Rogue woke from the nap to discover the cookie and the king of hearts on the nightstand. Starved, she snatched it up greedily. The doctor's cookies were to be hoarded, she knew. It was gone in a few bites and she laid back down, smiling despite herself. She studied the card. So Remy had visited, she thought, glad she had slept through the visit. She wasn't quite sure how to handle herself around him; she wasn't sure she could. Embarrassment and attraction were causing yet another conflict in her head.
The clock on the wall read ten-thirty p.m. It seemed years since she had struck out from the Institute, and yet it was only a day later. She felt rested, despite the aches from her injuries. She closed her eyes briefly, and opened them again at the "whoosh" of the Med Room doors. It was a little late for visitors, but she wasn't surprised at the figure in the door. "Ah was wonderin' when you'd be swingin' by," she said dryly.
"I'm glad to see you safe, Rogue." The professor wheeled over to the side of the bed.
"Thanks." She paused for a minute, fiddling with the sheet. "Ah'm sorry Ah caused so much trouble."
"Was that your intention when you left?"
Her brow furrowed in confusion. "Of course not. Ah just wanted to get away from things for a little while."
"Running away rarely solves things, Rogue."
"Ah wasn't runnin' away. Ah just needed a little space. Logan does it all the time – do you give him this lecture?"
"Logan leaves to find answers about his missing time. You left to avoid facing your problems – and that is a textbook definition of running away."
Shamed, she played with the sheet some more. "Ah'm sorry. Am Ah gonna be punished?"
"Your actions have consequences, Rogue. That's one of the key things we try to teach students here at the Institute. Your behavior does not occur in a vacuum."
"So Ah'm bein' punished."
"You're receiving consequences."
"That's just a fancy word for punishment." She crossed her arms over her chest and sulked.
"You're not to leave the grounds of the mansion for a month, save for missions." She scowled at that, but didn't say anything. "You're doubling up on Danger Room sessions – you'll meet with Logan twice a day until he says otherwise." Her scowl deepened. "We're going to increase our sessions together as well – we'll be meeting every morning whether you feel up to it or not. I believe it is critical that you increase the rate at which you're processing the personalities you've absorbed. And you're done hiding in your room. I'm taking the lock off the door and you will be joining the team for dinner every night. I don't care if Jean and I have to transport you telekinetically."
"But—" she sputtered, wincing as she shot up. The professor merely held up a hand and continued.
"We have allowed you to isolate yourself for long enough, Rogue. I have given you the opportunity to cope with recent events on your own, as you requested. You clearly have not done that. Now you've been targeted by someone for unknown purposes, though I'm certain the interest in you is not benign. I will not permit you to endanger yourself, or the team, any further."
"Nobody was in any danger today!"
"Because Gambit happened to intervene. What if your abductors had succeeded, and the team had to rescue you from someone significantly more hostile?"
She ducked her head. "Ah'm sorry. But to take the locks off – Kitty needs privacy too," she said, desperation creeping into her voice.
He raised an eyebrow. "Kitty is one of the least private people in the Institute. But I'm sure she'll be touched by your concern."
"That's me, all concern and consideration." She settled back in the bed, wincing again at the pain in her side.
"How are you feeling now?"
"Okay. Mah side hurts, but Dr. McCoy said no painkillers for a while longer."
"I'm sorry. You were very fortunate."
"Ah know."
"You should know, Rogue, that I have invited Gambit to stay at Institute indefinitely." He watched her closely.
"What? Remy's joinin' the X-Men?" She was stunned, and appalled. Lying in bed, she had been mortified to remember her behavior at his apartment. "You're kiddin', right?"
"I did not invite him to join the X-Men. I merely told him that we were grateful to him for helping you, and offered to let him stay here for as long as he likes."
"I don't get it. Why would you do that?"
"I thought it would be good for you to have him around. Both Jean and Scott felt that the two of you had made some sort of connection."
Heat flared in her cheeks. "He helped me out, but that doesn't mean we have some sort of…thing…goin' on. And Ah'm not a charity case. Ah can make mah own friends."
The professor chuckled inwardly. Scott's stammering description of the scene at the apartment had hinted something was indeed going on, and she was still wearing the necklace Jean had mentioned. "I didn't mean to suggest that, Rogue. But I thought it might be nice for you to have a friend here."
"He ain't my friend," she protested. She didn't know what he was. But "friend" was not the word that sprang to mind when she pictured him.
