than the others, had to keep his emotions under control, remain objective. He couldn't afford to let his grief and concern cloud his mind and impair his skills.

Moving with a quiet grace that seemed at odds with his large, bestial form, he entered the infirmary, wishing to check on his patient before beginning his day. Gambit slept by her bedside in a position he'd probably kept since exhaustion had claimed him. Beast moved to stand across from his patient's guard. Her breath came in shallow gasps that obviously pained her damaged ribs. Her pulse beat in her throat, even more weakly than it had the night before. Her color was very poor, her pale face turning a shade gray.

Icicles of fear stabbed at his heart, even through his clinical detachment. She was fading. Not quickly, but steadily. When I come for her on the morrow, will I find her cold and stiff? he wondered sadly. As a doctor, it was heart-breaking to lose a patient. But as a friend, it was completely devastating. He wasn't sure the group was prepared to handle this loss.

Gambit surely wasn't. One look at his desperate, grief-stricken face told Beast he wouldn't take it well when she died. Some form of mind-numbing will be needed to dull the first stabs of grief, Beast thought. I must speak to Jean about that when she awakes. If only Xavier were here. Tragedies always strike in the Professor's absence.

Beast moved softly out of the room, wondering about the problem Rogue's powers presented to her treatment. Contemplating this, he wandered through the war room, noticing with a touch of surprise a note left where it was designed to catch the eye. My, we have an early riser today, he thought with as much of a smile as he could manage. Beast moved over and picked it up.

The note was addressed to Jean, but having been left in the war room, it wasn't private, and the writing was Storm's. With a bit of curiosity, Beast read the brief note.

She seems to be anticipating me again, he thought with a smile. How long ago did she leave? How soon will she return? Rogue needs me as soon as possible. Not that he was sure it would help, but he couldn't let her go without a fight. Rogue was a fighter, and she had to go out with a struggle. Beast felt he owed at least that much to his friend. A final favor, the only thing he could do for her now.

Beast turned away, setting Storm's note back where he had found it, heading aimlessly away, tears standing in his eyes and trickling onto his blue, furry cheeks.

Fifteen minutes later

Storm landed neatly before the mansion, deftly depositing the Leech on his feet. "Thank you for coming, my friend," she said simply. "I know it was a sacrifice to leave your home."

"I shall do whatever you desire, lady Storm," the Leech replied with a slight nod of respect.

With a slightly amused smile at his child-like adoration, Storm led her guest into the mansion, going directly to the room where Rogue and Gambit slept. "Leech, my friend is in here, and she needs her powers removed again. We must be quiet so we do not wake the one who watches her."

"Of course, lady Storm," he replied in a whisper.

With another smile of amusement, she slid open the door and slipped into the room, the Leech close on her heels. The two unconscious forms remained where they had been three hours ago. Gambit had restlessly tossed about a bit, but Rogue lay as one dead. That phrase was a bit too possible for Storm's liking.

"The woman, lady Storm?" the Leech whispered tentatively, tugging at her sleeve.

"Yes, Leech," she murmured. "The woman whose powers you removed yesterday."

The Leech nodded and moved with exaggerated care to where he could stare intently upon her pale, graying face. "It is done, lady Storm," he announced quietly.

"Thank you, Leech," Storm said softly. "We must find Beast now so he can care for her."

The Leech nodded and stood where he was, waiting to follow her from the room.

Ten minutes later

"Gambit," Storm's voice gently floated through the fog of his sleep. Wearily, he opened his eyes, meeting hers, seeing the soft blue clouded with worry and reddened from lack of sleep. "I'm sorry to wake you, but you must move to allow Beast room to care for her."

His body stiff from a restless night's sleep in an awkward position, Gambit rose to his feet, seeing Beast standing a polite distance away. As Gambit and Storm moved away, he came to Rogue's side, gently removing the bandage on her head. "Not as deep as I had thought," he mused. "It will heal nicely. I can't guarantee the absence of a scar, but her hair will cover it." Beast's absent, soothing talk seemed too light, too casual. He was covering something. What you trying to hide from me, Hank? Gambit thought, half angry, half frightened.

Beast gently put a fresh bandage on the head wound and pulled the sheets down. In respect for Rogue's privacy, Storm gently drew Gambit into the side room Jean had taken him to the day before. As she guided him in and moved him to a seat, Storm turned back and gestured to someone Gambit hadn't noticed before. A small, strange man came in, obviously a mutant.

"Gambit," Storm said calmly as she shut the door behind the other man. "This is the Leech, one of the Morlocks. He removed Rogue's powers at my request yesterday and again this morning to permit Beast to care for her. He shall be staying with us for as long as Rogue's condition continues to require care."

Gambit nodded vaguely in recognition of the introduction, his mind on Beast and Storm's word choices. He knew neither of them would lie to him, but they weren't beyond misleading phrasing. Beast had said her hair would cover any scars, but he hadn't added anything about her recovery. And Storm had said the Leech would remain as long as Rogue needs care, not till she recovers. But that didn't mean they expected her not to recover. It couldn't. She had to wake up. She had to live.

"Lady Storm," the Leech said hesitantly, his formal tone surprising Gambit a bit though Storm seemed used to it. "Lady Storm," he repeated. "Are you upset with me?"

"No, Leech," she replied firmly with a touch of surprise. "Why would I be?"

"Well," he said softly, looking down, "I removed the powers from your friend, and she was hurt because she didn't have them."

"Leech, no one blames you," Storm repeated. "If anyone is to blame, it is I." Gambit jerked his head up suddenly to protest, but she cut him off. "No, Gambit. It was my idea to have the Leech remove her powers, so the fault is mine."

"Stormy, you ain't to blame. I'm de one who chased her to de Danger Room," he protested wearily. "You were jus' tryin' to help us. It not your fault; it mine."

Storm shook her head in denial, but one look at Gambit's hopeless face told her that nothing she could say would change his mind. He was convinced he was killing her. It's fair I take de blame, Gambit thought. I lose de most if she dies, and I don' want to hate the others for dis. If she don' recover, I can only hate me, and dat's how it should be.

The door to the room quietly swung open, and Beast's furry face peered in. "Storm, Gambit, Leech," he said, nodding politely at each. "I have finished my examination."

"How is she?" Storm asked quickly, starting to rise from her chair.

"If we're going to talk, we should stay in here so we don't disturb her," Beast said, coming to sit as well. "The head injury, as I said, will heal well. The cracked ribs aren't doing as nicely as I'd like, and the wound on her side is a bit wide. Care must be taken to prevent infection."

Storm nodded gravely, accepting this calmly. Hank, you're still not tellin' me sometin', Gambit thought. His eyes were hard with the thought of what that might be. The Leech sat motionless but for the constant flicking of his eyes from one face to another. "Lady Storm," he began quietly. "What should I call him?"

"Beast?" she asked. "You may call him Hank, or Dr. McCoy if you prefer."

The Leech nodded. "Thank you, lady Storm." He turned his serious gaze on Beast. "Dr. McCoy, sir, when will the lady wake up?" he asked plaintively.

"I can't tell, Leech," Beast admitted sadly. "But we must hope for the best always."

Gravely, the Leech nodded, his eyes slightly unfocused with thought. After a moment, he spoke again. "Dr. McCoy, lady Storm, what happens if she doesn't wake up?"

Beast had no answer, but his eyes filled with fear. Storm as well was at a loss for words. "If she die, we bury her," Gambit replied, trying to remain hard and uncaring. The Leech, like a confused child, looked seriously into Gambit's face, trying to understand, and the cajun had to look away. "If she die, my heart go wit' her," he murmured, voice thick with swallowed tears.

