Disclaimer: I don't own 'em.

A/N: Guess what, y'all? This fic has exceeded five-thousand hits. Not too bad, considering the pairing. Admittedly, half of those hits were for the first chapter. Hm. Still, it doesn't stack up too badly when you consider I've gotten over seventy reviews now. It's not a monumental number, but that's about seventy hits per review. Not too shabby, all things considered.

Anyway, here it comes! The long-awaited Gambit Confrontation™:) We finally get to hear Gambit's opinion about all this hooplah! Prepare for guilt, anger and tender feelings revisited! We'll find out why the Cajun took off (as if that weren't obvious), as well as just why Rogue needs to talk to him before she can comfortably make her final decision! And my author's notes will contain many exclamation marks! Wheeeee!

Love it or shove it.

Inappropriate Conduct

Chapter Eleven

Rogue sat at the breakfast bar, purposely ignoring the whispers behind her as the younger students ate – all of them seated at the kitchen table with their chairs as far away from her as was physically possible – while as she stared at the note on the 'fridge.

It was a small post-it note – the adhesive had already worn off and the note was now held up by a novelty souvenir that proclaimed 'My friend went to Egypt and all I got was this lousy magnet'. The blue-ink scrawl on it was cramped and rushed. It was also smudged in one corner, and the paper was bent at the middle. Rogue set her jaw at the thing, finding these humanistic touches to be more than a little guilt-compounding. She knew the scrawl, all too well, and the smudges indicated the haste with which the note had been written.

'Gone for a while. Be back on the 20th', it read.

That had been three weeks ago. It was now the twentieth.

Gambit would be returning today.

Rogue finally looked away from the refrigerator, down at the plate of waffles she'd been brooding over for half an hour now. Kitty had made them. She was getting better at cooking – that was to say, she didn't burn things that required only to be put in the toaster anymore. Rogue smiled slightly at the stone-cold food, before downing the rest of her coffee and getting up. She chucked the waffles in the trash compactor and set the dishes on the sink. The note didn't say when Gambit would be coming back, and even though it was only morning she still had to prepare herself.

She had a lot to consider before she talked to him. On the one hand, he'd lost all right to have a say in her personal affairs – when he'd been given the privilege, well…look what had happened. Rogue couldn't help when her smile widened at that. Looks like Wolverine was right – Gambit did have to shoulder some of the blame.

On the other hand, however, was Rogue's personal guilt. Their relationship had come to an end with this. It wasn't the cause, but it had been a catalyst. The cause was incompatibility, different expectations…Gambit's lack of control over his baser instincts, Rogue's own inability to touch…but this had been something of a cincher, for her. They had tried and tried and tried again, but it hadn't worked. But it worked with Magneto. Still, it felt…wrong to have just given up. To have opted for a relationship that was – in it's own way – easy and devoid of complications. Even now, if she said yes to Magneto, she could only imagine feeling complete simplicity and relief. That alone – the fact that she had chosen an easier option – kept her guilt hanging over her perpetually.

So she had to talk to Gambit. If only to assuage her guilt, to remind herself that nothing could have kept them together for the long run. To prove to herself that she would be doing the right thing, if she chose to leave.

She trudged up the stairs, making a beeline for her room. She'd read in her window seat until she saw him returning through the front gates. It was a definite course of action, anyway. It was much more guided and regulated than she was feeling now, as the center of a whirlwind of perpetual chaos. She rolled her eyes at herself as she slipped into her room, closing the door behind her.

Her beaten copy of Jane Eyre was picked up again – she found her bookmarked place and sat at the window seat. She opened the curtains slightly – enough to see out, and enough to allow in enough light for her to properly read by. But she couldn't begin reading.

Guilt had a firm hold on her, once again. It clouded her ability to process anything external. She hated this…hated it. Her capacity for making herself feel awful was so remarkable that it could render her unseeing to the outside world. If she ever managed to kill a person, she'd more than likely wind up entirely paralytic – not by injury, but by shock and guilt. It wasn't a heartening thought, even when she had no plans to take anyone's life any time in the near future.

She tucked her legs up on the window seat and sighed to herself, closing the book again. Her page was now lost, but she'd read the book hundreds of times as it was. It didn't matter. She wasn't going to be able to read any time soon.

