The coordinates that Gambit had gotten, (legally, he assured Rogue with one of his charming grins, which in turn instilled a very large amount of doubt in her) took them north into Canada, out past the winking lights of the sprawling cities and into the long, endless stretches of frozen tundra. As the X-Jet lowered onto the snow covered ground, the relentless rain that had followed them from New York shifted into stinging pellets. Gambit stared out at the whiteness as it whipped about, clicking against the metal of the jet. The ramp hummed as it dropped, settling down onto the snow, a wide strip of black in an otherwise colorless world. He knew, even before the wind slipped up into the jet and blew through him, that it was bitch ass cold out. His hands lifted to his mouth and he warmed his fingers with his breath. Rogue stepped up beside him, a long coat folded over her arm. He shot her a pained look.

"Chere, Gambit needs to tell you sumthin'."

Smilingly sympathetically, she patted him on the shoulder. "Ah hate snow, too."

He grabbed her hand and pressed it to his lips. "Dere, you see? Knew we were perfect for each other."

Rolling her eyes, she tugged her fingers free and shoved her arms into her heavy brown coat. "Well, you might want to wait till we get outta here alive before you go ahead an start makin' weddin' plans."

Gambit paled visibly. "Wedding?"

She could hear the terror in his voice and it made her laugh. Really laugh. And it felt good. Like a curtain that had been both dark and heavy had finally been lifted. Her smile sweetened as she reached out and gave his cheek a sassy little pat before moving past him, out into the snow storm.

"Why, shore sugah. Don't want you slippin' away from me, now that you've declared your love an' all."

Involuntarily, Gambit tugged at the collar of his shirt. It suddenly felt just a tad bit too tight. Then, frowning, he jammed his hands into the deep pockets of his coat and followed her out. The wind that had snuck onto the Jet had been a breeze compared to the gusts that raged outside. Snow swirled through the air, mixing with the freezing rain to form a nearly impenetrable wall of ice. Gambit pulled his coat tighter to him and ducked his head, shivering as he felt the air's cold fingers trail through his hair and down the back of his neck. He felt like he was in a wind tunnel; if the wind tunnel was five hundred miles long.

"How come 'dese bad guy always gotta hole up in de North Pole," he complained, practically shouting though she was only a foot or so away. Still, Rogue had trouble hearing him over the howling of the wind.

"Tax breaks, probably. Anyway, we're not in the North Pole. We're in Canada."

Gambit glanced around, his eyes scrunched to keep them from watering. "What's de difference?"

She considered for a moment. "Santa Claus."

He shot her his very best did-you-really-just-say-that look and was disappointed to see that her body was angled away from him, her head bent slightly as she looked at something inside of her coat.

"Anyway," she continued, looking up after a moment. "Let's get moving. There's some kinda infrastructure just up ahead."

Lifting a hand to his eyes, Gambit tried to peer through the cloud of white that danced around them, but couldn't see anything. "How can ya tell?" he wanted to know.

She turned her wrist and he saw the thing she had been looking at. It was a small black rectangle with a wide screen and a tiny keypad. Very similar to a palm pilot. There were a few blips of green and red pulsing on the screen.

"Radar," she answered. With her pinky finger, she pointed to a green dot. "This is the building. About two hundred feet to the north." Her finger shifted to the red dot. "This is where we are, and where they'll find our frozen corpses if we don't get moving."

Moving forward, however, wasn't nearly as easy as it sounded. It was like trying to wade through shoulder deep water while waves continued to crash all around. For every three steps they took, the wind blew them back two. And it didn't help that they jackets they both had, while long and excellent for striking dramatic poses, were not at all suitable for blizzard conditions. Their teeth were chattering before they had managed to make it half way and by the time they reached the tiny shack-like building that had been on the radar, their lips were a light shade of blue.