The Leech's big, innocent eyes blinked with confusion. He turned his open look on Storm. "Lady Storm," he said softly. "I don't understand."

"It is a complicated situation, my friend," Beast replied gently. "I'm afraid we can't explain what we don't understand well ourselves."

Without another word, Gambit rose and went back to keep watch over Rogue. As soon as he had left, Storm rose to gently shut the door behind him. "Be honest with me, my friend," she said to Beast. "Will she recover?"

"I really can't say," he murmured, but the hopeless look in his eyes gave Storm the only answer she needed.

"How will we explain her loss to Xavier when he returns?" Storm asked sadly. "He'll be so heart-broken to lose another of his 'children'."

"We all will," Beast agreed softly with a meaningful glance at the chair Gambit had vacated.

"What can we do with him when she dies?" Storm asked, admitting it seemed a certainty.

Beast simply shook his head hopelessly, unable to answer. He didn't know how he'd survive watching her die without being able to help. "Tomorrow," he whispered hoarsely, burying his face in his hands.

"What?" Storm asked, glancing up at him.

"She won't last through tomorrow," he explained in a choked voice. "And there's nothing I can do to stop it. She's going to die."

"Beast," Storm said gently, moving to his side. She put one comforting hand on his bowed shoulder. "You cannot blame yourself. You've done all you can."

"But it's not enough," he said desperately. "I can't save her."

"You tried. We can ask no more of you. If she dies, it is not your fault."

He shook his head slowly, wanting to argue but unable to speak around the tears choking his throat.

With wide, teary eyes, the Leech watched lady Storm comfort the doctor, tears in both their eyes. Bad, he thought sadly. Very bad.

Three hours later

Gambit sat by her side, one pale hand clasped tightly between both of his as if he could hold onto her and keep death at bay. Beast had left long ago, Storm and the Leech following closely. He didn't know how long ago; time didn't matter. Nothing did but keeping her here.

His eyes were fixed on her face, the weak flutter of a pulse in her throat, the slow rise and fall of her chest with her shallow breaths. His mind had gone numb. He knew, despite Beast's calm mask, that she was dying, but his thoughts shied away from the idea. The pain in his heart was so great he couldn't even cry for her any more. He could only sit and wait for the end.

No! Something in his mind woke suddenly and screamed against it. He wouldn't let her go. He couldn't lose the only woman he'd ever truly loved. Life couldn't be that cruel. Take away her love, if I ever had it, he thought to the powers that be. Let her hate me, but she can't die. He could accept anything. As long as she lived.

He could love her from afar, thaw her heart out again as he had before. It might take time; she might never forget this or forgive him his part in it. It didn't matter. He wanted her recovery, even if it came without her love.

"Chere," he whispered, one hand moving up to touch her face. "I'm so sorry. I never mean dis 'appen, chere. You de only one I love." A tear moved down one cheek, and he'd been so sure he couldn't cry any more. If only she could hear him, could forgive him. If she had to die, he didn't want the blame on his conscience.

A part of his mind recoiled from that. Who else do I blame? he asked himself acidly. Forgiveness? I don' wan' her forgiveness; I wan' her life. I need Rogue to live, to love me again if she can. But love don' matter so much. She has to live.

His mind was caught in hopeless circles of despair and contradiction, running over and over the same thoughts, trying to deny that he was losing the woman he loved with no one to blame but himself.

An hour later

Silently, the Leech entered the room where the hurt lady slept, creeping noiselessly so her watcher wasn't bothered. The Leech had just come to look again at this woman whose pain so upset the doctor and beautiful lady Storm.

The hurt lady lay as before, pale and unmoving. Her silent guardian wouldn't leave her side, even to eat. He didn't even know the Leech was here. When the lady dies, it will be very bad for him, the Leech thought firmly. He should not lose her.

Sadly, the Leech turned to go, leaving the watcher to his sorrow. The door clicked when he opened it, and the grief-stricken man turned and saw the Leech. The dead pain in his eyes made the Leech feel the need to say something. "Her powers will come back within an hour," he said softly. The quiet man nodded and turned his empty gaze back to the pale lady.

He said his heart will die with her, the Leech recalled. Maybe it's true. The guardian seemed as weak and pale as the sleeping lady he watched. Should I tell lady Storm that the man is in bad shape? the Leech wondered. She probably knows, but I will tell her anyway; this is important.

The Leech left the room, going to find lady Storm, to comfort her, to help her let her friend go. The doctor was helping, but the Leech needed to help her as well, for his sake and hers.

This is very bad for all of them, he thought with a sad sigh. Very bad.

Half an hour later

"Chere, please stay wit me," Gambit whispered brokenly, one hand on her neck, feeling her weak, fading pulse. "Don' leave me. Chere, I need you. Wit'out you, I'm de heartless man I use to be. Rogue, you change me. I neve' knew I could be like dis. No one would eve' b'lieve I love a woman I can't touch. But, chere, I do love you. An' I need you here. Don' leave me, Rogue. I don' know what I do wit'out you."

He felt her pulse falter, and his heart stopped for a moment, too. But her blood continued to flow, sluggish but steady. "Jus' hold on, chere. Stay wit' me," he murmured, bending down to embrace her as if his grip alone could hold back the relentless hand of death.

Knowing her powers were going to return soon and that she could die before morning, Gambit again gave her one last kiss, trying to savor her sweetness so he'd never forget her love. He kept his lips pressed to hers for one eternal moment, then pulled away with tears in his eyes. He had another ten minutes that he knew beyond a doubt were safe. His last ten minutes with her. After that, he would stay by her side, but he couldn't touch her to reassure her that she wasn't alone, that his love was always with her, no matter what.

Meanwhile

There was a soft knock at the door to Jean's room. She sent a soft mental probe. "Come in, Leech," she said gently. The door opened, and he entered, looking very disturbed.

"Leech, what's wrong?" Storm asked, rising and going to him.

"Lady Storm, I went to see the hurt lady," he said softly. "The man watching her looks so sad. Will he be all right when she dies?"

"Oh, Leech," Storm whispered sadly. "I wish I knew."

"He loves her," Jean said. "That will make it much harder for him even than for us. Her powers have made it impossible for them to have a normal relationship. He will feel the chance for her love was taken from him unfairly. I have felt Scott's mind concerning my supposed death years ago, and I know it is no easy thing to accept. I will watch his mind and try to soothe him in any way I can. There is no more we can do."

"Thank you, lovely Jean," the Leech murmured. "He looks so sad," he added wistfully. "Are there others close to her?"

"Wolverine and Jubilee are not as close to her as Storm and Gambit, but they will feel her loss more than they care to admit," Beast said softly.

"Why are they alone?" the Leech asked. "Grief should be shared."

"It is their way to be alone, Leech," Jean replied sadly. "Both have borne enough grief that they feel they can handle it alone."

The Leech nodded thoughtfully and left the room again. Perplexed by his actions, Storm returned to her chair. "His mind is like a child's," Jean mused. "There are so many things he can't understand."

"What mortal can understand death?" Beast asked philosophically.

"Or love," Storm added.

Fifteen minutes later

The Leech had been wandering the mansion, knocking on every closed door he came to. The proud ones need to know that lady Storm, the doctor, and Lovely Jean wish to comfort them, he thought. Lovely Jean must care something about them. She sounded so sad. The hurt lady is the proud ones' friend, too. They need to know.

Mechanically, the Leech continued knocking on doors. "Who's there?" came a female voice from one room. The voice was sad but hard, as if she wished to hide that she had been crying. Why should crying for her friend ashame her? The others cry, and they are not ashamed. "Who is it?" the voice repeated, tougher yet.