"Dammit."

The problem was, she realized, that by all intents and purposes she should be angry with Gambit. It was his actions that had ultimately ensured their relationship could never work, but she felt guilty because she had ended it. His reaction to the news of her 'secret' was entirely uncalled for – he had no right to be jealous, let alone disappear for weeks without prior notice! – but she felt guilty for causing him pain. She shouldn't be feeling guilty, God damn it. She should be angry, like he was bound to be when he returned. She should be able to throw his indiscretions in his face; she should be able to say that at least she had the strength of character not to tag him along when she found someone else; she should be able to tell him that at least she had the consistency to remain with one person at a time…

But she couldn't overcome her guilt, so she couldn't say those things.

She and Gambit had that dreadful thing…'history'. They shared good, happy moments together, though they had more overwhelming number of bad times to reminisce on. While their relationship was done with, there was still that history. Logical progression met it's first barrier there – emotion. She couldn't get mad with him, not just yet. There was – despite her anger – that small part of her that cared for him still. That part cared what he thought of her. That part was now heavily dominated in her affections by what she felt for Magneto, but still…she owed Gambit an explanation, if nothing else.

"Stupid history," she muttered to herself.

So, once again, she would be the considerate one. She would put herself in front of him and wait for the reaction. Knowing Gambit, she wouldn't face the same problem that she had with Wolverine and still currently endured with Cyclops – cold silence. He wasn't the type to be cold – he was the type to either stew in his anger or deliver it to her with ferocity. If he decided to sulk, she would begin the conversation. If not…well, she'd test how long she could hold her tongue against retaliating, if he chose to yell at her.

She quirked a slight smile, but it was hard to find humor in anything at that point in time.

It was almost the twenty-first before Gambit returned. The roar of his motorcycle finally reached the Institute at eleven-fifteen at night.

Rogue got to her feet and straightened herself out. True to her own pledge, she had remained in the window seat. Kitty – who was now curled up in bed – had retrieved food for her from lunch and dinner while she remained fixed in her place, waiting. No words had been exchanged between the two girls – Kitty knew who she was waiting for, but knew better than to ask why.

"Smart girl," Rogue whispered, casting a fond glance at the lightly-snoring figure under the bright purple duvet.

As Rogue descended the stairs, her heart palpitating madly in her ears, the foyer door opened and closed shut. A set of keys were thrown onto the coffee table by the coat rack; a colorful French curse, muttered wearily, echoed around the room.

Finally, the source of all the noise came into view at the bottom step.

Rogue froze up as Gambit climbed three steps before looking up and stopping in his tracks as well. They stood there, staring at each other from their vastly different positions. Rogue had no idea what expression she wore – her focus wasn't on herself. She studied Gambit's expression, his look – she didn't know what for. His eyes were heavy and bloodshot with weariness and, judging by the roughened look about him, the remnants of a hangover. His skin looked haggard, as well, but he looked alright enough despite it all. The only thing that was obvious about him was that he'd been drinking hard sometime, somewhere in the last twenty-four hours.

His mouth was slightly open; he looked ready to say something, but was having trouble remembering just what that was. His tired eyes flickered over her face, taking in the rest of her at varying intervals before returning to her eyes. Rogue didn't know what to make of his assessing stare – she'd made a point of looking pretty much just how he was used to, with no strange surprises; artfully ripped jeans and a plain dark sweater. The only thing she'd forgone was the dark makeup – she'd stopped wearing it entirely.

Who only knew how many minutes passed with the two of them staring at each other like that? There were no observing eyes to be found – it was only him and her, at opposite ends of the stairs. Eventually, however, the spell was broken. Gambit moved to one side of the staircase and gestured behind him towards the cavernous foyer. "Wouldn't wanna keep y' from y' destination," he said unemotionally. "Lord knows ol' Buckethead doesn't like t' wait."

Rogue bit back the angry retaliations that surged in her mind at his words. "Ah'm not goin' out," she told him levelly. "Ah wanted ta see you." It was a hard task to keep her rage out of her voice, but – by some miracle – she managed it.

