A/N: Look, pa! A new chapter!

Chapter Eleven: Do What You Gotta Do

The Citadel was dark and empty. There was a vaguely decrepit look to it, though it had been only been several hours since the Mutates had cleared out, taking most of the equipment and supplies there. The lights were dimmed since all power was being focused on the boundaries surrounding Genosha. Whatever was left went to the troops even now boarding boats for transport to the Eastern Australian coast. It would be a "quiet" invasion, with all communication shut down, and all life expendable. The Mutates would take no prisoners.

Phoenix smiled and slowly walked up the stairs to the top floor. She was alone, Cyclops having journeyed to the shores to guide the boats and monitor activity on that end. Phoenix felt that she needed time alone to say goodbye to the great tower equidistant from the surrounding shores of Genosha. She'd instructed the Mutates to abandon the facility. She had no need for such a monstrosity. Fifteen levels of pure phallic overcompensation.

It did have one thing going for it, though, and that was the view from the top. A balcony jutting out of the "Leader's" bedroom, a room Phoenix was familiar with, and a view she was also familiar with. So high in the air, no buildings around, and she could see for miles. To all the shores, she could see. She stepped into the bedroom, crossing to the balcony, ignoring the dried blood stains on the floor where she'd shoved a blade into the "Leader's" body. She knew he wasn't really dead, but the body he'd possessed was. He wouldn't be returning anytime soon, especially when the assassins she'd sent to Lucas's hospital room finished their job.

Phoenix knew Rogue would be surprised when she found out Lucas was really behind the plan, just as Phoenix knew that Rogue had long operated on the suspicion that Xavier was behind all this. Phoenix also knew that Rogue would most likely succeed in her mission to stop the plan that Phoenix had allowed to continue once she'd killed the Leader. It wouldn't hurt her own plans to allow the long-formed one of Lucas's to continue. Nor would it hurt her co-conspirators' plans. Phoenix rarely acted alone, and rarely was so foolish as to let things or people interfere. In point of fact, what Rogue would be doing would actually help Phoenix's plans, though she didn't realize that. Every step and act Phoenix set into motion and did, was carefully calibrated for optimum efficiency. There were no emotional outbursts, no spontaneity, no mistakes.

Phoenix smiled and watched as a bright red flare was set into the air on the western cliff shores of Genosha. An answering blue one appeared on the east. Finally, a green flare from the north. The ships were setting sail. Phoenix slowly rose into the air, hovering with the use of her own telekinetic powers. She had dealings to start, and none of them included this little piss-ant country of Genosha.

There was darkness to her room that she perpetuated, knowing that it made it harder for them to watch her, and not caring the punishment it gathered for her. These days she didn't care about much. It'd been so long since she'd seen her family or friends, so long since she'd seen anyone.


She stood from where she'd knelt in the corner making herself as small as possible, and cracked her back, unwittingly pulling at the stitches that covered it from nape to the dip where her spine ended, just inches above her rear. She didn't know where it'd come from, or why it was there, but late at night, twinges from it kept her awake. She always did her best to spend as much time awake, and old fear reawakened by this imprisonment.

Her cell, as that's what it was, was almost homey. A dresser with fresh clothes, a canopy bed, an en suite bathroom. There was a view from her window, though not much of one, given that she'd always loved cities and disdained camping or country outings. Everyday, whilst she slept (thus another reason she so rarely did it), someone would come in and remove the soiled clothes, the ones that she changed so infrequently, not trusting anyone or anything. What made the room even homier was the slot in the door through which they gave her food, as well as the bars that only mildly disrupted the view.

Pretty and comfortable as that room was, with its settee and bookcase of books, it was still a cell, just a mildly better one than average.

Rogue would spend three months in that room.

The corridors of Avalon reminded Rogue of the Citadel, with it's own winding and curving halls that went on forever. It was rumored that if one walked from the beginning of the first hall on the bottom floor, you'd eventually end up at the Leader's quarters on the top. However whimsical that is, Mutates were too pragmatic to do such a thing, and took the stairs or elevators for traveling through the Citadel.