"I am the Leech," he replied softly. "May I talk with you?"

"The Leech?" the girl repeated confused. The door swung open to reveal her to the Leech's curious eyes. "Oh, right, Storm's pet Morlock. Whatcha want?"

"May I talk with you?" he repeated, wide eyes studying her. She was so young, but her face and voice were very hard and uncaring. Her eyes, in contrast, were soft and hurt. The Leech stared deeply into those eyes, trying to understand her.

The girl looked down at the floor and gestured him in, unable to withstand that innocent gaze for any longer. "What ya wanna talk about?" she asked, closing the door behind him and seating herself on her bed.

"What may I call you?" the Leech asked, studying her face.

"Huh?" she asked.

"I need to know who you are," he explained carefully.

"I guess we weren't actually introduced, huh? The name's Jubilee," she answered. The Leech continued to stare into her eyes. How strange that she looks so sad when her name is happiness, he thought, eyes locked on hers. "Now, can we get on with it?" SadJoy asked him.

"Of course. I went with lady Storm to watch Doctor McCoy look at the hurt lady," the Leech began softly. "Dr. McCoy says the hurt lady is not getting well." When the girl didn't speak, he clarified. "Ever."

"So?" she asked. "That's yesterday's news. Anything else?"

"From the way lady Storm and the watcher took it, I thought you would want to know," he said, confused and hurt by her reception.

"The others all knew yesterday, too," Jubilee shrugged. "It's not my fault I'm the only one who admitted it then. Anything else?"

He stared again at her eyes. They confused him, being so at odds with her face and words. "The others bear this pain together," he said softly. "You should be with them."

"Why?" she asked cuttingly. "So I can snivel with 'em all 'bout the 'good times' and letting go? No thanks! I'm fine on my own."

Her face was rock hard, but those eyes grew sadder and sadder by the minute. Perplexed, the Leech continued to stare at them. Why does she not say what she feels? The watcher did not either, at least, not at first. Will SadJoy speak her true heart eventually, too? I wish I understood.

"You hurt, too," he stated sympathetically. "Why do you not share that hurt? It is easier together."

"I'm fine," SadJoy said harshly, but her eyes said differently. Wordlessly, the Leech shook his head in disagreement. "Listen, you don't understand a thing 'bout me. Just get out. Go lecture someone else. I don't need it."

You do, but I cannot help if you don't wish it, he thought sadly as he turned and left.

Meanwhile

Gambit hadn't moved, but his thoughts had raced across the globe, at the same time never leaving Rogue and his love for her. He wanted so much to hold her hand, to feel her pulse, to touch her and reassure her he hadn't abandoned her. To let her know he'd never leave her. I don' know for certain her powers came back yet, he thought. It can't hurt much t' risk one touch.

Gambit, no! came Jean's voice sternly in his mind.

Why, chere? he thought back bitterly. Why you keepin' tabs on me constantly? What furder harm you tink I can do her now?

It's not that Gambit, Jean replied gently. My concern is for you. If your powers, memories, and consciousness are in her when she dies, we cannot be sure that your mind will be returned to you.

Right now, chere, I don' care, his thought came back to her.

We do, Jean thought firmly, and he could sense Storm's thought being sent along with it, feel her calm presence full of pain. Remy, my friend. It was obviously Storm's thoughts Jean sent now. If you cannot think about yourself now, think about us. The team cannot handle one loss well, but if your mind is lost with Rogue, it will destroy us.

Fine, Stormy, he thought with tears in his eyes. Fo' you an' de others, I won' touch her.

Thank you, Storm thought. Then Jean's presence was gone from his mind, and Storm with it. He was left alone to his silent vigil, his deathwatch.

Five minutes later

After being so forcibly turned away by SadJoy, the Leech stood for a moment, considering if he should continue his search for the other proud one. If the other didn't wish his help either, what good could he do? No, he told himself. I must tell him anyway. Even if he won't say he cares. I will find him anyway.

The Leech resumed his wandering trek down empty hallways, knocking on closed doors.

Meanwhile

Wolverine was in the Danger Room, trying to work off a little nervous energy. Claws extended, he leapt at the cluster of androids facing him, shredding one with each hand while still in the air. Landing, he whirled and slashed another. "You're killing her," he growled at them, dragging his claws deliberately across the nearest android's face and smiling grimly as the watched the features shred before the hologram faded. He turned to another and continued the tirade. "Her life was worth less to you than a one-night stand, just 'cause you got horny and decided you can't wait for her." Snarling, he blocked the robot's staff, sticking the claws on his other hand into its gut and ripping upwards.

A card from another android hit his back. Wolverine whirled and cut his claws through the man, before his arm had even complete the motion of throwing. The remaining four closed into a ring around Wolverine. Two had cards; two had staves. Even split, he thought humorlessly. I'll split you.

In a matter of minutes, he'd cut down the four remaining androids and was standing alone on the Danger Room floor, surrounded by mangled equipment. Cutting up the robots had felt good, but the anger still burned inside him. The others could actually pretend the hologram-cloaked robots were real, but Wolverine never quite escaped the truth. His heightened senses could always smell the metal underneath.

There was a soft knock at the Danger Room door. Slightly bemused at the thought of anyone knocking, Wolverine walked to the keypad, sheathing his claws. He keyed the sequence to open the door, and it slowly slid aside, revealing the Morlock Storm had brought. "Yeah?" Wolverine asked.

"The doctor said the hurt lady is going to die," the Leech said softly, intimidated by Wolverine's dark scowl. "Lovely Jean and lady Storm are very upset. You care about the hurt lady, too. I maybe thought you should be told."

"Thanks," Wolverine said tightly, trying to keep his rage in check so he didn't snap on the poor kid. He began keying the sequence to close the door again.

"What should I call you?" the Leech asked hesitantly.

"Anything ya want." The door slid shut. "Computer! Repeat training sequence," he shouted.

Ten more hologram-cloaked androids appeared. Wolverine's claws slid out. Face set in a furious snarl, he leaped at them, disabling five in as many minutes. "Computer, end program," he said, disgusted. Slashing Gambit's image didn't do Rogue any good. And he could hardly enjoy this vengeance. Defeating the Danger Room program that had nearly killed her didn't bring her back or punish the guilty. Sophisticated at the program was, it was only a machine.

Ever since Jean had told them Rogue was in danger, he'd had this nagging feeling of guilt. Not that he was responsible; it was as if there was a way to save her, some easy solution he was overlooking. His dreams the previous night had all been full of old memories, as if his mind was searching for the key that was buried somewhere among them. But where? Rogue, badly injured, and he was the only one who could help. Something in his subconscious told him he could fix it if he only knew how. It was something about her powers. Or his. Or...

Then it hit him. Everything fell into place and he remembered. "Where'd the Morlock say Beast was?" he muttered to himself. "Always consult the physician first."

Five minutes later

Rogue's shallow irregular breathing faltered for a second. She was so weak and pale. "Chere," he whispered, voice full of grief. Over the past half hour, as her pulse had slowed and her skin had turned grayish, Gambit had felt his heart breaking. "Rogue, I need you. You're leavin' me, an' I don' know what t' do wit'out you." He was past tears now, past hope of her recovery. She was gone. And he didn't know how he could find the strength to live without her.

How could he live with her death? He'd been responsible for the death of a woman who loved and trusted him once long ago. But this was different. He actually loved Rogue; he wasn't sure he had truly loved anyone this strongly before. And he was killing her. As her breaths slowed, he couldn't help but envision his hand around her heart, crushing the life out of her body.