They had to circle the shack twice before they found the door. Only to find out it was locked. Gambit took half a second to examine the simple key lock; of the sort one would find at a Wal-mart. He considered, briefly, picking it and then decided, what the hell, he didn't like Mystique. Why try and preserve her property? He reached out with one hand, curled his fingers around the cold metal, and sent the particles beneath his skin into a frenzy.

There was a loud pop, and the lock unlatched, falling and disappearing into the snow. Grabbing the door handle, Gambit shoved against the door with his shoulder and stepped inside, Rogue just behind him.

Brushing snow out of his hair, he glanced around the empty room. "Dis is de worst evil lair Gambit ever seen."

Rogue pushed the door closed, shutting out the wind and reducing its cries to a faint echo. "Ah suppose Magneto's lair was much better?" she asked, patting at her coat, sending a small amount of flakes swirling.

Lifting his shoulders, he reached up and tapped the single light bulb that hung from the ceiling. Light flickered wildly for a moment. "Well, at least dere was a Christmas tree."

She eyed him with some disbelief. "You're tellin' me that the self-proclaimed 'Master of Magnetism' keeps a Christmas tree in his secret hideout?"

Gambit scratched at his chin. "Oui. Den again, me'be it was a thermal nuclear death ray. Dey kinda look de same."

Chuckling, Rogue gave her coat one last brush before turning her attention to the room. She could see that Gambit was right; it certainly didn't look like much of an evil lair. It didn't look like much of anything other than an empty shack with a concrete floor and rusty metal walls. There was no furniture, no cabinets, nothing to suggest anyone had been there. Ever. And yet, it seemed familiar. She searched through her memories but couldn't recall having been there before. Of course, that didn't mean very much, considering that there were huge parts of her past that she couldn't remember at all. Her eyes roamed over the walls, over the large splotches of orange and red that were spreading across the dull grey surface. They paused at a black box that hung at chest level.

"Ain't a whole lotta room to park a helicopter," Gambit said, scraping the toe of one boot across the floor. "Guess my source was wrong."

Rogue didn't hear him. She flipped open the box and stared at the row of switches. A circuit box. Normal. She bit her bottom lip. But why would a shack with only one room and one light have a circuit box with sixteen switches? One slim finger reached out and ran down the switches. None of them were label. On a whim, she stopped at the sixth one down and moved under it. As she began to flick it up, the entire panel shifted slightly. She pushed up again until the panel lifted enough for her other hand to grab hold of its edge. Behind it was a second panel, much more high tech than a simple circuit box. There was a shiny silver keypad with ten buttons, numbered from zero to nine.

Gambit came up behind her and pursed his lips as he looked over his shoulder. "Kinda complicated for one light bulb."

Rogue tapped a finger against her mouth and set her other hand on her hip. "Mah thoughts exactly."

"Give Gambit 'bout a minute and he'll crack it."

She smiled and shook her head. "Ah don't doubt it. But there are a few benefits to havin' absorbed Mystique. One of those is knowing that she always uses the same pass code. And the other," she began, her fingers flittering over the number pad. There was a low beep and part of the floor that had looked like solid concrete, slid away to reveal a staircase. "Is knowing what that pass code is."

He looked at her, then at the secret entrance, then back to her. "Yeah, Gambit t'inks you right. We should get married."

Rogue set the false panel back into place and started down the steps. "You think about what color tux you want an' Ah'll think about the flower arrangements. We'll pick a date right afta we kick the livin' shit outta Mystique."

Sighing, Gambit laid a hand over his chest. "De t'ought warms Gambit's heart, cherie."

"Practically sets mahne on fire."

Together, they descended. The stairs did not go very far down, perhaps twenty feet or so, before leading into a long tunnel. There were more bulbs there that hung from the ceiling and the white light from them looked greenish as it hit the walls on either side of them. Again Rogue was struck with a sense of familiarity. An echo of one of Mystique's memories, she thought and tried to ignore the itchy feeling at the back of her neck. There was something bad there. Something very bad. She could feel it. Beside her, Gambit reached into his cloak and pulled out his staff. A slide of his thumb had it extending to four feet. Rogue caught his eye and felt a small measure of comfort. He felt it, too.

