Chapter 13

Charles looked up at the polite knock on his study door.  He called for the owner to come in and was unsurprised to see Cyclops step into the room.

"I hope I'm not interrupting anything?" 

"Of course not, Scott.  Is something on your mind?"  Charles pushed aside the reports he was reading.  Hank's progress was steady but slow.  If he had discovered anything remarkable, he would have hung himself from the ceiling fan and told Charles about it in detail instead of just leaving the papers on his desk.  An errant thought returned to him and he hid his smile.  The contractor who had installed the fans had wanted to know why he wanted his house to have structurally reinforced ceiling fans that could carry four hundred pounds of downforce.  Charles had never explained since the poor contractor would probably have understood a blue furry mutant who liked to hang upside down while expounding theories far less than he understood the original request.

Scott settled himself in one of the chairs that faced Charles' desk. Charles dragged his attention back to the present.

"I was wondering if you've decided what to do about Gambit," Scott said without preamble.

Charles had wondered when the question would come.  "Is there something I should be doing about him?" he responded innocently.  He was well aware of Scott's feelings towards the young Cajun.

Scott's eyebrows dipped.  "I know you asked us not to say anything to him about this thing with the Witness, but don't you think it needs to be dealt with?"

Charles smiled to take the sting out of his words.  "I think you're overreacting, Scott.  After all, the Witness was nothing more than a danger room projection."

"Yes, but it still seems... suspicious."

"You were the one who cautioned me not to put too much store in the Witness, weren't you?  Not to trust him?"

"Uh, yes."  Scott was obviously uncomfortable with the questions.  "But that still doesn't explain Gambit's actions.  If he had concerns about the Witness, he should have said something instead of sneaking around and destroying the program."

Charles leaned back in his chair.  "Scott, you have had two children, now, return from possible futures as adults-- Cable and Rachel."

Scott frowned at the new direction in the conversation, but nodded.

"And as I remember, neither you nor Jean reacted particularly... rationally... to meeting either of them, knowing who they were."  Charles could tell from Scott's expression that he didn't like having to concede that point.  "They represented futures that hadn't turned out the way you wanted. I remember Jean often saying that Rachel's presence made her feel like she couldn't control her own future because it had already been decided for her."

Scott nodded at this, but slowly.  He seemed to understand the point Charles was leading up to.  Charles decided to spell it out anyway.

"Now consider that Remy has had to face a future version-- not of a child, but of himself.  And I doubt that self is who or what he wants to become.  I am sure he has felt much the way you and Jean have in the past when dealing with such things."

Scott sighed.  "I guess you're right, Professor.  I wasn't looking at it that way.  I suppose I wouldn't be too happy to meet a future version of myself, either.  Especially under these circumstances."  Another thought seemed to strike him.  "Do you think Gambit knows anything about this?  Our... deaths?"

Charles answered him honestly.  "I don't think he knows anything about it.  Not now, certainly.  But I also believe that he sits in the very crux of the matter despite that ignorance.  I think that was the warning the Witness was trying to give us."

Scott stood.  "You kind of liked him, didn't you?"

Charles smiled.  "Would it ruin your opinion of me if I admitted it?"  He didn't give Scott a chance to reply.  "I think he is probably a very remarkable man.  I would have liked more of a chance to know him."

Scott didn't seem particularly reassured by his words, but Charles left the conversation there.  Scott was like a son to him, more so than any of his blood children had ever been.  He was confident that Scott would eventually conclude, as he had, that Remy needed their support.  And he would come through.  Charles knew that Scott's few attempts to build a friendship with Gambit had not been as productive as he might have liked, but he had faith in Scott, that he would find a way to win the young man's respect.  Perhaps even his trust.  Gambit was, in Charles' private opinion, the most self-sufficient lost soul he had ever met, but still lost for all of that.

"Professor?"  Scott was looking at him with concern written in his features.

"What is it?"

Scott shrugged.  "Nothing, sir.  You just seemed sad all of a sudden."

Charles waved his concern away.  "It's nothing important."

"If you say so."  Scott left quietly.  Charles stared at the door for several long moments before returning to his work.