Gambit grinned, but the humor in his expression didn't reach his eyes. "Well, how 'bout dat? Is dis de Twilight Zone, chère? Must be…"

Biting her lips together, Rogue linked her hands behind her back. "We gotta talk," she told him.

The Cajun's jaw set and his bleary eyes hardened. "Ain't like y', chère, t' wait up all night jus' so y' can harass a man. Here Remy t'ought dat y' might have better t'ings t' do now…like bein' kept up all night, instead."

"That's not true, Gambit." Rogue leaned against the balustrade, outwardly ignoring his last comment despite the anger that seethed inside of her. "Ah spent a number of nights waitin' on ya. Remember?" She tried to reign in the bitter comments about his own nocturnal habits – it was quickly wearing down her patience. But this tactic was a more effective one than anger. If guilt was going to plague her, then he was going to feel it too. She'd almost been expecting his words – she'd already planned her strategy to counterstrike. "Ah can count at least three nights that Ah waited at mah window, watchin'. Hopin' that ya might come back an'…give me a real reason ta stay. What's one more time, Ah figure?"

"Merde…"

She began to twist a lock of hair between her fingers again. That old nervous habit. At least her ploy was working. "Ah just wanna know a few things, Gambit," she said quietly. He remained silent, and her anger began to dissipate slightly. "An' Ah wanna explain mahself. Ah'll get outta ya way for good, then. There's just a few questions Ah have…a few things Ah gotta say, too."

Her guilt-plot worked; his shoulders slumped heavily and he leaned back against the wall opposite the stair railing. "Y' t'ink I want y' outta m' way, girl?" he asked. All the bite was gone from his tone. He was reduced to sounding only tired now. "Y' ask dis piece, den y' leave? Dat's it?"

Rogue looked at the hand twisting her lock of hair. "Ah don't know yet. Ah haven't decided ta stay or go. That's why Ah wanna talk to ya."

He snorted and scratched his chin. "Chère…not me. Y' already know I don't want y' t' go."

"No, Ah didn't know that." She'd suspected, however. But that wasn't why she was there. She was there for her answers – she was there to alleviate her guilt. "Ah'm not here tryin' ta get ya to convince me ta stay, alright? If Ah wanted ta hear motivational, pretty speeches, Ah'd try patch things up with Cyke." Both of them smiled slightly and humorlessly at that. "Ah just want answers. Ah wanna make an informed decision, an' Ah need the right information for that."

"Den talk t' Beast. More information in dat man den in de Encyclopedia Britannica."

"Ya don't wanna talk ta me, then?" Rogue asked, trying not to sound hurt.

Gambit dropped his head back against the wall with a thud. "Dat's not it, girl. Y' know dat's not it." He screwed up his eyes and began searching through the pockets of his worn trenchcoat for a cigarette. "Goddamn." He finally located one, secured a lighter from another pocket, and lit it up. He took a long drag on it before opening his eyes again, exhaling a stream of smoke as he did. "I dunno what y' t'ink I can tell y'."

"Ask me somethin', then."

"Wha'?"

Rogue took a deep breath and fixed him with a level stare. "Ask me somethin'. Anythin'. Ah'm not the only one with questions here, Ah know that. Ah can find mah answer in ya questions."

Gambit stared at her, frowning. His expression turned guarded. "How de hell can y' find answers in questions, chère? Y' gonna psychoanalyze me?"

She shook her head. "Dunno how," she admitted honestly. "But sorta. Just ask me somethin', Gambit."

"Righ' den…" He took another long drag on his cigarette. "Why?"

"Why wha'? Be specific, won't ya?"

"Why him? It's not just de touch, chère…Ah know y'."

Rogue couldn't help the disturbing giddy hop of her stomach at that declaration, but she fought it down. "No, it isn't," she admitted. "There's…it's complicated." She took another deep breath. "The reasons keep changin'. First it was 'cause…'cause Ah found a way ta have control with him. There's a power in desire, isn't there? Ah felt it, anyway. It was somethin' that Ah could only feel with him – control an' power. Ah didn't have either such thing, literally, but it felt like it." She looked away, back to the hand at the side of her face that twisted in her hair. "Then…when it got more complicated, it was…Ah don't know. We started actually talkin'. Everythin' he said made me feel…worthwhile. Ah never felt small or insignificant with him. He just managed ta keep me feelin' safe an' solid when everythin' felt so damn weird an' outta control." She looked back at Gambit, to find that he'd already practically devoured his cigarette and was staring furiously out towards the foyer behind him. "He brought back the girl Ah used ta be. Ah'm…happy when Ah'm with him."

