Gambit's powers still had not worn off by the time Rogue arose the next day. She had spent most of the previous afternoon at his bedside, but he had given no sign of stirring. Eventually, Hank had encouraged her to go and get some sleep, but she had spent a restless night in her room, unable to close her eyes without seeing leering yellow ones or warm red ones haunting her dreams. She also felt charged with a strange kind of energy, which she realised must come from Gambit's stolen powers. Rising at a ridiculously early hour, deciding that sleep was unlikely to come to her that night, she peered out of the bedroom window, but it was still too dark outside to see anything. Giving up any thoughts of rest, she was pleased to find she could at least comb out her hair without exploding the brush, as she learned to control the new abilities. She just found herself praying that they wouldn't be permanent... She donned her uniform, deciding that she wanted to be ready to do battle if needed. She made her way through to the kitchen, where she put the coffee on to brew, yawning and stretching.

"You couldn't sleep either?"

The voice made her jump and she whipped around, one hand going to her chest. Logan held his hands up in mock surrender.

"Sorry," he apologised, "didn't mean ta startle ya."

"Mah fault," Rogue shook her head, turning back to the coffee pot, watching as it dripped slowly through the filter, gradually filling up, "ah was miles away."

"Heard what happened to the Cajun," Wolverine grunted, opening the 'fridge to assess the contents with a critical eye, "he gonna be okay?"

"Ah hope so," Rogue said, sadly, "Hank says ta jus' give him time..."

"He'll pull through," Logan said, gruffly, sensing her dismay as he began to prepare himself a sandwich, "nothin' seems to keep Gumbo down for long... 'cept maybe pine trees."

She huffed a small laugh at his attempt at humour, recalling their ill-fated skiing trip, realising that he was just trying, in his own way, to cheer her up.

"Ah hope so," she nodded, stifling another yawn, "ah'm so damn tired, but ah jus' can't sleep... keep seein' those awful yellow eyes... an' they remind me far too much of Mystique."

She almost spat her foster mother's name in revulsion, and Logan quirked an eyebrow.

"Ya don't think they're related, do ya? Wouldn't be the first mutant brat she'd whelped and given up... no offence."

"None taken – she's not my real momma," Rogue shrugged, "an' Nightcrawler can just... turn hisself into smoke, I guess. Family resemblance? Ah dunno, Logan. Jus' somethin' about them eyes, it's like she's hauntin' me..."

Feel the darknesssssss...

Rogue stiffened, straightening up; Logan did exactly the same, growling low in the back of his throat as his hands curled into fists, claws unsheathing.

"Did you hear that?" Rogue whispered, her eyes widening.

Feel the dessssssspair...

"Damn, she's close," Logan growled, "can't smell her, though..."

Feel the pain... the lossssss...

"You don't think she's in the house, do ya?" Rogue's fear ramped up another notch.

Feel the void... the eternal, sucking void... the coldnesssssss...

"Dunno," Wolverine turned, trying to identify the source of the voice, "feels like... this way. Come with me."

You are empty... you are alone... you are unloved... you are enveloped by the nothingnesssssss...

"Oh, Logan, ah don't know – maybe we should wake the others..."

Wolverine stepped out into the corridor, and punched the nearest fire alarm. The wailing siren immediately howled throughout the building.

"They're awake," he told her, "now come on!"

You're so tired... so empty... sssso scared...

"This way!" Logan ran towards the front entrance, and then skidded to a halt, Rogue almost crashing into him.

"Oh, no..."

The main entrance to the mansion stood partially open, the door creaking in an imperceptible breeze, as Logan and Rogue exchanged horrified glances. Wolverine immediately slapped a hand onto the nearest intercom.

"Intruder on base!" he shouted into it, "Repeat; intruder on base – it's Miasma!"

"Logan, ah think she's in the lower levels..." Rogue told him, tremulously, "we gotta get down there..."

"I've got her scent – follow me!"

The two of them sprinted through the mansion corridors, as the alarm went up around the house above them; the others jolting from their beds and scrambling to get into their uniforms. As Rogue followed Wolverine, her heart sank in her chest. They were heading straight for the medical bay...

"Gambit!" she exclaimed, launching herself through the doors, and then abruptly stopped, Logan at her side.

Gambit lay unmoving on the bed, attached to an intravenous drip and a cardiac monitor, which beeped slowly and somewhat erratically in the background. At the bedside, a billowing cloud of oily purple-black smoke glittered and slowly coalesced into a vaguely humanoid figure, turning yellow eyes in their direction.

On your kneessssssss, foolssssss...

"Not this time, bub," Wolverine growled, "get away from him, or I'm gonna slice ya into smoky ribbons..."

Sssssstupid animal... your claws cannot harm what has no form... Miasma is pain, Miasma is darkness and suffering never ending, and you will ssssurrender to me...

"He said, get away from him," Rogue's eyes narrowed dangerously, as she pulled a playing card from her pocket, "Wolverine's claws may not hurt ya, but these sure seem to..."

Ssssilly little girl... the voice made the hairs on the backs of their necks and arms stand up, sending shivers of goose bumps up their spines as they both fought to maintain their mental blocks, silly little girl with your stolen powers... you are nothing... you wouldn't do anything to harm him, would you... and he'sssss all mine...

"You can't have him!" Rogue yelled, charging and throwing the card.

Miasma screamed, and Logan clapped his hands over his ears, collapsing to his knees; Rogue stayed standing, feeling Gambit's stolen powers coursing through her mind and her veins, lending her an energy she had never felt before. No wonder he had bragged to her before that he had plenty of energy to spare; he hadn't been kidding... Rogue drew another card, as Miasma flickered and surged, coiling her smoky limbs into tentacles, reaching over the bed, wrapping herself over Gambit's prone body. Rogue was vaguely aware of running footsteps behind her; some of the others had finally caught up with them.

"Rogue, no!" Jean's voice cut through her rage as she began to charge the card, "You might hit Gambit!"

"Ah'm gonna teach this murky low-life a lesson she ain't gonna forget," Rogue snapped, "get away from him, you bitch!"

She flung the card, but Miasma dodged, now floating, cloud-like, above the bed. There was a long, high-pitched scream, and then she poured herself downwards... and into Gambit. His back arched and the cardiac monitor went haywire, screeching alarms as he convulsed, the purple-black cloud filling his eyes, nose and mouth, until it was completely absorbed, in front of Rogue's horrified gaze. As Miasma disappeared, Gambit slumped back on the bed, head rolling limply to one side.

"Remy?" Rogue said, in a small voice, hesitantly approaching the bed, "Remy... can ya hear me?"

Slowly, his head turned towards her, and her heart was in her mouth as he gradually opened his eyes. Her hands shot to her mouth in dismay, as she found herself staring in to a pair of glowing yellow orbs.