"Chere, I'm sorry," he said brokenly. He knew it was little consolation, but it was all he could offer her now.

Half an hour later

"Lady Storm," the Leech began timidly, softly touching her arm. "Why does SadJoy not admit to her pain? The angry one does not choose to share his, but he doesn't try to hide it. Why must SadJoy?"

"SadJoy, Leech?" Storm asked, confused.

"I went to find the proud ones to tell them the hurt lady wouldn't wake up," he admitted guiltily. "Please don't be mad. I thought they should know."

"You did no wrong, Leech. They should be told," she agreed sadly. "But what do you mean by SadJoy?"

"The girl," he said. "She said her name was joy, but her eyes were so sad. Why didn't she say she is hurting, as you and Lovely Jean and the doctor have?"

"Jubilee," Storm said, understanding. "Expressing emotions is difficult for her. She feels she needs to keep people away."

"I still don't understand," he murmured sullenly.

"If you could understand Jubilee, you would be a step ahead of the rest of us," Jean replied regretfully.

"My poor little Morlock, thrown into the midst of our chaos and grief," Storm smiled sadly. "If you do not understand our ways, it is no cause for alarm. We are not ourselves now. Tragedy brings out very strange parts of people."

"Even with my window to the mind, I am hard-pressed to understand these reactions," Jean added comfortingly.

"Lovely Jean, if the angry one admits he cares for the dying lady, why does he stay alone?" the Leech asked, turning his innocent, bewildered gaze on her.

"Leech, our presence, mine in particular, is not always comforting to him," she admitted, pained. "Logan has spent so much time alone that he cannot cope any other way."

"But, Lovely Jean, doesn't he find you kind and soothing?" the Leech asked, confused. "The doctor and lady Storm seem to like you. Why doesn't he?"

"He does care for me, Leech," she said softly. "Too much at times." Quietly, she lowered her head. With Xavier and Cyclops gone, Storm was in charge of the team, but Jean felt responsible for the group, for their emotional state. I've failed them terribly, she thought sadly. I should have sensed this and somehow prevented it. The Professor trusted me to watch over the minds and emotions of the group in his absence. When does necessity override privacy? If I had been more aware of the tension building, I could have stopped this. It would have meant invading Rogue's mind, but isn't her life worth more? If I had been more willing to check up on my teammates, Rogue might be in good health. As it is, she won't last till tomorrow. I have failed in my duties. Oh, Charles, why did you leave us when we need you most?

An hour later

"Hank, you in there?" Wolverine asked, knocking on the door to Beast's lab. It was really a rhetorical question; the computer had verified the location.

"Enter," Beast said softly. Wolverine swung the door open and moved to sit in a vacant chair.

Beast, glasses on forehead, arms folded, hung from a ceiling pipe. "Walt Whitman best expressed this feeling," he murmured. "'O cruel hands that hold me powerless, O helpless soul of me!' I cannot save her, Logan."

"Don't sweat it, Hank," Wolverine replied calmly. "I can."

"Can what?" Beast asked absently.

"Keep Rogue alive," Wolverine answered.

Interest sparked, Beast flipped down from the pipe. "How?"

"Well, Hank," he began. "I had this nagging feeling I was over-looking something. Then it hit me. Healing Rogue is easy. She's got her powers back, right? So she absorbs mine."

"Ingenious," Beast murmured. "I believe that would work. You do understand there's an element of risk to this proposition. If Rogue dies before your powers heal her, your psyche likely goes with her."

"I'm a gambler," he shrugged, unconcerned. "Offer death a double or nothing with an ace up my sleeve. Speaking of which, the cajun's gotta be asleep when we do this. Will she hold on till evening?"

"You wish this to be anonymous?" Beast asked, a touch surprised.

"Let it be a miraculous recovery, Hank. The team needs a little more faith."

"Of course," he nodded. "Rogue is a fighter, strong in body and spirit. I believe we can wait a few hours. That will also give you time to consider your decision. As I said, there is danger involved."

"Our life is full of danger; what's a little more?" Wolverine asked, standing and leaving the room. "All for a good cause."

Four hours later

Beast stood in the hall outside the infirmary. He had been making hourly checks on Rogue and Gambit and was beginning to get disturbed. His patient was fading fast, and her guardian showed no signs of sleep. Wolverine doesn't want any one else knowing, but the situation is becoming dire, Beast thought, gravely concerned. If he is aware of the danger, perhaps he'll let me approach Jean about this.

Fifteen minutes later

"Beast, you can't tell her," Wolverine said coldly. "Only reason I told you was 'cause somebody's gotta carry me to my room when I collapse. Figured you could handle me, metal and all. 'Sides which, you're the doc, after all. But no one else needs to know."

"I respect your wish for secrecy," Beast began, "but she is dying! Logan, another two hours, and she'll be gone. I can't afford to wait!"

"If the cajun ain't out in an hour and a half, I'll consider it," Wolverine replied. "But you don't tell Red."

Thirty minutes later

I don't care what he says, Beast thought angrily. I can wait no longer. His stubborn pride is not worth Rogue's life! Now that I know she can be saved, I will wait powerless no longer. With this, Beast stood decisively and began walking to Jean's room.

Meanwhile

"Storm," Jean said hesitantly, "would you show the Leech to an empty room? I'm sure he wishes to see his quarters."

"I don't mind, Lovely Jean," he replied innocently.

"Please, Leech," Jean said with a soft smile, "I wish a few moments alone."

"Oh," the Leech said, embarrassed, "I'll go then."

"Thank you," she smiled, bittersweet and wistful.

"Of course, Lovely Jean."

"Come, Leech," Storms said, rising. "I shall take you to your room." He nodded and followed her. As she walked out the door, Storm turned back, wishing to instill some parting word of comfort. But her words failed her, and she left in silence, feeling alone and helpless.

Jean watched her go, feeling the silence close in around her. If the Professor was here, he'd be telepathically calming and reassuring the them. I haven't mastered his control yet. If I send my thoughts to comfort them, I'll only upset things further. She knew her own mind was filled with such a whirling maelstrom of emotions that if she imposed this on anyone else, it would destroy what little control the person had over things.

Jean felt a concerned, tentatively hopeful mind approaching nervously. Curious, she probed a little further. Beast. His patient, his friend was dying; what could give him hope at a time like this? She was debating about searching his thoughts for further understanding, but he knocked on her door.

"Come in, Beast," she called softly.

He entered and sat in the chair Storm had just vacated. "Jean," he began dubiously. "I require a favor of you. However, I am afraid I can provide little information or explanation. I can only assure you it is of the utmost importance."

"What is this 'favor', Hank?" she asked, sufficiently interested.

"Can you make Gambit fall asleep?" he asked, trying to remain calm and cordial. The edge of urgency pressing at her mind added to her curiosity.

"This is a strange request," she mused. "You can't explain?"

"No," he sighed, shaking his head. "The situation is quite...delicate. I also must ask that, if you do this, you won't mention it to the others. I can't tell you anything further. I can only implore you to take my word on this. It is, quite literally, a matter of life and death."

"Naturally, I'm hesitant to use my powers without reason," she said. The intense fear and concern that hit her mind overwhelmed her. This uncontrolled emotion was coming from Beast? "But for you, I will, this once. Besides, the rest may do him good."

"Thank you, Jean," he smiled, very relieved.

Jean closed her eyes, face smoothing in peaceful concentration. After a moment, she re-opened them and focused back on her surroundings. "It is done."

"Excellent," he smiled, standing. "I'm afraid I must leave now."

Jean nodded agreement. "Of course. I hope it helps."