A silence fell. Gambit broke it. "Righ'." He flicked his cigarette butt into a pot plant. "So dat's de 'why him' covered. What 'bout de 'when', chère?"

"Ya already know. That night ya stood me up."

"Dat's righ'…forgot." He shifted slightly, then looked back up at her. "How, den? Wha' does he do dat no ot'er man's t'ought of yet?"

"How's he able ta touch me, ya mean?" Rogue frowned slightly. What difference did that make? "Magnetic shield."

"No offense," he said, noting her frown and wrongly assuming the reason behind it.

"Forget it." She shook her head. This wasn't going where she thought it would. Gambit was asking questions as if he were sizing up Magneto as a rival. That wasn't her intent, damn it. He was supposed to be asking her questions that had nothing to do with Magneto – questions that were strictly relating to him and her. "Gambit, lemme ask ya somethin' now." He nodded, and she went on. "If Ah were gonna stay, would ya object?"

"I told y', chère. I want y' t' stay."

"Why, then?"

Gambit tensed slightly. "Why?" he repeated.

"Yeah. Why?"

He looked away and began searching his trenchcoat for another cigarette. "Look, chère…" He found one of the things and lit it up, drawing on it liberally. "I care 'bout y'. Y' gotta realize dat, if only dat." He exhaled slowly. "I made lots of mistakes wit' y', but…I never lied. It was de God honest truth wha' Ah told y' de last time we spoke. Dis…I feel somet'ing real for y', girl. Dis ain't no game. I wanted another shot…I wanted t' make it up t' y'." He drew on his cigarette again. "Wanted t' make it righ'. Didn't wanna screw up again. I still feel dat, too. Rogue…y' d' firs' femme in m' life dat makes me feel human. Y' can look me in de eye wit'out flinchin'. Y' accept what I've done…" He looked away, at the foyer again. "Bet dat's one of de t'ings Buckethead fell in love wit', too. De way y' can see de worst in a man, but y' make him still feel like a man despite it, chère."

Rogue sighed. This wasn't good – she needed answers, not heartfelt declarations. This was supposed to be nothing but an impartial weighing of options, dammit. "An' now, Gambit? Ya know what Ah feel…where mah heart is. What if Ah stayed now?"

"Den why would y' stay, if y' heart's elsewhere?"

"There's quite a few good reasons ta stay. Ah need somethin' ta help push the scales one way or the other."

"Well…jus' 'cause y' don't want Remy no more, doesn't mean Remy don't want y'."

Rogue shook her head at that. "If ya got me ag'in, we'd fall back inta old ways – Ah'd spend all mah time cryin', an' you'd be with every other woman but me."

"Ouch, chère."

"Tell me it ain't true, then." When he said nothing, Rogue sighed. She sank down to sit on the stair behind her. "We're two very different people, Remy," she told him. "Ya need touch, an' Ah was too naïve ta know why. Ah thought it wouldn't matter, if there was enough of everythin' else."

"It should be enough, shouldn't it?" Gambit asked bitterly, glaring down at his worn-out boots.

"Ah don't know," Rogue replied honestly. "Ah'm still naïve. Maybe it is enough for some, but Ah couldn't tell ya. Ah'm only just now findin' out all the particulars of this whole 'love' thing, as it is."

"Wha' d' y' make of de game so far, chère?"

"It sure ain't for kids, that's all Ah know."

Gambit snorted and flicked another cigarette butt into the potted plant nearest him. "Sure ain't," he agreed.

A long silence – not nearly so strained at the first two between them – settled. Further down the hallway behind Rogue someone coughed in their sleep loudly: another person muttered something in their dream. There was the slight sound of a floorboard creaking – the house was still settling. Gambit shifted in the silence, and the surprisingly loud, creasing folds of his trenchcoat made him wince at the way it cut through the quiet. Rogue smiled and dropped her head down to look at her scuffed-up trainers. There was still one more thing she really wanted to know, but Gambit – surprisingly – broke through the silence first.

