Neither of them slept further that night, and as the feeble light of dawn filtered through the tiny window, Rogue could hardly believe that Gambit was still alive. He barely stirred; each breath wheezed and rattled in his chest, every inhale and exhale sounding painful. At every exhale, her heart wavered as she wondered if it was finally his last; there would be a long pause, and then a wheezing inhale made hope flutter once more at the fact he was still alive, still fighting for every breath. She held his hand in both of hers, and, as he regarded her through half-lidded eyes, she realised, with a jolt, that he was awake.

"Remy...?"

She grabbed the nearby bottle and coaxed him into drinking a trickle of the water, moistening his lips. He tried to smile at her, but she could see he lacked even the strength to do that.

"The infection's spreading," Logan muttered to her, grief making his tone even rougher than usual, "he ain't got long left 'til his organs start failin'."

"Oh, Remy..." she tried to blink away her tears – she didn't want to hurt him further by thinking he was upsetting her – but they spilled down her cheeks, as she leaned in close and whispered in his ear, "Remy... I... I love you..."

"Je... je t'aime au...aussi, ch...cheri..." he croaked out, faintly.

I love you too, darling...

By the door, Logan growled low, in the back of his throat. He was torn between wanting to run, and wanting to stay. It would not be the first time he had watched a friend die, and God knew, it probably would not be the last, but despite his initial mistrust of the Cajun he'd grown somewhat fond of the younger man, enough to count him a friend despite their mutual baiting of each other on occasion. He had no desire to watch him die, but nor did he wish to intrude on what could be Gambit and Rogue's final moments together. Neither did he want to abandon her to face the loss alone. So he stood back, in the corner by the door, not moving a muscle, as she cradled Gambit's face in her hands and finally told him how much she loved him, as if it hadn't been obvious for a very long time.

Wolverine stiffened, as a noise from outside made him prick up his ears. He turned his head, marginally, towards the door. In the distance, he could hear the long, low-pitched whine of an engine. A jet engine. His heart sank in his chest. Not again...

"Rogue," he said, hating himself for interrupting, "Rogue... I'm sorry darlin', but... we gotta go."

"What?" Rogue did not even look up, her shoulders shaking with emotion.

"We got company comin'," Logan licked his lips, rocking back on the balls of his feet as he unsheathed his claws, "an' I don't know if it's friendly..."

"We can't move him..." Rogue sniffed, dashing away her tears with the back of her hand, "an' ah'm not leavin' him!"

"Yo' got to, chère..." Gambit wheezed, weakly, turning half-lidded eyes towards her, "go on... go. Gambit be fine... if he knows yo' safe..."

"I ain't leavin' ya, Remy..." Rogue shook her head, stubbornly.

Logan was about to protest the futility of trying to move the dying man, when the window began rattling in the frame. Rogue threw herself protectively over Gambit's prone form just as the window shattered, showering them both with shards of glass. Wolverine tore the door open and launched himself outside, ready to face the oncoming threat, but then froze in shocked disbelief. At the edge of the cliff, glittering in the early morning sun, a medium-sized jet rose up above them, and then came to rest on the grassy moor. The ramp extended, and Beast came barrelling towards him, practically colliding with him, his blue paws clasping Wolverine's shoulders as Logan could only gape at him in shock.

"Wolverine!" McCoy exclaimed, looking him up and down in palpable relief, "are you alright, my friend?"

"Ya came," Logan stuttered out, at last, "ya finally came..."

"Yes, my friend, I am here with Storm and Cyclops," he agreed, gesturing to the other two X-Men coming down the ramp behind him.

Logan mentally slapped himself, as he grabbed Hank's wrists.

"Tell me ya brought medical supplies!"

"We did, of course," Beast nodded, quickly, "we did not know if any of you might be injured."

"Gambit is, an' it's real bad," Logan replied, tersely, "Beast, come with me, quick. You two, fetch a stretcher, and hurry!"

For once not questioning, Cyclops detected the urgency in Logan's voice and sped back up the ramp with Storm in tow. Beast hastily followed Logan into the shack, where Rogue let out a squeal.

"Beast! Ah knew ya'd come, ah just knew it!"