"Not yet. Friendship takes time. But I will say that he seems genuinely concerned about you."
She shook her head, her mouth twisting into a wry smile. "He's bad news. You're gonna regret doin' this, Ah guarantee it."
"It's funny you should say that. Logan said exactly the same thing when I informed him." She rolled her eyes. "It's late, Rogue. You should get some sleep. Hank says you can go back to your room tomorrow."
She nodded. "Ah'm sorry Ah had you all so worried, Professor."
"It's all right, Rogue." He didn't mention that she was still worrying them. "Good night." He rolled out of the room and she laid back in bed, staring at the ceiling tiles. Remy at the Institute. Gambit, she reminded herself. He was Gambit, not Remy. Whatever had happened in that apartment had been, as she told Kurt, some sort of temporary insanity, a reaction to the drugs and the shock of the situation. He was trouble. She might have shoved his memories to the back of her mind and sealed them off, but she didn't need his memories to know that he was arrogant and wild and completely unreliable. Trouble, she reminded herself, turning the playing card over and over in her hand. And she didn't need any more of that.
She drifted off remembering what it felt like to sleep next to him.
*
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The lone figure approached the Med Room silently. It was after midnight, and he was relieved to see that the soft noise of the automatic doors didn't wake her. There was a small lamp burning on the side table, and he could see the multitude of cuts and bruises. The gash on her forehead was neatly bandaged, but the bruise across her cheekbone was turning an ugly purplish-yellow and looked painful. The chart on the counter outside her room had indicated she had two hairline fractures in her ribs, and several more bruised. She'd be hurting for a while, he knew.
She was shuddering slightly, even in sleep. The whimpers that escaped tore at him. He knew what it was like to be hounded by your nightmares. He hated knowing that many of her dreams were his. And he knew that she had them every night. He could hear her on his nightly rounds, crying out and writhing in fear. It was a good thing Kitty slept like the dead, he thought grimly. Watching Rogue relive those nightmares would ruin anyone's sleep.
He couldn't shake that guilt, and he couldn't help her get rid of the dreams, when he still had them himself. But there were other hurts he could heal. And so he crossed to her and gently brushed back the white locks that had fallen in her face, touching her good cheek lightly with his bare hand. The contact tugged at him, and he stood braced against it for a moment, feeling a piece of him transfer to her, seeing the bruises fade. He moved his hand away and staggered to the chair to recover, watching in wonderment as her breathing eased slightly and the cut along her forehead healed up. She didn't wake.
He waited until he was sure he could walk again, and then left as silently as he had come.
*
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The next morning, Dr. McCoy examined her in amazement. "You're fine," he said, stunned. Your lacerations have healed nicely – you've managed to avoid that scar I mentioned. How are your ribs?"
She ran a tentative hand along her side. "They feel okay. I don't get it."
"Well, a good night's rest can work wonders," he said dubiously. "Go ahead and get dressed, and meet me out in the lab. We'll discuss the rest of your recovery."
She was unsurprised to see Logan and the Professor waiting for her in the lab along with the blue doctor. "So I'm set to go?"
"I don't see why not," said Hank, "But I do think it's quite unusual for injuries such as the ones you've sustained heal so quickly. It's as if you had some sort of latent healing power that manifested itself overnight."
All eyes turned to Logan, who shrugged. "Can she train now?" he asked brusquely, toying with a vial of something on the counter. The Beast snatched it away.
"Give her a day, and start off slowly, but yes, she should be well enough to start running sims again." He looked apologetically at Rogue. Twice-daily sessions with Logan, particularly an angry Logan, were enough to land some students back in the Med Room. He fervently hoped Rogue would not be one of them.
"Rogue," said the Professor. "We'll start our sessions tomorrow, I think. Use today to get settled back in. I believe Kitty is waiting for you." He turned to Hank. "Let's go over that data again, shall we?"
"Certainly, Charles. Rogue, don't hesitate to come back in if you're feeling unwell. And don't overdo it," he warned, sliding a glance at Logan. "I'll check in with you later today."
"Thanks, Dr. McCoy." She gathered her things up slowly, uncertain what she should say to Logan. "Thanks to you, too," she said softly.
"Don't mention it," he said gruffly.
"No, it was really nice—"
He cut her off. "I said don't mention it, kid." he growled again, and stalked out.
Utterly dumbfounded, Rogue sighed heavily and headed back to her room.