"Dis ain't…dis ain't de way I t'ought we'd end, chère," he admitted. "I really t'ought I could get it righ' for once."

Guilt flickered at the back of Rogue's mind but she clamped down on it. That was almost resolved, now. The guilt was evenly distributed between the two of them – both shouldering the blame for not being able to work it out. "Ah'm sure the reason why it didn't work is just personal differences, Remy," she assured him. She smiled up at him, slightly. "Ah really do still care 'bout ya. Just…"

"Dere's Magneto, now."

He sounded bitter, and it was justifiable, but with the guilt that Rogue was already feeling it was just the thing that opened the lid on her perpetually simmering anger. "Just like there was always your ever-broadening, ever-changin' harem…" she bit off, letting the sentence trail away unfinished.

"Hey, now…"

"Gambit, Magneto's not the reason we're no good. Neither are the women ya like ta spend ya nights with," she told him as she got to her feet. "We were never any good. We were convenient. You had a girl who ya didn't mind actually talkin' to, an' Ah had a guy who made me feel like Ah wasn't a leper. It'd have been great if Ah could touch people without barriers, or if ya didn't have such a demandin' sex drive. But that's how things are. This isn't about 'givin' up', like ya said it was over a month ago. There's a pretty big difference between quittin' at the finish line an' floggin' a dead horse."

"Huh." Gambit levered himself away from the wall and began to walk up the steps to her. "Ain't dat funny, chère? Y' mention a dead horse, an' now all I can t'ink of is y' new beau."

"Oh, for God's sakes…" Rogue turned away and started up the stairs. It'd been going so well; it'd looked like they could've left the conversation on reasonably good terms…then she had to open her big fat mouth. "We're back ta preschool puns and sexual innuendoes, are we? That's great. Y'see, this is another thing, Gambit. For every step of progress we ever made, we'd take another five steps back."

"I'm not de one dat got all defensive all of a sudden," Gambit interjected. "Y' bring up de t'ings I did wrong…I'm gonna return de favor, girl."

Rage surged through her every limb. She spun around, almost colliding right into Gambit's chest and…smack! She hauled back and slapped him right across the face. He stumbled back into the wall, more than a little surprised at her sudden turn but not actually seriously hurt. Rogue, on the other hand, remained perfectly still with her stinging right palm now pressed against her left shoulder, trying to hide the fact that her breathing was now very shallow. "Don't ya ever…ever try cheapen what Ah feel by comparin' mah relationship with Magneto ta…ta the time ya spent with those…" She drew in a deep, steadying breath. She was so angry she couldn't even find the right words to say.

Gambit steadied himself. "Violence, chère? Where'd y' pick dat up?" He leaned in close to her, regardless of the rising red mark on his left cheek. "Dis some kinda new rough play dat y' picked up?"

The dampening cool of embarrassment now flared low in her stomach, cooling her rage but not her vindictiveness. She leaned into Gambit, just as he did her, until her lips were mere fractions of an inch away from his ear. "Not that Ah'd share such experiences with you, Gambit. But Ah have picked up quite a bit, now that ya mentioned it. Magneto's more than willin' ta fill me in on all that Ah've missed out on these long, untouched years…" She deliberately slid her right hand over from her left shoulder to caress her collarbone sensuously, just in Gambit's field of vision.

He caught her wrist and forced her hand down to her side. "Real nice, chère. Mock me. Show me just how much de woman I love desires another."

Rogue tried to pull her hand out of his grip but failed. "Ah'd show ya, alright. Ya spent enough time showin' me just how undesirable Ah was ta you!"

"Unattainable, not undesirable." Something in his eyes shifted, and his free hand began to toy with a lock of her hair. "Dere's a difference between wha' I can't have an' wha' I don't want at all…"

"It ain't like ya to just give up," she snarled, throwing more of his words from their last conversation at him.

He glared. "Ain't dat de truth."

Rogue finally extracted her hand out of his. "Yeah, Ah guess it is the truth, huh?" She folded her arms over her middle and glared back at him. "Too bad the choice isn't yours anymore, Gambit. Ah'm still unattainable to ya – even more so than before."