She launched herself at him and threw her arms around his neck. Surprised but obviously pleased, Beast returned her embrace quickly, but then set her aside as he spied the recumbent figure on the bed in the corner.

"Oh, my stars," he breathed, in horror, taking in the shocking sight of their fallen friend, "what happened?"

"Long story," Wolverine grunted, gently supporting Rogue as they approached the bedside, "short version – jet got shot down three, nearly four days ago and a piece o' shrapnel took 'im in the side. Bad wound, got infected, infections spreadin' fast. Can ya help 'im, doc?"

McCoy gently lifted Gambit's wrist in one massive paw, checking his pulse, listening to his breathing and sniffing at the wound.

"I do not know," he said, eventually, his voice still sounding thick with shock and emotion, "he is very, very sick... ah, Cyclops, Storm, bring in the stretcher, please."

"It won't fit..." Cyclops trailed off, staring in dumbfounded shock at Gambit, slumped as he was on the bed.

"Then we will just have to carry him."

Before Beast had a chance, Logan stepped in, gently pushing the blue giant to one side.

"I got this," he growled, his tone brooking no argument, "okay, Gumbo, I gotcha..."

He gently slid one arm under Gambit's knees, and the other beneath his shoulders, and he gathered the younger man up in his arms, cradling him close to his chest. Gambit's head lolled loosely into Wolverine's shoulder, his right arm dangling limply. Were it not for his shallow, wheezy breaths, Logan would have thought the other man were already gone. He carefully carried Gambit out through the door, with the others in tow. Rogue clutched Gambit's abandoned coat in one hand, her face tear-stained and blotchy as she clung to Storm for support. Beast adjusted the head of the medical trolley to a forty-five degree angle, and Logan lowered Gambit onto it as carefully as he could. Gambit did not even stir, as Cyclops and Storm took up the stretcher, and the group ran for the waiting jet as fast as they could.

Once inside, Cyclops went straight for the controls, retracting the ramp and initiating launch procedures. Beast secured the stretcher and went straight to work; Storm helped Rogue to a chair, despite the Southerner's protests.

"Storm – ah – ah wanna stay with Gambit..."

"I know," the other woman nodded, "but you must let Beast work. Come, rest a while..."

At the back of the jet, Logan stood to one side and watched as McCoy worked; first, setting up intravenous fluids, followed by a drip containing a yellowish fluid Logan knew to be powerful antibiotics. An oxygen mask was slipped over Gambit's face to assist his laboured breathing, as monitors were quickly hooked up, and even Logan could tell, the readouts were ominous.

"Oh my days," Beast shook his head as he worked, "his blood pressure, heart rate and oxygen levels are all far too low and his temperature is far too high... this is not good, not good at all... my poor, dear fellow, how you must have suffered..."

Pausing in his ministrations, Beast laid a gentle paw on Gambit's head, and Logan realised he and Rogue were not the only ones who would be grieving if their rescue had come far too late, as he feared. Resuming his work, Beast carefully began to cut away the filthy, tattered bandages, and Storm, who had come over to check on them, gasped aloud, both her hands going to her mouth as she saw the damage that had been done to their friend.

"Who is responsible for this outrage?" she exclaimed, furiously.

"The Genoshans," Wolverine replied, grimly, "an' I can't wait to get me some payback..."

"Repercussions must wait for another time," Beast interrupted, firmly, "for now, Gambit needs our urgent and utmost care. Scott, if at all possible, I would encourage you to apply all possible haste to our flight home!"

"Already on it!" Summers called back, from the cockpit, "How's Gambit doing?"

"Remains to be seen, pal..." growled Wolverine, "just step on it, would ya?"

"Storm, I'd be grateful if you would call ahead to the mansion and have them prepare the medical bay for immediate emergency surgery," McCoy told her, grimly, turning his attention back to his patient, "we will need to excise the necrotic tissue, sterilise the wound and attempt to repair the damage surgically. However, in his severely weakened state, there is a significant risk..."

He broke off and shook his head, as the heart monitor let out an urgent beeping tone, causing Beast to hastily adjust the medicine drip, and Logan snarled; "Move it, Cyke, we ain't got much time here!"

With a roar of engine noise, the jet arced through the sky and towards home.