At the end of the tunnel was a single door, metal, without any visible locks or keypads. Rogue took hold of the doorknob, felt it turn easily. Taking deep breath, she glanced over at Gambit. He nodded slowly, and tightened his grip on his staff. His other hand came up; four playing cards were tucked in between his fingers, ready to become instant missiles. She turned back to the door. Quietly she pushed it open and stepped inside, her body braced for an attack, her eyes searching for movement.

She froze, her hand slipping off of the knob. Gambit, who had been expecting her to move all the way into the room, bumped solidly into her back.

"Irene?

The silver haired figure swiveled in a chair until she was facing Rogue, black sunglasses ever present, hiding her eyes and a good portion of her face.

"What are ya doin' here?" Rogue asked, disbelief pushing her forward until she was kneeling in front of the older woman. As if sensing she was near, Irene reached out and brushed a hand over Rogue's hair, smiling slightly.

"Waiting," she answered quietly.

Accustomed to the woman's cryptic speech, Rogue caught her hand in her own. "Waiting for what, Irene?"

While Rogue focused on the woman, Gambit turned his attention to the room. Like the shack, it was pretty much empty except for a few metal shelves, a small table, and the chair the woman was seated in. There were three doors; the one they had come in, one off to the right, and one to the left. Gambit narrowed his eyes and felt a slither of unease work its way down his spine. He had a bad feeling.

"Gambit take it you two know each other?" he asked as he stepped up behind Rogue, his eyes flicking back and forth between the two doors.

Rogue kept her eyes on Irene. "Yes. She helped take care of me when I was little. After my father . . . . died, she raised me. What are you waiting for, Irene?" she pressed. A million things were running through her head, all vying for her attention. Why was Irene there? Had Mystique kidnapped her? Was Irene working for Mystique? Was there no one in the world she could trust?

With her free hand, Irene reached up and pulled off the sunglasses. Milky white eyes stared down at Rogue, somehow seeing without seeing. The smile was gone from her lips.

"For the end of the world."

Blinking, Rogue stared at the woman in shock. Had she just said . . . .? "What are you talking about, Irene? What's going to happen?"

Irene's gaze lifted to stare off into empty space. As if she were reading off of a teleprompter, she began to speak in a voice that reverberated. "The immortal shall rise, given new life by the one who is cursed to take it. In falsity and deceit he is reborn to become god over mortals."

Gambit lifted his eyebrows warily. "What she talkin' about, cherie?"

"The future. Irene can see the future."

"She come wit' a translation manual?"

"Under fists of steel the world shall submit and life, all life shall be crushed into the dust it was born of." Her eyes returned to Rogue's and she reached out, clutching the younger woman's shoulders firmly. "Only you can stop him Rogue. There isn't much time."

Helplessly confused, Rogue could only stare blankly. "Who? Who can Ah stop?"

"Apocalypse."

Upon hearing the name, Rogue nearly fell backwards, would have if Irene's grip hadn't been so tight. "Me? How the hell am Ah supposed to stop him? Ah don't even know where the hell he is!"

"He's here. Through that door," Irene said, pointing to the left. She gave Rogue's shoulders a small shake. "You released him. Only you could release him. Now only you can destroy him."

Rogue's head was reeling. "But how?"

"Isn't this sweet? A little family reunion."

Rogue whipped around at the sound of Mystique's voice. The blue skinned shape shifter stood in the doorway to the right, her hands set on her hips and an expression of supreme satisfaction on her lips. Her gaze skimmed over Gambit and she sneered.

"Except for you. You're not family."

Gambit brushed a lock of hair back from his face, subtly shifting his grip on the cards in his hands. "Jus' one of d'ose t'ings to be t'ankful for."