"So we're both stuck, chère. I'm stuck wit'out de woman I want; you're stuck wit' Magneto – de only person in de world who could touch y'."

"The only person in the world with the brains and means ta find a way around mah power," Rogue retaliated quickly, still snarling at him in fury.

"Like y'd give anyone else a chance …"

"Geez, Cajun. Of course Ah'm not gonna give anyone else a chance now! Ah'm happy with Magneto!"

"An' who wouldn't be happy wit' someone fifty years older than dem, wit' more issues den de boys in de mental homes. Merde, girl! His children are…what? Six months younger den y'? If y' want someone in dat family, go find Quicksilver. He looks enough like his daddy, doesn't he?"

"Are ya even listenin' ta me? Ah'm happy with Magneto." Rogue began storming up the stairs again. "Maybe that's the problem. Is it? Ya just can't stand the idea that the girl ya want would rather have a man old enough ta remember the Great Depression, instead of you? Is that it?" She laughed humorlessly, bitterly and shook her head. "Oh, Gawd. Listen ta me. Ah'm back ta those stupid adolescent insults ag'in. Here Ah thought we'd finally worked past this. Ah thought – idiot that Ah am – that maybe Ah could find a good reason ta stay if Ah talked to ya! Shows how wrong a girl can be, doesn't it…?"

Her shoulders were seized; Gambit wrenched her around at the top step and held her in place. "A reason, chère? Everyt'ing I got's not enough, den?"

"Not when it comes with guilt, unworthiness an' inadequacies," Rogue threw back, struggling against him. But he refused to let her go, holding her until she ran out of energy and slumped in his grip.

"Y' calmed down yet?"

Rogue sighed heavily and folded her arms. She nodded, and was released. "Ah don't get it, Remy," she said miserably. She stared up at him. "Why pick the girl ya can't touch? Why didn't ya give ya heart to a girl who could make ya happy? One of those blonde girls ya like ta touch so damn much? Gawd…even Kitty or Jean would appreciate ya more than Ah could."

"I don't want dem, Rogue." He smiled just slightly. "Couldn't have 'em, anyway. Jean's got de Boy Scout monitorin' her, an' de Kitty's jailbait."

She shook her head at him, smiling miserably. "Ya can't have me, either. Not before, when we were datin'. Not now, especially."

"I had somet'ing." He moved to grasp her hands again, then stopped himself and folded his arms over his chest. "I had y' heart, didn't I? Sure t'ought I did, wit' de way y' made me feel back den."

"Ya had somethin'," Rogue agreed.

"An' I screwed it up."

"No…that's wasn't just you." She smiled a little more sincerely now. "C'mon, Remy. Ah started this out tellin' ya how the blame for the end of this isn't anywhere but on the both of us. We're just…"

"Two different people…" Remy started looking for a third cigarette now. "Dat doesn't make it any easier ta live wit', y' know."

"Yeah." Rogue leaned against the balustrade and hugged her arms around her middle. "Gawd, we're dysfunctional, though. Ah've lost track of how often this has gone from an argument, to a heartfelt admission of feelin's, an' then back ag'in." She shook her head and glanced up at Gambit as he secured that elusive third cigarette. "We just suck, huh?"

"Well, not me personally, but I won't discourage it if you do, chère…" Gambit, midway through pulling a cigarette from it's packet, closed his eyes. "Bad innuendo."

Rogue snickered. "Oh, yeah."

"Particularly since de chances dat I'll be on de receivin' end of…look, I'm gonna shut up now."

"That's prob'ly the best course of action."

"If we're gonna stay friendly, yeah."

Rogue's smile dwindled as she watched him fumble for his lighter, while a long-burning question in her mind came back to the forefront. "Remy…?" She cleared her throat. "Ah'm…sorry. Ah didn't want it ta go ta pieces. Especially not this way."

Gambit nodded. "Y' already made up y' mind, t'ough. Dere's no turnin' back."

"Wha'?"

He flipped the lid back from his lighter and struck up a flame. "Chère, I'd be happy t' try ag'in. I made dat clear, I t'ought." He shrugged and flipped the lid onto the lighter again, putting out the flame. "Hell, I'd like t' have a real say in whet'er or not y' stay. But dat ain't m' call anymore."

