A/N: Hey guys! Thanks so much for the reviews; keep em comin, folks!
I threw in some Rogue/Remy stuff in this chapter, partly because I couldn't help it and partly because, yes, it is important for the plot. I try to keep my crazed fangirl impulses at a minimum. But mostly, this chapter belongs to Kurt and Trent. Enjoy!


Chapter 7


Kurt sighed glumly, and then sighed again just for effect. It was horribly embarrassing that he, one of the top acrobats in Germany, was now so out of whack that he had to rely on the hallway wall to support him as he walked through the mansion. He could barely even balance walking on two feet now, let alone fly through the air to land on a two-inch wide bar.

It had been a day since he'd arrived back home, and he felt like a new man. He didn't know what Hank had done to him, and he didn't particularly want to--all he knew was that the sickness and panic that had haunted his mind and body for the last week or so had all but disappeared, although he was still much weaker than usual.

He stopped outside Trent's door, and his tail swished nervously behind him. He knew next to nothing about this woman, and yet she had let him live in her home for days, feeding him, dressing his wounds, nursing him back to life... it was an unsettling thought, really. This complete stranger (whom he hardly remembered talking with at all) had seen him at his most vulnerable, had been closer to him than he allowed many of his friends.

Gulping, he knocked on her door. Might as well get this over with now.

A very annoyed and sleepy Trent opened the door--you can't always assume that everyone is up and about by one pm. Despite himself, Kurt found himself staring: his deranged and animalistic self hadn't really remembered how beautiful she was. Her hair was jet-black and fell just past her shoulders, swirling around her shoulder blades in ways that made countless men weak in the knees; her skin was shockingly pale in contrast, and her eyes... her eyes sent a shiver down Kurt's spine, and he wondered if that was how normal' people saw him: as a dangerous, cunning animal, that was tame for now but could strike at any moment.

Um, Hello? Trent waved a hand in front of Kurt's face, and he started, realizing that he had completely spaced out staring at her. Shaking himself out of it, he gave her a nervous smile and half bowed, mockingly kissing her hand. Guten Morgen, fair lady--or should I say afternoon?

Either one, it's still too damn early. Here, come on in. Trent stumbled inside, still rubbing the sleep out of her eyes and heading for her bedroom to fetch some clothes. She had been sleeping straight for more than thirteen hours, and would have liked to be sleeping for at least a good three more before waking. She and Mr. Sandman had a lot of catching up to do.

As she slumped off to her bedroom, Kurt couldn't help but notice Trent's distinct state of undress. Scorning the long nightgowns that Xavier provided the guestrooms with, she had apparently chosen to sleep in only a tiny X-emblazoned t-shirt, sans pants. Having lived around spandex-clad women for years now, Kurt should've been used to seeing attractive women dressed in so little, but no--it still caught him off-guard, in the very best sort of way.

Kurt took a seat on her sofa, taking in his surroundings, which weren't much. Save for a smoldering ashtray balanced on the sofa arm, the room was completely bare of anything personal--which made sense, now that he thought of it, seeing as she'd been forced to run from her apartment in the midst of a fight.

Trent emerged from her room decent and awake, and laughed inwardly at the sight of Kurt sitting nervously on the edge of her sofa, not quite sure what to make of her or the situation. Leaping catlike onto the couch, she grinned in a slightly manic way that made Kurt wonder if she was any relation to Sabretooth. So, what brings you to my humble abode, Herr Wagner?

Well, I--I guess I wanted to thank you, Trent. He laughed, embarrassed. I can't quite remember all of what happened, but I doubt looking after me was the most, um, compelling task, given the circumstances.

Trent raised an eyebrow, her tone mocking. Au contraire, I happen to like guys that puke all over my bed. Major turn on, you know.

Kurt stared, and then burst out laughing. Ah, but of course--I can see that my dashing looks and personality would easily overcome a woman even if I was feeling a bit under-the-weather- at the time, he teased.

Trent rolled her eyes. Yeah, under the weather. She looked like she was going to snap off another witty comeback, but instead she stopped, her face taking on a searching look that made Kurt squirm. You really don't remember much of what happened, do you?

Kurt sighed, running his hand through his hair. Nein--or not much, anyway. I vaguely remember talking to you, and then the fight... but most everything else is just blurry. Blurry, yes--but that was only the half of it. He could remember... feelings, thoughts, emotions. He could remember her arm holding him up, giving him strength; he could remember the tingly feeling of her mind, as she connected to him, and the cold, steel anger that radiated off her when she realized that her home was being invaded.

Trent narrowed her eyes, and Kurt felt his heart skip a few beats. Damn, she was scary when she had that look on her face. How... much do you remember about me? she said, her voice full of suspicion.