It also reminded her of the cloying claustrophobia (or was it panic?) that frequently simmered under any periods of time she spent there. Rogue had hated that ivory tower with every fiber of her being, and once this was all over, she would ensure that it was taken down, even if she had to do it piece by piece.

She strode down some random corridor, searching for what, she didn't know. Goddamn mutants. Think they know so much. She ranted to herself on the intricacies of mutant mental power, or rather lack there of, and continued to storm about. So lost in her thoughts and rantings was she, that she didn't notice the figure in front of her until she was a foot from it, or rather, him. Instinctively her body froze at the sense of nearness of an imprinted being, her subconscious spinning in her mind and drawing the imprint of that person to the forefront, analytical training forced onto her activating and spilling information into her conscious mind.

Gambit; Remy LeBeau; kinetic tactile dispersion, level beta; known affiliations: Dr. Sinister, Morlocks, New Orleans Thief Guild, X-Men, Acolytes; current affiliation: X-Force; identifying marks: red on black eyes, tattoo on upper left shoulder (king of hearts playing card overlapping the ace of spades), birthmark on left arm (pink in the shape of a heart)...

Rogue knew that there were more details of his life lurking in her mind from the several times she's imprinted him, but she cut off the diatribe after that. Sometimes the psyches in her head were irritating, but more often they reminded her of the aloofness of her existence. She could and most likely was, one of the most powerful mutants on Earth (or in this case, in space), and would always be aware of that. She was Alpha. Tops. A-one! Woot woot.

Gambit stared down at her with no emotion, okay, except for the perpetual smirk. His eyes roamed up and down her body, encased in a green Lycra bodysuit, her traditional mutate garb. "Where you headin' to, chère?"

"Ah feel the urge to exercise. Ya got a gym on this boat?"

"We got somet'in' better."

Gambit held out his arm chivalrously, and Rogue took it with a small smile. They walked several hallways over, and stood before two large double doors. They gave Rogue a vague sense of déjà vu, and so, with a smirk, she asked, "Danger Room?"

"We call it de 'Simulation Room' now, Mr. Xavier no like it to be considered dangerous. He been t'inking dese last few years dat perhaps he was too hard on y'all, dat he might have driven y'all away wit' his manner."

Rogue laughed. "He wasn't hard on us. Nowhere near it. Ya want hard, ya should try the Genosha Militia Camp. That's hard."

Gambit smiled, appreciating the beauty that became even clearer when she smiled. "You know dat, chère, and Remy know dat, but de professor, he don' know dat."

Rogue ran a small, but scarred hand down the doorframe, before turning back to Gambit. "Ya goin' to open the doors, sugah, or am Ah gonna have to pry 'em open?"

Gambit shrugged and entered his code into the door, carefully negotiating his body so that she couldn't see it, never quite trusting anyone. It really was futile though, Rogue knew, because with her mental powers and/or senses she could easily pick the number from his head, or use sensory association to pick the sequence directly off the keypad.

Inside, deeply contrasted against the large cavernous room that had been the Danger Room, was a small room, almost perfect in proportions. On the walls were panels that Rogue's superior eyesight identified as the latest in virtual/microwave-constructed technology. It depended on rays of light to provide image, and at the same time microwaves producing mid-air confined waves to provide some substance. It meant that basically, you could do battle with a fully solid (mostly) image or go through it completely, depending on the frequency and severity of the waves.

Gambit casually strolled over to the controls set next to the wall, keeping his eyes trained on her at all times. He didn't trust her, not really, but then again, he never trusted anyone completely. Even given the recent revelations of her plans, and the consequences, he didn't truly believe she was as heartless as she appeared. That, more than anything, urged him to seek her out, to find the truth nestled within those beautiful, but cold eyes.

Rogue stretched her arms above her head, as around her a deep and steamy jungle appeared. At the same time, scantily clad jungle women appeared, carrying bowls of fruit and cooked meat. There were no smells to accompany the scene, but just the images reminded Rogue of how hungry she was, and had her salivating.

