As soon as she heard the lock clink into place, Rogue shoved away from Gambit and all but broke the closet door down in her haste to get out. In the span of perhaps two minutes, she had learned several very valuable lessons. One: never detour from your original bad guy, especially not to go after some card carrying member of some mutant mafia. Two: never end up stuck in a closet with an annoying, infuriating, extremely hot and tempting Cajun. And three: never, EVER end up stuck in a closet with an annoying, infuriating, extremely hot and tempting Cajun. Dragging her gloved fingers through her hair, Rogue stalked towards the window, fully intent on continuing her pursuit of bazooka boy (though he was probably long gone by now). She didn't really want to know what happened that night. So what if she had a hole in her memory? She had lots of holes in her memory. So what if she'd been paralysised and no one could figure out why? What ever had happened that night, her brain probably had a damn good reason for blocking it out and that was perfectly fine by her. She didn't need some sex starved swamp rat hounding her, stirring up emotions and pissing the living hell out of her.

Of course, you were the one who went after him.

DID AH FREAKIN' ASK YOU?

. . . . uh, no. No you didn't.

Rogue got to the window and slipped one leg out onto the balcony. She hadn't really wasted that much time. Two, three minutes at the most. How far could bazooka boy have gotten? There hadn't been any sounds of explosion of people crying out in fear and panic, so nothing had been launched. At least, not yet. She was just starting to feel under control again when she made the mistake of glancing back over her shoulder. She was just in time to see Gambit emerge from the closet, his grin wide and easy, much like the Cheshire cat from Alice in Wonderland.

Goddammit, did she hate that movie.

She felt frustration boil up inside of her again and she pointed her index finger at him, imagining it was a sword sinking slowly into his chest. "You—." She stopped, tried again. "This is—."

Gambit stood still, his head cocked to one side, his grin slowly widening even further.

Rogue began to see red. "You are a—."

Chuckling, Gambit cupped a hand around his ear and leaned forward a bit. "What's dat cherie?"

Her teeth clenched together so hard he thought they might break, like in the old cartoons he used to watch.

"Put. The. Necklace. Back," she seethed.

He leaned his back against the wall, folded his arms across his chest, and considered her. In his short life, he had managed to see quite a number of femmes caught of in the throes of anger. Anger that was generally directed at him, occasionally in the form of a heavy, blunt object. Absently he rubbed the back of his head as he recalled the feeling of having a cast iron lamp connect with his skull. Dieu, his Tante had a fierce temper. But he had never seen someone with the kind of temper Rogue had. That girl seemed to spend almost every minute caught up in some kind of maddened frenzy. He wondered if she was always like that or if he just seemed to bring out the best in her. The thought tickled him.

"Exactly what necklace you talkin' 'bout, cherie?" he asked, innocently. He could see her fingers dig into the wooden frame of the window and figured she was imagining it was his head.

"The one you told me you were stealin'. Remember? It was two minutes ago?"

Gambit scratched his chin and frowned mockingly. "Gambit don't remember saying nothin' like dat."

"I saw you put it in your pocket."

He held his arms out invitingly. "Go ahead and search me, cherie, if you want." He winked slyly. "But be gentle, oui."

Her eyes flashed and the message in them was crystal clear. It read: I want to murder you and drop your cold, lifeless corpse off some pier with your feet encased in cement blocks so that all the fish in the sea can enact revenge for the slaughter of millions.

Rogue threw her hands up in the air and climbed out onto the balcony. "You know what? Forget it. Ah don't care. Steal whateva' you want. It's a free country. Go ta jail, be molested by prison guards. Whateva."

Eyebrows raised, Gambit climbed out behind her, amused by the way she continued to mutter darkly underneath her breath as she jumped from the balcony to the fire escape that hung to the left of it. He perched on the balcony's railing for a moment, curious as to where she was headed with such purpose. Away from him was an obvious answer. His lips twitched again. The urge to follow her rose up in him, and since his planned afternoon activity had been abruptly canceled, he was free to do so. With ease he closed the distance between them, landing quietly on the metal grating, as if he weighed no more than a feather.

"Gambit touched dat you so concerned for his sexual well being, cherie," he quipped. Rogue pulled up so suddenly that his face nearly smashed into her shoulder. To avoid crunching his nose he threw his weight back, overbalancing himself so that he felt back against the railing. The fire escape shook noisily and Rogue turned to glare at him.

"Shhhhhhh. There's a guy with a bazooka atop this buildin'."

Gambit rubbed the back of his neck and stared at her. "And you jus' bringin' dis up now?"

"Ah was distracted."

"By littl' 'ol Gambit? Dat's flattering."

"Hardly. Ah was distracted by your criminal impulses."

"Is dat another way of saying Gambit's—"

Rogue lunged forward and slapped a hand over his mouth before whatever vulgar innuendo he had been about to say could come forth.

"Look. There is some wack job up there who jus' might be capable of takin' out half a city block. Now Ah know you're all gun-ho for the bad guys and probably don't give a damn if innocent people are hurt but Ah do care and if you don't keep quiet Ah'll break you in half and barbeque your corpse." When she had finished raving, she dropped both hands to her hips and stared down at him. Gambit could almost swear he saw little flickers of flame shooting out from her nostrils. When he failed to respond right away, she gave a little huff, turned on her heel, and continued up the fire escape toward the roof. He frowned at her back. "Gambit cares about the innocent," he muttered to himself.