"Oh, it will," he assured her, leaving the room. "Thank you."

Five minutes later

"Wolverine, it appears my fears were unfounded," Beast confessed, features schooled into contrite calmness. "He's asleep."

"Good," Wolverine nodded, rising and leaving his room. As he walked to the infirmary, his movements were tight and controlled, a hunter deliberately entering a potentially dangerous situation, fully aware of the risk and willing to take it. He reached the infirmary door and entered, forcibly, not slowing. He stopped by Rogue's bedside, on the opposite side from Gambit. Then he paused, slightly unsure.

"You can't even tell her that I did this," he said.

"I don't see why," Beast said, stopping as Wolverine's face tightened stubbornly. "I won't. If you choose to, fine, but I won't."

"Don't scare the girl," he added. "Don't tell her how close to death she was. It'll only upset her."

"I agree," Beast nodded. "She should not know."

"Right." Wolverine looked down at Rogue's pale face, a look of care crossing his eyes. "Sleep well," he murmured. "Hope my memories don't give you my nightmares." Calmly, he reached down, setting his bare hand on her face. His energy raced into her, and he collapsed, Beast moving to catch him before he hit the floor.

"A valiant sacrifice, my friend," Beast said, heaving Wolverine's limp form over one shoulder. "I truly hope it doesn't cost you more than you can pay."

Moments later

As Wolverine's energy began flowing through her, Rogue's pulse grew stronger, her breath became steady, and the flesh and bone of her wounds began to knit back together. Slowly, silently, the life returned to her body.

Two hours later

Groggily, Wolverine opened his eyes. Why'm I awake? he wondered. Then he remembered everything. If my mind came back, it means she's still alive. Good enough. Satisfied, he rolled over and fell back asleep.

The next morning

Beast rose rather early and went immediately to find the Leech. In order to keep Wolverine's aid secret, he had resisted the temptation to check on her in the middle of the night. But now it was time for his morning examination of her, so he could see if it had worked without giving away anything. He arrived at the door to Storm's room and stopped, standing outside it for a moment to compose himself. He couldn't let her see that he was more hopeful than he had been yesterday. Calm at last, he knocked softly on her door, not wanting to wake her.

Slowly the door swung open. "Beast," she acknowledged with a slight nod. "What do you need?" Fear came into her pale blue eyes. She was afraid he was here to break the news to her.

"I require the Leech's aid," he explained softly. "Where is he?'

"I will get him for you," she said, relieved but painfully aware it was only a postponement. The news would come eventually.

Minutes later

Storm knocked firmly on the Leech's door. "Leech," she called, "it is Storm. Dr. McCoy needs your help."

The door opened immediately. "Of course, lady Storm," he said. "I will come."

"Good," she murmured, turning and leading him to where Beast waited.

Meanwhile

As Beast stood outside Storm's door, he contemplated how best to handle the situation. As her doctor, he had to be able to provide an explanation for this miraculous recovery. If it really had occurred. In theory, Wolverine should have saved her life, but it was conjecture only. If something had gone wrong, Rogue would be dead and Logan comatose.

This sobering thought was well-timed. A concerned look crossed Beast's face just as Storm approached with the Leech. Quickly, he controlled his thoughts and expression. "Shall we go?" he asked dejectedly as they neared him.

"Yes, of course," Storm agreed listlessly. It was obvious she was afraid of what they'd find but too kind to let him face it alone. Beast turned and slowly led the way to the infirmary, trying to contain his anticipation. When he reached the door, he stopped and motioned for Storm and the Leech to remain quiet. Then he quietly opened the door and slid into the room.

He gave a cursory glance to Gambit, collapsed by Rogue's head as he had been when Beast and Wolverine had come through last night. Eager but hesitant, he turned his eyes to his patient. "Stars and garters," he whispered in awe. It worked! Her skin was still a little pale, but the sickly gray tinge had left her face. Her color was back and her breathing was steady, no longer rasping and faltering. "Leech," he murmured eagerly, "please remove her powers."

"It is done," the Morlock replied after a second.

"Excellent. Thank you." Beast rushed over to stand on Rogue's right side.

"What about Gambit?" Storm asked.

"Let him sleep," Beast replied. "She does not appear to be in serious danger any longer. He needs the rest." Gently, Beast removed the bandage on Rogue's forehead. The wound had healed completely, leaving not even a scar.

Storm and the Leech withdrew into the small waiting room. She went quietly, but her gaze towards Beast was strange. Beast hardly noticed. He continued examining Rogue, growing more and more impressed by Wolverine's healing ability. All of her open cuts were healed beautifully. The bruises were gone, and her concussion had been cared for as well. It wouldn't keep her unconscious for much longer. The only thing that hadn't healed perfectly was her ribcage. The bruised ribs were fine, and the cracked ones had fused back together. They were whole, but one in particular would still be a little tender. Hardly a steep price to pay for such foolishness.

Examination finished, he went quietly into the room where Storm and her Morlock waited. "How is she?" Storm asked as he shut the door.

Beast shook his head in feigned amazement, supposedly bewildered by this finding. "A miraculous recovery," he said reverently. "Overnight, she healed almost completely. From death's doorstep to a couple of bruised ribs. I have no medical explanation for it, but she will live."

"The hurt lady isn't dying anymore?" the Leech asked, perplexed by this sudden reversal.

"No, Leech," Storm replied kindly, her voice ringing with joy. "She will live." She turned to Beast. "Shall we wake Gambit and tell him the good news?"

"I have a better idea," Beast countered with a toothy grin.

A few minutes later

Gambit woke to a hand softly shaking his shoulder. He opened his eyes to see Beast's concerned face. "How is she?" he asked hesitantly, unsure of what he was reading in that face.

"She lives," Beast replied tonelessly. "The Leech has removed her powers. They will return in a bit over five hours. We'll leave you with her now."

Gambit saw Storm and the Leech standing by the door to the hall, waiting to leave with Beast. "Thank you, mon ami," he murmured. "I let you know, if..., when..." His words trailed off, unwilling to voice the unthinkable truth.

Beast nodded kindly, his face set in a mask of compassion, his eyes a mystery. Slowly, he turned away, and they left in silence. Desperately, his eyes sought out Rogue's face, so delicate, so beautiful. How can I lose her? Lovingly, he set one hand on her cheek, running his fingers down along her jawline. Softly, he brushed his fingertips across her lips, feeling her soft breath. "Rogue," he whispered in pain. Her name, nothing more, that one word filled with more anguish and heartbreak than a mortal should have to bear.

Beast's reports had been so vague, but to Gambit they were the voice of doom. Her time was very limited. And they'd all left her so he could share her last precious moments alone. Oh, Rogue, he thought desperately, you're gonna die wit'out ever knowin' how much I love you. "Chere, I don' know if you can hear dis, but I need t' tell you anyway. I do love you," he murmured.

She didn't even move, too far gone to be reached by even the most intense of loves. No, she wasn't gone yet. There was still one thing more to try, one way he might reach her, convince her of his love before she left him. He had to try.

Slowly, tentatively, he placed one hand on her neck and leaned down to kiss her, gently, sweetly, trying desperately to show her he cared, to force his love through the barrier that held her from him. He'd have sworn her lips moved against his. But she's dyin', he thought, starting to back off. Maybe I'm jus' goin' out of my mind.

Just as his lips parted from hers, a hand landed on the back of his neck, pulling him back down into the kiss. I don' care if I am crazy. Dey can lock me up wit' dis delusion, an' I won' mind at all. Convinced he'd taken leave of his senses, driven mad by grief, Gambit abandoned himself to the illusion, desperately embracing this impossibility. He didn't mind this delusion; it gave him Rogue, if only for a little while.