She smirked evilly and threw a disdaining look over her shoulder at Gambit. "Ya own personal program, Remy?"

"Only de best."

The jungle women caught sight of Remy and practically fell out of their tops with glee. Even as they started for him, bosoms heaving and long dark hair falling over one eye (on all five of them), Rogue stepped over to the panel and hit the bright red cancel button. The scene vanished.

"Ah was thinking something a bit more combative. Ah'm not used to this high life of yours. Ah like things grittier."

Gambit stepped close, those scant four inches he had on her seeming more like miles as he stared down at her, his eyes sultry. "Rogue likes it dirty, does she?"

"Rogue likes it violent, she does," Rogue replied glibly, not letting those experienced, but practiced, bedroom eyes fall by the wayside.

Gambit reached over her shoulder for the panel, and instinctively she jerked to the side, out of his way and his touch. Last night, she'd let him a lot more close than that, but he knew that this wasn't personal. She was on edge right now, not comfortable with herself or her surroundings. He reasoned that the blow to his ego over her not wanting him to touch her was just foolish, and ignored it.

With a few taps of his fingers, he had a city scene forming around them, and about thirty ninjas (cliché, he knew, but what better to fight in a dingy alley on the wrong side of Chinatown than ninjas?) surrounding them. Rogue eased her feet apart, her hands lightly balled at her sides, but her eyes rapidly moving about the scene, counting and planning. Gambit lazily drew a deck of cards from his pocket, but Rogue placed a hand on his wrist, shaking her head. "No powers."

"Why not?"

"Where's the fun in that?"

"Dis program is intended for mutants to use deir abilities, chere."

"Even better. Ah'll really kick ass then."

Gambit shrugged, and put the cards back, taking off his trench-coat as he did so. Rogue allowed herself a brief look at his toned chest, clear but hidden by a tight wife-beater, and focused on the game ahead of her.

The scene was frozen, obviously waiting for the real participants to move and start the simulation. Rogue stepped forward and without warning lashed out with a high kick, sending one of many ninjas into a wall, where it landed with a sickening thud.

"You don' really care for warming up, chere."

"What's the fun in that?" Rogue repeated, even as she launched into a handstand, using her feet to pummel two ninjas coming at her with nun-chucks in the head, and to twist their necks in a smooth little move involving her feet moving in opposite directions whilst holding their heads.

"Does dis mean Remy don' have to do foreplay?"

Rogue choked, and ignored the question, preferring to focus on some down and dirty boxing with three of the simulations. Two hard rights, and an uppercut that rivaled Roy Jones Jr. later, Rogue was setting back on her heels to watch as Remy used vaguely Asian martial art flavored kicks to take down five ninjas. Even as he panted and lunged, he made the effort to make quips.

"Remy like foreplay, chere."

"He bet you like him giving it."

"How about after this-"

"Shut up, Remy."

Rogue turned to the remaining ten ninjas, watching as they circled her, glaring menacingly from their cowls. She smiled menacingly in return, and slipped into combat stance.

They rush her at once, and though the first two took her down, a quick pinch of a neck pulse point had them both down. She flipped back onto her feet, and quickly bent over backwards, out of the way of a high kick. She used her momentum to carry over onto a back flip, hitting her opponent under his chin, and sending him flying onto the growing pile of incapacitated bodies near the wall. She grinned with satisfaction as a loud thunk meant he hit his head.

Gambit had taken down five of the other ninjas, meaning that there were two left. She and Gambit back up until their backs hit each other's and they rotated around, staring at the two ninjas who also circled them. As one, they lunged, Gambit using momentum to hit the ninja mid-chest and take him down that way. Rogue just hit the ninja in the head, and if it's been alive, probably decapitated him. Had she mentioned yet that she loved violence?

She stood, panting, adrenaline running through her system, and enjoyed the endorphins rushing about inside. Her mind was racing, and her heart thumping, all of which made her feel foolish and invincible. For a few seconds, she forgot why she was here, what she was doing, and how important it was.

Rogue turned to Gambit, who was standing as well, and grinned. "So are we fucking or what?"