"Wait…wha'?"

Gambit shrugged and leaned against the wall again, pocketing the lighter as he went. "It's your decision, chère," he told her, staring at her intently in a way that conveyed no expression whatsoever. The only indication of his discomfort was his right hand, clenching around his unlit cigarette, ruining it. He didn't seem to notice. "If I start tellin' y' what t' do, I'll lose y'. Can't do dat."

Rogue blinked at him, disbelieving. "It's not about winnin' or losin', Cajun," she told him with visible patience. "Ah didn't ask ya to start tellin' me what ta do, either! Ah wanted ta know if ya could deal with me stayin' on, if that's what Ah chose! Ah wanted ta know how ya feel!"

"Told y' already," he replied, now crumbling the cigarette in his hands into a mess of tobacco and thin paper. "I feel somet'ing for y', Rogue."

"Not that," she said, exasperated. "Am Ah so far gone from the path, Gambit? Am Ah worth forgiveness? Can Ah count on ya not makin' me feel alienated from the X-Men? How d'you, as an X-Man, feel about what Ah've done?"

"How d' I feel, chère? As an X-Man?" He dusted his hands of the ruined cigarette and began to search his pockets for a new one. "Pretty damn betrayed, really."

Rogue bit down on her bottom lip. "Right." She ran her gloved hands through her hair. "Right," she repeated. "Betrayed. Now ya know the feelin'."

"Chère…"

She waved him off and turned away, ascending the remaining few stairs, quickly slipping through the hallway and into her room. There, she quietly turned the lock on the door and – after casting a look at Kitty to make sure she hadn't woken the girl up – she crossed the darkened room to the balcony doors. She pried one open carefully and snuck out, closing it shut behind her with a click. There, on the cold carved stone, she sat with her back against the white brick exterior of the mansion, her legs tucking up so that her chin rested on her knees. She wrapped her arms around her legs and stared out at the grounds through the small gaps in the balcony fence.

Betrayed.

The word rang in her mind. She knew that was how some of the others felt – Scott made that abundantly clear in his incessant glaring – but to hear that from him… It made her feel worse, all the more out of place, now. He felt betrayed – the King of Deceit felt betrayed by her, by her one indiscretion that had, by no fault of hers, become something so much deeper and important than what it was originally intended to be. The 'indiscretion' that was quickly becoming the only comfort in her waking hours…

She drew in a deep breath and straightened herself. She couldn't think like this – it was irrational, too emotional. She needed to have a clear head when she made her decision. Gambit wanted her to remain, even if only for the wrong reasons – he just had a crappy way with words and bore a strong grudge. With time, he'd get over it. The others would, too.

…But only if she gave up all contact with Magneto. That was the catch, wasn't it? They didn't say it, but staying with them would mean that her liaisons with Magneto could no longer take place – even if she didn't wind up leaving, she still fully intended to see him. For as long as he still wanted her…she'd promised him that once, hadn't she? Yes, she had…after their first night together, actually. She could even remember her words. "As long as ya want me, Ah'm here," she repeated to the empty air.

However, the same vow stood for the X-Men, as far as she was concerned. As long as she could find a place there, she couldn't comfortably leave them.

So…she just had to carefully look at the niche she had once occupied…and determine if it was still there.

"Won't figure that out tonight," she said restlessly. She was too emotional and besides, it would have to be well past midnight. She was drained, exhausted from that confrontation with Gambit.

Tomorrow, and for what remained of the week…she would slowly piece together her decision.