Finally, the kiss broke. Dazed, Gambit moved back towards his chair, feeling her hand slide across his face. Slowly, he opened his eyes, expecting the illusion to shatter. It didn't.

Her face had color, her lips were parted slightly, and those beautiful green eyes were open. He could only stare. Either I really lost it, or dere's somethin' Beast din't tell me, he thought, mind clouded with hope and disbelief. Don't figure I qualify as de fairy tale prince to wake sleeping maidens wit' a kiss. He felt her fingers move softly down his cheek, tender but definitely real. Slowly, her fingertips crossed his lips, pressing gently before dropping back to her bed. "Rogue," he whispered in awe, beginning to believe this was real.

"Mornin', Remy," she said softly, calm and languid. "How long was Ah out for?"

"Since evenin' day before last," he murmured in reply. "Chere," he began. Then he stopped himself. Maybe she didn't need to know how close they'd been to losing her. All he really needed to do was apologize and let her know how much he cared. "Rogue, I'm sorry for all dis," he said softly. "I know it's my fault, an'.."

He never got the chance to finish. "Shut up!" Rogue yelled, jerking to a sitting position. "Ah don' need t' hear any more outa you." Angrily, she turned to face him, breaking free of the covers. "Now that Ah'm awake, you don' need to stay here feelin' guilty. Go on back to your darling. Ah'm sure she misses you." Forcibly, she shoved him aside and fled the room, striding away proudly and defiantly. As she reached the hallway, her head began throbbing. After a few more steps, everything went black for a second, and she found herself staggering to a halt, leaning back onto a wall, waiting for her strength to return. Maybe Ah'm not as well as Ah thought, she admitted ruefully. Ah'll just take a moment t' catch mah breath 'fore Ah go on. An' Ah don't need his help fo' anything!

Gambit stood where she'd left him, staring in shock after her. He wanted to follow, to explain that nothing mattered except her being alive, that he'd never meant to hurt her, that he loved her. But she'd run from him; she didn't want him near her. Should he follow? She had every reason to be furious. And he had no right to force his presence on her after nearly killing her. But she needs to know I din't mean it, he countered himself. An' last time I let her jus' run off, thinkin' she din't want me, she nearly died. She did want me an' was too proud to say so. I'm not jus' lettin' her go again. If she don' want me, she's gonna have t' prove it well enough to convince me.

Decisively, he strode into the hall, following her quickly, making up for those few seconds. He caught up to her easily; she wasn't moving so steadily now. Softly he came up behind her on the silent feet of a trained thief. Gently, almost as an offering, he set his left hand on her right shoulder. His grip was firm but loose enough she could ignore it if she chose to.

She didn't. Fury blazing in her eyes, Rogue whirled to face him. "Listen, swamp rat," she said through clenched teeth. "Ah thought Ah made it ratheh plain before, but Ah'll repeat mahself case you misunderstood the first time. Leave me alone! Ah don' want you here."

"Really, chere?" he asked mockingly. Keeping that insolent gaze locked with hers, he slowly drew her into an embrace, feeling her body melt longingly against his. "Now why don' I believe dat?" His left arm was now around her waist. Her arms rested limply against his chest, lacking the strength or inclination to shove him away. Gambit burrowed his right hand through her hair to cradle the back of her neck. He pulled her in for a kiss, feeling her respond. Don' want me, huh? he thought. Wit' a kiss like dat, I find you very unconvincing.

Slowly, as if against her will but unable to resist, Rogue's arms slipped up to lock behind his neck, pulling him deeper into the kiss. Her fingers began to curl idly through his hair, still down from when the blonde had undone it. As that thought hit his mind, he slowly, gently pushed her away. "'Fore we get to dat, I got somethin' t' explain," he said softly.

Looking down, he studied her face, alight and flushed with exhilaration. Slowly her eyes slid open, soft and tender, and met his. Gambit felt something in his heart swell to near breaking. That was all he'd needed, to see her eyes open and know she loved him. A few hours ago, he's have ransomed his soul for this. "Maybe it can wait after all," he murmured, leaning to kiss her again.

After a minute, he started to pull away. He needed to tell her how he felt and what had really happened. Her grip on his neck tightened. A soft whine rising in her throat, she threw herself completely into the kiss, and all thoughts, concerns, and memories, fled from Gambit's mind as he let her draw him in. After what might have been eternity, their lips parted. Pulse racing, Gambit raised his head and started at her smooth, calm features, composed as if asleep.

Suddenly, her eyes flew open and her face grew strained. The arms around his neck tightened desperately as her knees buckled. "Dat kiss make you dizzy, no?" he asked with a hint of laughter.

Her arms had slipped, and her hands were desperately gripping his collar. Her eyes were fluttering wildly as she struggled to remain conscious. "Remy," she whispered. "Help me. Remy!"

He tightened his arms around her. "Easy, Rogue," he said soothingly. "I got you." Gently, he swung her up to cradle her in his arms. "You been real sick, petite, an' it's time fo' you t' rest." Like a frightened child, Rogue clasped her arms around his neck and nestled her face into his shoulder. Her eyes closed and she lapsed back into sleep, her breathing regular and peaceful. With a soft smile, Gambit carried her up to her room.

Tenderly, he laid her on her bed and started to quietly leave the room. Dere's time for talkin' later, he thought. "Sweet dreams, mon amour."

At his soft whisper, her eyelids fluttered and slowly opened. "Don' leave yet, sugah," she murmured groggily, stretching one arm out towards him.

"Right, chere," he agreed, coming back to her bedside. "Dis ain't all straight yet. Stormy tol' me dat she took you to her Morlock Leech so we could have time together. But all I knew was you came t' tell me we were through. I jus' needed to get away, an' den I found her. She was what I needed; I could close my eyes an' think she was you. Maybe it wasn't right, but it felt good. An' when Wolverine come runnin' in an tol' me what happened... Chere, my heart stopped. An' all dat time when I thought you might never know dat I loved you... Believe me, Rogue, she din't mean anything to me."

"Oh, Ah believe that, sugah," she replied archly. "The part Ah ain't so sure 'bout is that Ah mean any more."

Low blow, cherie, he winced. But I knew it was comin'. After all, ain't nobody trust a cajun T'ief. "Fair enough, chere," he agreed evenly. "I don' deny dat I played lots o' women. De girls I've used, then, what have I wanted from dem?" When she didn't reply, he answered for her. "Wit' most o' dem, it was purely physical attraction and a little meaningless fun."

"Well, Ah can see how Ah'm safe from that danger at least," she agreed thinly. All the old barriers were back in place.

"Right," he agreed a bit uncomfortably. "Some I lulled into trustin' me so I could get somethin' an' run like the t'ief I am. Course, dat's not real likely seein' I ain't got nowhere else to go an' you don' trust me anyway." Her lips parted, and she drew an indignant breath to protest. "No, chere, I don' espect you t' pretend. I know you ain't sure 'bout me. Trust takes time, an' I can wait."

"In otheh words, Ah'm supposed to jus' take it on faith that Ah'm diffrent from those other girls even though Ah may o' may not trust you, is that it?" she asked coldly.

"Somethin' like dat," he smiled. "Like I said, de trust can come wit' time." He sat on the edge of her bed beside her. "For now, jus' believe de love is real." He leaned down and kissed her sweetly, trying to show her everything he'd felt over the past days, the pain, the longing, the heart-breaking joy of seeing her eyes open, feeling her lips meet his.