Shaking her head, Rogue did the best she could to push the troublesome Cajun out of her mind as she neared the roof's edge. She knew how important it was to approach a situation with a clear head. At least, Scott was always mumbling on about something like that. And she wanted to focus on the person with the possible bazooka that could be lying in wait for her, waiting for her to pop her little head up so he could blast it off. But her brain stubbornly refused to untangle Gambit from her thoughts. He was just so irritating . . . . and frustrating . . . . and blue. Wait, blue?

Rogue pulled herself up onto the roof and blinked at the very familiar and very unwelcome figure that stood ten feet or so from her, with something that now looked more like a cannon than a bazooka perched on her slender shoulder.

"Mystique," she snarled, clenching her hands into fists. The blue skinned shape-shifter smiled at the recognition. "How many cliffs do Ah have to throw you offa before Ah never have to see you again?"

Mystique brushed a stray strand of hair back from her face and sighed. "Oh Rogue. I did so hope that you would have grown out of your little temper tantrums by now."

The snide reminder that it had been Mystique who had adopted and raised her had Rogue's eyes narrowing. Without hesitation she lunged forward, pulling her arm back and wanting nothing more than to plow it through the cunning woman's head. In response, Mystique's index finger clicked down on a bright blue button that had a dull yellow ray firing out from the barrel of her weapon. It hit Rogue dead center in the chest and held her suspended in mid-air. Rogue had always imagined what it felt like for her victims when she pulled the life-energy from them, reaching into their minds to steal their memories and into their bodies to steal their abilities. Later, when she could think clearly again, she would think it probably felt like this. Tiny rivers of pain coursed through her body, as if millions on microscopic blades were streaming through her veins. Then the pain shifted and it felt like those blades were being forced up through her skin. She wanted to scream but couldn't squeeze enough air into her lungs to manage.

Finally the light died away and she fell to her hands and knees, her body shaking and weak. Her vision swam but she could just make out the shape of Mystique as she drew closer. Rogue reached out to swipe at her and almost pitched forward onto her face. Mystique knelt down in front of her and lifted her chin with one finger so that she could look into her eyes.

"I've gotten all I need from you, sweetheart." Shifting slightly, Mystique slammed her fist up into the underside of Rogue's jaw, sending the young woman up into the air. She slammed back down onto the roof's edge and rolled off into empty space.

000000

"Cherie? Come on now, where ya at?"

Gambit set Rogue's limp form down on the roof carefully and tried to ignore the blood oozing down the side of her face. After all, he'd broken her neck only a few days ago. The gash on the side of her head was a scratch compared to that. Only it didn't look like it was healing. Frowning, he reached into one of his many pockets and pulled out a faded blue bandana. Gently he pressed it against the wound. As almost an afterthought, he brushed her hair back away from her face, tucking it behind her ear. Her skin was nearly white against the darker tan of the back of his hand. Unable to help himself, he stoked one finger down her cheek and along her jaw where a nasty bruise was beginning to form. He expected to feel the insistent tug of her powers but there was only the soft, smoothness of her skin. Maybe her powers only kicked in when she was awake.

"Rogue?" he said softly, leaning down. "Can you hear me? Time to wake up, cherie."

She remained motionless.

His eyes slid down to her lips and one of his eyebrows quirked up. Chances like that just didn't come every day. He leaned down further, his mouth hovering over hers so that he could just barely feel her breath as it stream out.

And then his vision abruptly exploded into stars when she shot up suddenly, smashing his nose with her forehead. Swearing, he toppled over backwards, his hands flying to his face to press against the injured area. Rogue sat up and cradled her head in her hands. It felt a little like a bomb had gone off in there.

"What the hell do you think you're doin'?"

Gambit mumbled something that was muffled by his hands.

"What did you say?"

He lifted his hands to see if his nose was bleeding and when he saw that it wasn't, he gingerly pressed his fingers against it to see if it was broken.

"Checkin' to see if you were breathin'."

"With your lips?"

Gambit glanced over and scowled at the disbelieving look she gave him. "Gambit was distracted, ok?"

"Whateva." She rubbed gently at her temples, thinking if she pressed too hard her head might just fall off her shoulders. "What happened? Where's Mystique?"

He shrugged and jerked a thumb over his shoulder. "She got away."

"What? And you didn't try and stop her?" she asked incredulously, struggling up onto her feet.

Throwing his hands up in disgust, Gambit got to his feet as well. "Sorry, Gambit's mistake. Guess he should have jus' let you fall to your death and used his magical voodoo powers to fly afta Madam Blue Skin and de helicopta she went flyin' out in." He turned his back to her and stepped up onto the roof's edge, intending to make his way back down.

"Wait."

Pausing, he looked over his shoulder to see her staring down at the ground, hands clenched. After a moment, she sighed and her hands relaxed.

"Ah'm sorry. Visits with Mystique neva leave me in a good mood." Her eyes lifted. "She did somethin' to me and it's not goin' to be good, because nothing Mystique eva does that involves me is good. But thank you, for savin' my life."

He smiled and reached a hand up towards her face. Instinctively she jerked her head back but he caught her jaw in his grip. Her eyes widened slightly as she felt his bare thumb brush over her skin.

"Gonna wanna put ice on dat, cherie," he said, lightly.

"What happened that night?" she heard herself ask and saw a wariness slip into his eyes.

"Rogue!"

She turned her head to see Cyclops and Nightcrawler burst through the roof's door, all but tripping over each other in their haste. And when she turned back around, Gambit was gone. Rogue looked over the edge and thought she saw the edge of his coat disappear into a window. There was a weight on her palm and she noticed that her fingers were loosely curled around something. She opened them.

Diamonds glittered in the sunlight.