Clenching her fingers into fists, Rogue got to her feet. As she glared at Mystique, she could feel the hate as it pounded through her veins. The woman had single handedly blighted every aspect of her life, without guilt and without remorse.

She was fucking tired of it.

"What are you doing with Irene?" she demanded.

"Doing? I'm not sure I know what you mean. Irene is always with me." Her yellow eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "Don't you remember?"

The sense of familiarity flared again, but though she struggled to, Rogue could not remember what it was that pulled at her. Frustration built inside of her and began to spill over into anger. She took a step forward, wanting nothing more than to wipe the self satisfied smirk off of her adoptive mother's face.

Gambit stepped in front of her, blocking her path.

"Outta mah way, Remy. Unfinished business to take care of."

He shook his head and held his ground. "Non. You heard de lady. Only you got what it takes to stop Apocalypse. Remy'll take care of de blue skin." Gambit could feel her vibrating with fury behind him and unwanted, the memory of her in the alley came back to him. He knew that if he turned around he would see the same blank hatred etched on her features. He hoped she could keep it under control. Because now would not be a good time to break her neck again.

She moved and for a split second, he thought she was going to hit him.

But she had only stepped backwards.

Keeping her eyes on Mystique, Rogue moved towards Irene, taking the older woman's hands in her own and pulling her up from the chair. From the table beside the chair she picked up a long black cane with a white tip and handed it to Irene. Walking backwards, she headed towards the door on the left side. Mystique watched them both silently, without so much as blinking. Rogue pushed open the door, letting Irene walk through first. Then she stood in the doorway.

"Remy? Do me a favor."

"Anyt'ing, chere."

"Keep the corpse. Ah'm gonna want to kick it."

00000000000000000000000000

Author's Note

Aye, another long update. Sorry about that guys, but Harry Potter madness has descended upon my bookstore and we're all catching it as we try and prepare for the big day. But we're getting really close to the end now. There's the big ass rumble between Remy and Mystique and a final showdown with Apocalypse. Both of which I'm planning to have some awesome action scenes. But now, I want to take a moment to give some shout outs to the awesome people who have been reviewing and enjoying my story, despite my less than stellar updating habits.

SickmindedSucker: Thanks for the review, glad you like the story! Yeah Mystique's one hell of a bitch, isn't she? I'm still trying to decide if I want her to die painfully or live horribly. On a lighter note, personally, I think everything would be better if everyone had a hot Cajun.

Kool-Wolf: Thanks! Glad you like it.

MidniteAngelGoth: Well I'm glad you found me. Thanks for digging the story.

Cat2fat900: Not sure how you missed the chapter but I'm glad you liked it. I remember in the old cartoon they had a little blip with Rogue's dad. He was throwing her out of the house 'cause she was a mutant and I was like 'Dude, that asshole!' Granted, he's a little worse in the fic but I think that's probably where the idea came from. Please keep the squirrels under control. They make the crack bunnies twitchy.

jade: Yeah, I've never liked Mystique. Except in the 2nd movie. Glad you liked it. Really sorry about the lack of updating.

BOOM BOOM1: Thanks! Glad you enjoyed it. It was hell to write.

ishandahalf: Ah, ishandahalf. My favorite reviewer. Thanks so much for sticking with me and enjoying my stories. Your reviews always inspire me to write more. Gonna be sad when the story ends. This'll probably be my last X-men fic. sniff. The poor crack bunnies. Where will they go?

enchantedlight: Thanks a lot!

addtothenoise: Thanks a bunch. Glad you liked it. I've always loved the Rogue and Gambit banter. Sometimes you just can't tell if they like each other or if they can't stand one another.

her smile is magic: Thanks!

Wildcard186: Glad you're enjoying it. I read this book once when I was a kid that had Loki, the Norse god of fire, lighting a cigarette with his fingers and I've wanted to have a character do it ever since.