When he pulled away, he looked into her face, and as her eyes opened, he saw everything he needed to know reflected there. She kept her face playfully unsure, but her green eyes sparkled with mischief and barely suppressed laughter. "Ah don' know, Remy," she murmured. "Ah may not be quite convinced yet."

"Really, chere?" he asked with a half smile. "Maybe anot'er kiss would fix dat."

"Maybe," she mused, feigning doubt.

"Worth a try, no?" he grinned wolfishly.

In response, she slid her fingers behind his neck and pulled him gently back down to her. Dis day's certainly lookin' up, he thought. Then her hands began caressing his neck, and he was lost in the sensations.

Minutes later

Beast was hanging contentedly from his ceiling, wondering how to release this news to the others, along with his decision that Rogue should not know the peril she had been in. At a knock on the door, he flipped down and bounded towards it. Brightly, he swung it open to reveal Wolverine, face tight with suppressed hope. "A beautiful morning to you, Logan," Beast called out, springing back to let him enter.

"From the fact I'm alive, along with your cheery frolickin', I'm figurin' she's okay, right?" he asked, closing the door. His voice was unconcerned, but Beast saw the worry in his eyes.

"Yes," he said. "As you so aptly deduced, my unusual exuberance is due to the unexplained miraculous recovery of my patient, overnight, as it was. And that is precisely what I have told Storm and shall tell the others."

"That's great, Hank," Wolverine murmured, relieved.

Beast paused thoughtfully for a moment, wondering how to say this. "Logan, Rogue and Gambit will never be able to properly thank you for what you've done," he began. "But I assure you this is deeply appreciated by all of us. How does one repay the gift of one's life?"

Wolverine was silent for a moment. He was probably going to brush the comment aside gruffly, not wanting to admit he had done anything important. Beast was trying to decide how to convince him he had.

Beast! The sharp cry in his head startled him enough he lost his grip on the ceiling and tumbled down. Logan watched with a smirk. "Whassamatter, Hank? Gettin' too old fer this circus act?"

Standing and composing himself, Beast chose to ignore that remark. "I believe I've received a summons," he said calmly. "It seems Rogue's miracle has been discovered. If you'll excuse me."

Earlier that morning

Jean woke from a light, confused sleep. Sometimes as she slept when she was under too much pressure, the reins she kept on her powers slipped, ideas and thoughts seeping into her mind, infesting her dreams with borrowed thoughts. Such turbulence, she thought. Desperate hope and futile love. The heart-rending pain was overwhelming her. Quickly, she set up strong blocks, keeping out everything.

Which is why she missed receiving the strong waves shock and joy that radiated from Gambit an hour later.

A bit after said hour

I suppose I've put things off long enough, Jean thought sadly. It's time to face the truth. She had told Gambit that Rogue was beyond her reach, and that was mainly true. She couldn't reach the girl's thoughts, but her presence was still there. As long as she lived, Jean could feel that life force. I have to check. If she died overnight, the others will need my comfort. What little I can provide. We all need to be together.

Slowly, Jean lowered her shield to its normal level and probed for Rogue's mind. The instant she focused her probe on Rogue's psionic signature, a maelstrom of emotions hit her. Overwhelming joy, love, passion. Rogue? A reflex kept her from projecting the query and intruding. Quickly, Jean forced her block up again so she could think without borrowed emotions. How can she...? That just isn't possible. But the thoughts were definitely hers; that much I'm sure of. Very little else, though. I need answers, and I know where to get them.

Beast! she projected strongly, mental voice full of confusion and vague hope, both overshadowed by disbelief. Maybe that was a bit much, she thought as she felt Beast stagger. Subtly, she reached out and steadied his landing. He'll be on his way soon. With my answers.

Minutes later

Beast arrived at Jean's room. He raised his hand to knock, and the door swung open on its own. Beast walked in, shaking his head sadly. "Tsk, tsk, after all these years, still using telekinetic parlor tricks," he sighed. "Jeanie, dear, you really must grow up."

"This from someone who falls off ceilings?" she asked calmly.

"I believe I had some assistance in that feat, he murmured sulkily.

"Enough banter, Hank," she smiled. "Time to get to the point. What on Earth is going on here?"

"I have no idea what you mean," Beast replied, feigning complete confusion.

"Beast, I sense some very unexpected emotions, and I think you can explain," she elaborated, remaining calm.

"This still confuses me," he persisted. "To what exactly are you referring?"

Enough! she projected firmly. Then she calmed herself and continued verbally. "Rogue is awake and...," she coughed delicately, "projecting rather strongly. You have an explanation, I assume?"

"Consider it a miraculous recovery," he replied. "As her physician, I have no explanation. When I went to see her this morning, her wounds were almost completely healed. Medically, it is impossible. As a doctor, I can only consider it a miracle."

"Medically impossible," Jean repeated with emphasis. "I sense there is more than you're telling me, but I'll try to leave it alone if you wish privacy."

"It is not my choice," he replied solemnly. "I am speaking for another. Or not speaking, if you will. Regardless, you have to forgive me, Jean; I can say no more."

"Beast, I don't really care how it happened at the moment," she said with a gentle smile. "She's alive; that's all that matters. The others should be told."

"Storm and the Leech were with me when I discovered this phenomenon, and I just spoke to Logan," he told her. There was something unusual in his thoughts when he mentioned Wolverine. Jean was deliberately not prying, but some thoughts sent waves she couldn't miss.

"I believe I am safe in saying Gambit is aware of this occurrence," Jean said, slightly raising an eyebrow.

"I would imagine so," he agreed with a hint of a smile.

"That leaves us with only Jubilee to inform of our miracle. I'll ask her to join us." Jubilee, she projected, would you please come to my room? Out of courtesy, she left the channel open for a reply.

"What?" the teenager replied verbally. "The belle finally kicked off, 'n' ya want me t' come blubber with ya?" Her words were highly disrespectful, but Jean could fell the pain and fear in her mind.

Actually, Jean transmitted cheerily, she's recovered.

"What?! How?" Jubilee asked, appalled.

Waves of shock and disbelief rolled through Jean's mind. "Remind me not to keep a channel open to Jubilee when she's about to be shocked," she murmured to Beast. She reached up to rub her throbbing temples. May I link Beast in? Jean asked Jubilee. He is better qualified to explain.

"I don't care," was the reply, but Jean felt a touch of apprehension. Jubilee wasn't comfortable having too many minds privy to her thoughts. I don't blame her a bit, Jean thought with a smile. She opened a separate channel to Beast. Hank, will you tell her about it? My head's killing me.

Of course, Jean. Connect us, he thought back.

"Hiya, furface," Jubilee said as Beast's mind entered the channel. "Will someone please tell me what's going on?"

Of course, Beast replied. I believe that is my function. As I have told Jean, medically I cannot explain this phenomenon. I went to examine Rogue and discovered her virtually completely recovered. At this time, I can only consider it a miracle; there is no logical reason I can give you. But our Mississippi Mauler will remain with us for a while longer.

"Great, Beastie, that's totally cool. I'll check with y'all later. Jubes out."

Jean released her from the mental link. Our unaffected, self-absorbed teenager does care after all, she thought to Beast. Oh, Hank, you should have felt her joy and relief. It was a bit overwhelming but so sincere. She paused, unsure how to approach this subject delicately. Perhaps we should continue verbally?

"Of course, Jean," he said. She dropped the mind link.

"When I set up a group channel between several people, I keep it very tightly controlled, as you doubtless know by now," she began carefully. "I kept all of Jubilee's emotions and private thoughts away from you and yours from her. However, I was unable to prevent them from reaching me while keeping the communication lines open. Hank, you are keeping something from us. I felt very strange emotions coming from you while you spoke to her. Guilt, almost. Hank, you're lying to us, and I think I need to know why. I got the impression you know what cured Rogue."