Uh, hardly anything, really. What was up with her? She was warm (well, comparatively) and friendly one minute and cold and menacing the next. I remember that you took me in, nursed me and that you were fighting along with the X-men when we were attacked.

Trent gave him a long, hard look and then seemed to relax, lying back and grinning lazily. What a pity--you didn't remember that night of unbelievable, hot sex we had...

Kurt stared, growing pale. We did WHAT?!

Trent laughed, guffawing so hard tears came to her eyes. Oh, man fuzzball... the look on your face! You really are way too gullible, ya know that?

Kurt stared, and then collapsed in relief, realizing she was joking. Don't do that to me, he said weakly. You scared me there for a second!

Trent sat up, mock-serious again. Scared' you? Just what are you implying?

That perhaps being-ahem-intimate with you would not do so well for my polished, chaste reputation-

Hey, I resent that! Who said I wasn't chaste?

he teased, and was rewarded with a pillow thrown at his face.

***

It wasn't a particularly special tree, had no distinguishing marks about it, and the location wasn't anything extraordinary, either. It was just a common Oak, one of many in Xavier's gardens. But Rogue liked it, all the same.

It was a good climbing tree, and Rogue loved scrambling up the bark, despite the fact that she could just as easily fly to the top of any tree she wanted. She had begun visiting its branches soon after the first real troubles hit with Remy, all those secrets of Sabretooth's. She had only come to the tree because the roof was under construction at the time, but after a while she realized she preferred disappearing amongst the tree's many boughs and hiding spots to sitting on the roof of the X-mansion. Remy spent so much time on the roof that she was haunted by his presence whenever she went up there--sometimes she could swear she even saw his face out of the corner of her eye, even months after he'd left.

No. He hadn't left. She left him.

Rogue sighed, resting her head against the giant trunk of her favorite tree. It smelled like sap and moss and wet leaves, as far away from the smell of bourbon, smoke and tabasco sauce as it was possible to get. Whenever she came out here, she could forget that his scent, just like the rest of him, haunted her wherever she went; she could forget his guilt plaguing her mind, his cajun accent that sometimes slipped out of her mouth these days, the taste of his mouth that still lingered, and just breathe, become part of the tree and forget that she was ever a mutant, that she ever even left Mississippi.

Remy had found her up here once, after she'd heard the first dire hints from Sabretooth. What ya doin' up dere wit de squirrels, chere? You too pretty ta hide behind so many leaves like dat. She had kicked acorns down at him, and Rogue smiled at the memory of his indignant squawking as he tried to shield himself from the barrage.

He was still alive, she knew it. What with the bond they already shared, not to mention his voice in her head every day, she would feel it if he weren't. She knew she would, because despite her words and actions she still loved him. She had meant it when she said she would love him unconditionally, no matter what he did, but when they were outside, and he had looked at her--there had been so much guilt and self-loathing in those devil eyes, and she could feel that reflected in her own mind, along with his powers sparking from her fingertips, and she was so confused and the images of all the Morlocks dying, their screams imprinted in her brain, Kitty phasing in front of her and discorporating completely, Kurt's screams as Riptide tore into him, and Remy's horrified memories of his teammates turning on innocent children, of the blood and destruction and fear and knowing he'd caused all of it...

She hadn't been able to handle it. So she ran, not letting herself think of his last words, not letting herself think of the card she'd thrown to the ground, not letting herself think of their last night together. She had loved him too much to deal with his own self-hatred, she had run from the overwhelming intensity of her own feelings as much as anything else. Maybe if she left him to die it would kill the burning passion in her own heart; maybe if she left him to die it would erase the words I love you' from both their minds.

Rogue bent her head and began to cry, for what had to be the millionth time since Antarctica. She remembered Jean's words earlier that morning-- I thought you and Gambit were joined at the hip. She had been having fun, hanging with the girls, kidding around with Trent and for once, not thinking about Gambit. But those words had brought everything rushing back...

Trent. Rogue made a valiant effort to steer her thoughts away from Remy and towards a safer topic. She wasn't sure what she thought of the newcomer; she seemed friendly enough, at least to Rogue, but she didn't know what the girl had against Logan--although Rogue had to admit, seeing her old friend practically frothing at the mouth because of Trent's goading was hilarious.

There was something in Trent that attracted Rogue to her--she had that devil-may-care attitude, she didn't seem to care what anyone thought or what happened, just taking everything in stride.

Rogue wished she could be like that.

Well. No use sitting here all day, was there? The Danger Room was calling to her. Swinging her legs over the branch she perched on, Rogue dropped to the ground. She had to get him off her mind.