#

Remy sipped his beer and waited.  They were comfortably tucked away in one of those back corner booths at Harry's, and the waitress knew to leave them alone.  Rogue sat with both hands wrapped around her mug, staring into the foam as if she might find a revelation there.  She had not moved or spoken for several minutes.  In fact, she hadn't said anything at all since they'd left the mansion. Remy was beginning to wonder if she was going to.  He was still willing to wait-- at least for a while longer.  She had done nothing but surprise him today, so the odds were good he might get one or two more.  She had certainly surprised him when she offered to ride with him on his bike.  Not that she'd gotten particularly snuggly about it, but without her powers, she had seemed quite happy to hold on.

At first, he had thought it might be a come on, but Rogue was never that subtle.  If she were in the mood to flirt, she tended to do so with the heat of a twelve alarm fire.  He had learned long ago, however, that when she was like that it was a sure indication she had absolutely no intention of carrying through on her suggestions.  It was only when she was at her shyest that it meant she was serious.  Which was pretty normal for a young woman with zero sexual experience, he had to admit.  Unfortunately, he wasn't certain where she might be in that spectrum today.  Everything she did seemed to be... unconscious.  He had the sneaking suspicion she wasn't trying to flirt with him at all. 

So, y' just gonna get what y' deserve f' gettin' y' hopes up too high, he told himself sternly.

"Rogue?" he finally asked.

Rogue seemed to shake herself out of her reflections.  She looked up briefly and then away.  "Ah'm sorry, sugar.  Ah thought ah knew what ah wanted ta say."

"Take y' time, chere.  They not kickin' us out yet."  It was a feeble joke, but she smiled anyway.

After a few more moments of silence, Rogue sighed and seemed to gather herself.  "Well, first things first, ah guess."  She looked up, meeting his gaze.  An old, familiar fear filled her eyes with shadows.  "Ah'm really sorry-- for everything.  Ah nevah meant ta hurt ya..."

Remy was about to protest, but she stopped him with a shake of her head.  "An' ah don't mean mah powers.  Ah'm sorry ah ran away, an' that ah tried ta blame ya for everything when it really wasn't evah about you.  It was about me."  The fear was still in her eyes, but she had it under control.  Remy couldn't help but admire her, even as he tried to listen.  The courage he saw in her now was one of the things that had attracted him, even in the beginning.

"Ah still don't remember what happened to ya in Seattle."  That got his full attention. His stomach knotted into a tiny ball.  Any mention of Seattle made him nervous.  "An' ah suppose it doesn't really matter."  He began to relax a little as the meaning of her words sank in.  "Ah hope someday ya'll tell me, because ah know how much it's eatin' at ya, but ah've got things in mah past, too, that ah'd rather just bury and forget."  Her gaze begged him to believe.

Remy wasn't certain.  "What about not bein' able t' trust me?"  That's what she'd said in Seattle.  That she'd never be able to trust him because of what he'd done there.

Rogue looked away.  "Ah trust ya-- who ya are today, at least."  She looked back at him as she qualified the statement.  "Ah think, if ah'd met ya before ya were in the X-Men, ah probably wouldn't a been able ta stand ya.  But if y'all are willin' ta live with that, ah can, too."

Remy had to think on that one for a minute.  What she said hurt, as much as he knew it was the truth.  But she had been inside his head-- she knew what kind of a man he had been, and she didn't like him any more than Remy himself did.  By agreeing, he would be admitting that she was right about him-- about his past.  He didn't want to do that.

Don' be a fool, boy, he told himself.  She knows.  Nothin' y' c'n say gonna change that. But it took a big chink out of his pride to admit it to her.

"I c'n live wit it, chere."  Rogue was worth more than his pride.

Her answering smile was brief, but warm.  When it was gone, the shadow-fear in her eyes took hold once again.  There was still more she wanted to say.

"Ah hope ya know that when ah left, ah wasn't really runnin' away from you.  Ah was tryin' ta run away from mahself, even though ah didn't know exactly why at the time."

Remy shrugged.  "I figured it was some o' both."

Rogue was running one finger around the rim of her mug absently as she spoke.  "Do ya remember when ah said ah couldn't stand ta live knowin' ah could nevah kiss ya again?"  She stared at her hand circling the glass.

Like he would forget!  Every word of their conversation was etched into his memory.  "Oui, chere."