"Jean," he said softly, voice slightly pained. "I do know, and I can't tell you."

"I wouldn't ask if it weren't important. Miracles are fine for Jubilee, and Gambit's too ecstatic to look the horse in the mouth, but I want reality." Defiantly silent, he stared at her. "You cannot close your mind to me so easily. I won't like violating your thoughts, but my regard for privacy nearly killed Rogue. She was spared, and I'm grateful for any part you had in that, but I feel it is my duty to know how you accomplished it."

"I did nothing, Jean," he replied calmly. "Your cause lies elsewhere. Find the source and look for your answers there; I respectfully decline." Quietly, he rose and left the room.

I shouldn't have been so harsh with him, Jean thought guiltily. I'm just afraid that this miracle came with a price. If there's the risk of further harm to the group, I have to know about it. But not through abuse of my powers. Xavier taught me better than that. I'm sure a good leader can unravel a mystery without resorting to mind reading. Let's see how good I am. But first, an apology to Beast.

A few minutes later

Beast opened his door to reveal a contrite Jean. "Hank, I'm sorry," she said immediately. "I'm sure you have reasons for your silence. I'm just afraid there may be a risk involved here, something I need to be prepared for."

"I understand the concern," he nodded gravely, thinking. "Nothing chanced, nothing gained." After a pause, he continued. "There was a danger involved, but it has passed. No lurking risks or blood contracts with unscrupulous spirits. I can say no more, but I assure you the crisis is over."

"Thank you, Beast," she said, relieved. "Why this need for secrecy, if I may ask?"

"You may," he smiled. "In a manner of speaking, there was a price extracted for this service. No one is to know of it. The decision was not mine, but I am bound by my word. Jean, you don't need to know, so please don't ask me."

"If there's no danger to anyone, I yield my curiosity," she agreed hesitantly. "But perhaps you could convey my gratitude to this anonymous person."

"He will be honored, I assure you," Beast nodded. With a smile, Jean turned to leave. Remy, Logan, or Storm's Leech. Hank's too politically correct to use "he" as a generic. That's a start.

"Jean," Beast called after her. "When you figure it out, don't tell the others."

"Of course, Hank," she agreed with a laugh. He's known me too long.

Thirty minutes later

"Mmm...Remy," Rogue murmured, lips softly brushing his neck. "If Ah was out for so long, should we maybe tell ev'ryone Ah'm okay?"

"Dey know, chere," he said softly, breath tingling across her neck and ear as his tongue playfully flicked across both. "De Beast 'n' Stormie'll tell de others. Fo' now, let's be selfish, no? We got a few hours, an' I say we don' share dem wit' nobody." He began kissing her neck in earnest. "Any objections?"

"One," she breathed. "But Ah can fix that mahself, real easy." Gently but insistently, she slid his lips over to meet hers.

Her kisses had started off tentative and sweet, but she was starting to get more eager and passionate. He felt her fingers burrowing through his hair and running down his cheek and jaw. His arms tightened around her back, crushing her against him, feeling her heart pound in rhythm with his own. Finally, she gently, lingeringly pulled her mouth from his. With a soft, contented sigh, she nestled her face in between his neck and shoulder, delighting in the ability to touch him.

"Chere," Gambit whispered, breathless, "you sure you ain't been practicin' dis? You must learn real fast."

"Well, Remy," she murmured coyly, fingers wrapping in his long hair. "Ah have a good teacher, an' that always helps." She fell silent for a moment, and the mood changed. "Actually, Ah guess Ah'm cheatin' in a way. Unconsciously drawin' on Belle's memories o' what you like. At least, Ah think Ah am." Gambit's eyes turned a little sad. She couldn't see that, but she felt it wasn't an easy subject from the way his body tensed at the name. "Ah'm sorry, sugah, maybe we won' discuss that."

"No, chere, I was jus' thinkin'," he said, voice normal. The pain was gone from his embrace. "Dat's an intrestin' idea, but I don' think you're right. You don' kiss like Belle."

After a moment, Rogue lifted her head slightly. "Remy, please tell me Ah ain't dreamin'" she asked softly, sounding almost like a frightened child.

"Why, chere? You have dreams like dis a lot?" he asked, voice sparkling with charm.

"Mm-hm," she murmured sleepily, fingers curling locks of his hair. "When Ah took Belle's mind, Ah made those memories mine. Ah used those thoughts whenever lovin' you got too hard. In mah head Ah could feel you, touch you without bein' afraid."

"Hush, chere, we face dat tomorrow. Today, I have you back alive an' with me." He stared into her eyes, face dark and intense. As her eyes met his, she saw tears there, and a fierce love so desperate she had to look away.

"How bad was Ah?" she asked softly, staring down at his shoulder. He wasn't answering, so she pressed the issue. "Ah know Ah was hurt pretty bad, an' don't try t' brush it aside. The relief Ah see in your face means it was worse than y'all are gonna say."

"Chere, I don' wanna worry you," Gambit said softly, "but you should've died. You were almost gone, and dere's no reason dey can give me fo' why you woke up. Yeah, Rogue, we nearly lost you."

"Ah wondered if that was it," she replied softly. He may not know what cured me, but those strange dreams Ah was havin' give me a pretty good clue, she thought. Now, do Ah thank Logan o' let him stay all secretive-like?

Meanwhile

Back in her room, Jean continued to muse over the puzzle Beast had presented her with. Remy would've done it; no question about that. If there was any way, he'd have taken it, selling his soul if he had to. But his thoughts were so desolate. He truly thought she was dying, no hope in sight. The Leech is a good possibility. Perhaps he has abilities we were unaware of. He doesn't gain the abilities he absorbs, though, not like Rogue. This has to be related to Hank's request for Gambit to be put to sleep yesterday. More secrecy. Miracles without recognition. Has to have the ability to heal nearly fatal wounds overnight. And Rogue had to absorb that ability. Finally, the pieces clicked. Why didn't I see it before? It's so simple!

Hank, Jean projected, would this "miracle" go by the name of Logan?

Sworn to secrecy, he didn't reply, so Jean knew she was right.

A little later

Gambit was now laying on his back, Rogue curled up contentedly next to him. Her arms were on his chest, and she had her head resting on them. As she snuggled in closer, her hair fell across his face. He brushed it down onto his neck, enjoying the sweet tickling sensation. He reached his arm over her hair and rested his fingers on her cheek, noting with satisfaction that she turned towards the caress. Her involuntary flinch at skin contact was fading. Slowly, she turned her head to kiss his fingertips.

"So, chere," he asked after a moment, "where does dis leave us now?"

He felt her tense a bit. "Ah see your point. Today was fun, but what can we have when mah powers come back?" She was blunt, but he could tell she was afraid of his rejection. That meant it was time to reassure her.

"We can still have love," he replied seriously. "I hope we're adult enough t' see the diffrence between love an' jus' de physical part of it. An' chere, I know dat what we have is love. An' love can last through anything if we want it to, if we try hard enough. Chere, I 'm ready t' work for dis, for dat impossible 'us.'"

She turned to look into his eyes, unfrightened by the intensity she saw burning there. "So am Ah, Remy. An' Ah do love you."

"Dat's all that matters, then. As long as dere's love, we can make 'us' real," he said gently, putting one hand on her neck. Firmly, he pulled her in to him.

Unresisting, her lips met his. Her body melted against him, and he felt her heart beat in union with his. And somehow, nothing else mattered.