A/N: I hope that was satisfactory. Anyway – REVIEW TIME!

ishandahalf: Holy I really didn't mean to keep everyone waiting for this long, Batman! (Isn't this fun!) Slightly off-topic here, but when you mention twitchiness I can't help but think of Tweak from South Park. You know, the highly-caffeinated, paranoid kid? Well, you'd know who he was if you watched it. It's one of those shows you either love or you hate. Anyway…you'll notice that the events in Gambit's absence isn't touched on – Rogue must know better than to ask now. That's my theory on things. Hope you liked the much-anticipated Gambit Confrontation(TM!) by the way. I'm kind of sad that it's over, but only because it was fun to keep churning ideas in my head about ways she could totally own his butt with witty retaliations. Surprisingly, there turned out to be fewer smartass remarks and cutting innuendoes than I expected. Hm. Oh well. I'm glad you liked the way I handled the Wolvie bit, by the way. I felt they needed closure of the happy kind, with just a little undertone of 'what the hell were you thinking!' left to slightly mar it so that it's not perfect. Or something. I don't know. Here, have a tidbit of a preview, to take attention away from the fact that I've begun rambling now: '"So that's why you had all the kids start meditation with Storm."

"Indeed. It assured them that their innermost secrets would remain so, should the need ever arise for me to see inside their minds."

"Also makes sure you don't see…"

"Please do not finish that sentence."

Wolverine made a disgusted face. "I wasn't gonna say anything like that, God dammit. You think I wanna talk about what your old buddy gets up to with Stripes? The girl's like a kid sister ta me."

"I'm aware. I trust, also, that you would have told her as much?"'

thriller: That's a pretty good reason to keep a name. You'd get many questions about it when reviewing stories in other fandoms. I've decided, by the way, which direction Rogue's going to go in…but I'm going to be evil and keep her vague until the very, very end. Seriously, she won't be giving a decisive answer until a long, suspenseful conversation with Magneto. Tee hee! Anyway, I've attempted to fill the Romy fan service quota here, but I don't know if I succeeded. The conversation wound up with them bitter at each other, like so many other occasions in fan fics all over this site. Oh well. Better than nothing, right? Anyhoo, thanks for the feedback and I hope you enjoyed this happy little chappie!

Elle Mooreside: It's an absolute miracle, isn't it? I can hardly believe I managed to update either. :) Funny that you should say that Cortez is going to get slammed into a wall, because that might just happen if the sequel I'm hoping to write sees fruition. Hurrah for the angry, irrational Magneto! Anyway. There was no actual screaming in this confrontation, unfortunately – there were raised voices, of course, but…well, they might both be hotheaded but they wouldn't want to draw attention to this argument, would they? But the outcome is a bit subjective, isn't it? It depends on how you want to interpret it, really. It'll be interesting to see how that comes out. Well, thanks for the feedback and the cannoli-thingies. Hope to hear from you again!

willowaus: That would be an ideal situation, if Wolverine, Kitty and Kurt were willing to leave with Rogue, but I can't really see that happening. Unfortunately. Besides, Magneto probably wouldn't go for it, despite how liberal I'm portraying him here. He'd sooner twist Wolverine into a pretzel than let the Canuck tag along and begin monitoring Rogue's every movement, I'd think. Thank you for the affirming comments regarding the conversation – it's surprisingly hard to write the dialogue of a man who's so monosyllabic. :) Thank you also for the enthusiastic response to the concept of a sequel. I'm excited about it too. I've already got a good chronology set up in my head…but there's still a long way to go. Anyhoo, thanks for the review and I hope you enjoyed the chapter!

Christina: Unfortunately for me, it wasn't so much an actual 'life' (i.e.: a social life) that got in the way of my updating as it was a lack of input from other parties in securing a house for the rest of the year, not to mention very little help in packing to move or disconnecting the utilities at our previous residence and having them brought with us to our current abode…ahem. Yes, I'm bitter. My boyfriend is – in some ways – lazier than me, which is an amazing feat, I can assure you. :) Anyway. I love that phrase you used there – thought provoking thoughts. I love internal monologues. In the end, really, they get nothing solved until they're made into actual verbal communication. Well, thanks for the review and input. I hope she ends up with Magneto as well… :D

GWFreak315: Aw, you aren't on the uptake late at all – in fact, I'm being prompted into a sequel which should become more than mere speculation and ideas in a matter of days. The tragic ending your desiring might just feature there. And I'm glad to see I've put a little 'shake' into your Romy-lovin'. I used to be die-hard about that pairing too, but…something changed. Dunno what, but there you have it. And sorry, but those two ain't getting back together for all the tea in China, even if Rogue winds up staying with the X-Men. Thankies for the compliments re: my writing style and I hope to hear from you again! See you on the flip side, Sparky.