Her hand left the mug, fluttered to her throat and the heavy collar.  "Even then, ah knew, subconsciously at least, that it was because ah couldn't.  Not because it wasn't possible."  She let her hand fall to the table.  Remy knew he could easily reach out and take it in his own, but wasn't certain if he should.

"What changed y' mind?" he asked.

Scarlet crept up her cheeks.  "Ah... don't-- ah... it was... the Witness."  Her eyes darted to his face, as if she were frightened what his reaction might be.  It wasn't the best.

"The Witness!  What'd he tell you?"  His reaction surprised Remy almost as much as it did Rogue.  Why did the idea of her talking to the Witness make him angry?

"Remy!"  Rogue stared at him as if she were wondering the same thing.  The people sitting a few tables away looked over at the sudden outburst, silencing them both.

"He told me the truth," Rogue continued quietly when it seemed like they had privacy again.  "That it wasn't mah powers that kept me away from people."  Her expression turned sour.  "Y'know, it's funny.  The Professah an' Logan an' Storm, an' a lot of other people, have told me the same thing in their own ways.  But ah nevah believed it 'til it was you tellin' me."

"De Witness is not me!"  Remy brought his fist down on the table with enough force to rattle their glasses.  The people at the other table looked their way again, murmuring quietly among themselves.  This time Remy didn't care if he was making a scene.  To have Rogue tying him to the Witness-- believing that he had some connection to the murders of the X-Men-- was more than he could stand.

"Take it easy, sugar."  Rogue's tone was placating.  "Ah'm sorry.  Ah wasn't tryin' ta upset ya."

Remy forced himself to calm down.  It wasn't Rogue he was angry at, really, and it would be incredibly stupid to antagonize her over something that wasn't her fault.

"It's o.k., chere.  I'm sorry.  I... didn' mean t' blow up at y' like dat."

She smiled reassuringly.  "Boy sure does get under ya skin."  There was a hint of tease in her expression.  "But ah guess ah can't blame ya fo' that one.  Ah don't think ah'd like it much either.  Is that why ya erased him?"

This time, it was Remy who looked away.  How could he explain?  He risked a glance at her.  Rogue watched him with a mixture of concern, hope and curiosity.  But underneath that lay another emotion-- a quiet fear.  Fear that he wouldn't tell her, that this would be another Seattle-- another piece of his life he wasn't willing to share with her.  Remy knew that he could wreck everything by not telling her, and that thought scared him as much as anything ever had.

"It jus' seems like every time I turn 'round, somebody's tryin' t' tell me dat I know somet'ing 'bout de X-Men dyin'.  Dat it's my fault somehow.  But I don' know nothin'!  I swear it!"  He stared into her eyes, desperate to know if she believed him.  Her gaze was clear, but there were still traces of suspicion, as if she wanted to believe him, but couldn't quite-- not completely.  Remy felt like he'd been gut-shot.  Then the pain turned to anger.

"I'd let de Professor deep scan me if I t'ought it do any good t' convince ya, chere."  Remy knew the words came out cold.  "But even dat not do any good, eh?  Everybody always be wonderin' if I didn' hide somet'ing from him-- bein' as I'm a telepath an' all."  Remy could see his sarcasm cutting her.  The hurt was reflected in her face.  But he didn't have control of his anger anymore, and the words continued.

"An' y'know what de really rotten part is, chere?  De Witness knows I don' know nothin'.  He says dat's what's gonna get de X-Men killed.  So it don' much matter if I know anyt'ing 'bout it or not.  De X-men are jus' screwed-- an' dere's not a t'ing I c'n do 'bout it."

Remy sat back, arms crossed.  He felt cold inside.  His anger was draining away, leaving only the fear and pain.  Tears glimmered in Rogue's eyes. She bit her lip in an effort not to cry.  Remy knew it was unfair to dump everything on her when it wasn't her fault.  He knew he'd hurt her, and hated himself for it.  But he didn't know how to undo it and take back what he'd said.  He didn't even know if he wanted to.  For all that she'd said she trusted him, she still didn't-- not really.  Wasn't it better to know the truth than to live with the lie?  Except that the truth hurt a lot more than the lies.

Rogue pushed her mug aside until it rested against the wall.  Then she did the same to his, leaving nothing on the table between them except two streaks of water condensed off of their glasses.  Remy watched her without really registering what she was doing.  It hardly mattered now-- she would be leaving soon.  As if on cue, Rogue started to rise.  But instead of getting to her feet, she climbed across the table on hands and knees, ducking to avoid the low hung lamp, then slithered off the table and into his lap.  It wasn't a very graceful maneuver. Remy caught her mostly by reflex, too startled for anything more.  As if they were a long way away, he heard the surprised laughter of the people at the other table.

Rogue grabbed the collar of his jacket in both hands.  Her face was only inches from his-- so close he could almost smell the salt in the tears that had begun to track down her face.  Her expression was intense, but Remy couldn't identify the emotion.

"Now, ya listen here, Cajun," she began.  Her voice was ragged.  "Ah'm sorry fo' all the hurtin' ah've done ya.  An' ah'm sorry ah've been such a fool all these years.  An', yes, all this stuff goin' on with the Witness an' the X-Men dyin' scares me ta blue blazes."  Her grip tightened.  "But ah don't-- not fo' one instant-- believe ya got any intentions o' hurtin' the X-Men.  Ah know ya too well fo' that."  Her voice dropped to a whisper.  She had read his soul once.

Warm relief rushed through Remy, followed by shame for how he had treated her.  Mixed in with all of that was a new warmth, born of her confidence in him.  Remy pulled her to him and buried his face in her hair, telling her again and again just how sorry he was.  Rogue shushed him and returned the hug enthusiastically.

A smattering of applause and cheers from the people at the other table set them both to laughing in embarrassment.  When they turned to look, several of them raised their glasses in a toast.

"Maybe we should go, chere," Remy suggested.  Rogue agreed with a mischievous smile.  Comments to the bartender about the quality of the "entertainment" followed them out the door.  For once, they were both content to let someone else have the last word, though it was a while before the color faded from Rogue's cheeks.

The ride back was quiet and comfortable.  They said little, but Rogue's arms were wrapped about his waist, and she rested her cheek against his back.  Remy was loathe to return to the mansion.  There were too many people there, friends who would want to hear all about Rogue's decision-- people who would want to be there to encourage her.  Remy didn't really want to surrender her company just yet.  A familiar turn in the road sparked an idea.

"Hang on, chere," he told her.  "Rough road."

"Ah remember," she answered as he pulled off of the pavement only a dirt track that led away into the woods.  The late afternoon sun colored everything with a hint of orange as he maneuvered the bike over the uneven terrain.  His Harley wasn't meant to be an off road vehicle, but he was a skilled enough driver that it didn't matter.  Their course climbed steadily into the gently rolling countryside until they reached the crest of a particular hill.  It rose well above the surrounding area and was bare of trees at the top, giving them an excellent view of both the pastoral New York countryside and the darkening sky.

Remy parked the bike and settled sideways on it.  Rogue stood in front of him.She leaned back into his arms, resting her head against his shoulder.  Together they watched the skies fill with fiery orange and red and pink, eventually fading into darkening shades of blue.  Remy had never been much on admiring sunsets, but he knew how much Rogue loved them. He was perfectly content to stay there, with his arms wrapped around her waist and her fingers twined with his, for as long as she wanted.

After a while, she sighed contentedly.  "Ah love sunsets."

Remy smiled.  "Y' say dat every time we come here."  It almost seemed like the intervening months had never happened.

Rogue turned to look at him.  She was smiling.  "Ah guess ah do, don't ah."

She was so close, her eyes reflecting the last of the sky's glory.  Remy didn't even think.  He leaned forward that last little bit to kiss her.  Rogue went completely rigid the moment their lips touched.  Remy backed off, his earlier joy suddenly drowning in confusion.

"Sorry chere--"

"No."  Her fingers cupped his cheek.  "Ah... it... ya just took me by surprise, is all."  Slowly she relaxed against him again.  Her smile was nervous, but full of promise.  "Ah'll get better at this," she told him.

Remy grinned at her.  He couldn't help it.  "'Course, chere.  Jus' need some practice..."he suggested.  Then he suited action to words and kissed her again.  She twitched at the moment of contact, but didn't pull away.  She laughed a little as they parted.

"Lots a practice," she murmured playfully.