No.

"What?" Miasma whipped around, trying to identify where the voice had come from, "Who is there? Who dares challenge me?"

I do.

"Show yourself!"

In here... chère.

Miasma closed the eyelids of the body she occupied, turning her focus inwards. In the mind of the stolen body, she assumed her non-corporeal form, looking this way and that.

You think you can hide in darkness, creature? Miasma is the darkness... I was born in the deepest, darkest despair found only in the minds of humansssss...

"Yeah, well, dis is my mind," Gambit strode out of the darkness, hands in the pockets of his long coat, a trademark smirk on his lips, "an' you ain't welcome here no more."

I have your friendsssss... hurt me, and I will hurt them...

"I know," Gambit inclined his head, "felt it when you invaded their minds. Dat's what woke me – felt Jean connect us all through you. She reconnected me to de part of Gambit dat's still in Rogue. Made me stronger... an' we all in here now..."

Miasma whipped around as from the darkness the other X-Men emerged, surrounding her in a circle; Jean, Cyclops, Storm, Wolverine, Beast and, finally, Rogue, who came to stand beside Gambit.

"Dat was yo' mistake, chère," Gambit told her, "separate, we maybe too weak to do anythin' to you. But wit' all our minds put together... we enough to drive you out fo' good."

You can do nothing to me! I will drain you of all life and love and hope and joy and feeling... there will only be the numb emptiness that makes me stronger...

"Not if we've got anything to say about it," Cyclops shook his head, "we stand together – you cannot defeat us."

He took a step forward, and reached out, grasping Jean's hand. She, in turn, took Wolverine's, who took hold of Storm's, who then held onto Beast, who gripped Rogue's outstretched hand, who finally slipped her hand into Gambit's. They closed the circle around Miasma, who writhed and roiled and twisted, helplessly.

No! You cannot destroy me!

"You exist to be destroyed," Rogue told her, firmly, "Ah know what you are – yer everythin' ah've always hated about myself."

"You are the darkness that exists in all of our souls," Storm agreed, "a nightmare to be overcome, and nothing more."

"Take my hand, chère..." Gambit stretched out his free hand towards her, "let us end dis pain for you."

No! I will feed on your despair!

"Dere ain't no despair in here," Gambit smiled, softly, "not while mes amis stan' wit' me."

The circle stepped forward again, and Gambit reached for Miasma's shifting form. Her yellow eyes widened in horror as his hand wrapped around her throat, suddenly as solid and unyielding as any flesh and blood body.

"I banish you from dis place," he murmured, tightening his grip ever so slightly as she twisted and thrashed ineffectively in his grasp, "go 'way from here, an' don' ever come back..."

With an agonised, despairing howl, Miasma wavered and then... vanished. Her formless body seemed to melt away, evaporating in Gambit's grip, the purple smoke disappearing, melting into the blackness surrounding them. Feeling utterly spent, Gambit pitched to his knees, and the circle broke apart, each of them releasing their hold on each other, melting back into the darkness, until only Jean, Rogue and Gambit remained.

"Gambit," Jean said, softly, "you are falling back into a coma... you are very weak. I do not know how long I can maintain this connection..."

"I know, petite," he replied, raising a hand to his head, "Gambit... so tired..."

"Hang in there, sugar," Rogue dropped to her knees in front of him, cradling his face in both of her hands, lifting his head to meet her gaze, "ya gotta come back to me, ya hear me?"

"Tryin', chère," he tried to raise the ghost of a smile, "jus... so very... tired..."

"We do not have much time, Rogue," Jean murmured, quietly, "I am sorry, without Miasma binding us together I cannot maintain the connection much longer... he is slipping back into unconsciousness."

"Oh, Remy," Rogue embraced him, knowing that her powers could not hurt him – she was just a psychic projection in his mind, after all, "ah'll be waitin' for ya ta wake up... don' keep me waitin' too long, ya hear me?"

"I hear you, chère..."

Rogue felt him melt away in her arms, fading into the darkness. She shut her eyes, tight closed; when she opened them again, there was a hand on her shoulder. She found herself looking in Jean's compassionate gaze, and allowed her friend to fold her into a gentle hug. After a long moment, she climbed to her feet; the medical bay was absolutely devastated, torn apart by the hurricane Storm had summoned in a desperate attempt to dispel their foe. Beast was already picking up one of the hospital beds, righting it and straightening the sheets, before he began to retrieve some of the equipment, picking out the pieces that were, somehow, undamaged.

Gambit lay in a crumpled heap on the floor beside her, Cyclops and Storm both kneeling beside him, Cyclops' fingers pressed to the Cajun's throat, and Rogue felt her heart waver in her chest.

"Is he...?"

"He's alive," Cyclops assured her, then added; "but only just..."

"Let's get him up on the bed," Beast stepped forward, but Rogue waved him back.

"Ah've got him, Hank."

She dropped down on one knee, sliding one arm under Gambit's back, and the other under his knees. With her super strength, she lifted him as if he weighed no more than a feather, cradling him in her arms as she carried him to the bed. She laid him down with the greatest of care, stepping back only enough to allow Beast room to work; keeping one hand resting on the top of Gambit's head, gently combing her fingers through his unruly hair. Beast swiftly re-attached the cardiac monitor, re-inserting the intravenous line into the back of his hand, delivering essential medication in an effort to stabilise his vital signs.

"He's gonna be okay, isn't he, Hank?" Rogue asked quietly, as the others gathered around them.

"Time will tell," Beast replied, evasively, adjusting the flow of medication on the drip, "at least we know his mind is still in there, somewhere..."

"What about Miasma?" Cyclops asked, grimly, "Where did she go?"

"As long as she's gone fer good, I don't care much," Wolverine spat, dismissively, "may not have seen her face before, but I've known plenty of good people who've experienced the kind of misery she inflicts... I hope we never see her like again around here."

There were a few noises of agreement, as they clustered around the bed, each supporting the other as they shook off the lingering effects of Miasma's touch. Eventually, Beast stepped back, surveying the ruined medical bay.

"I am afraid there is nothing more we can do for him now," he said, breaking the silence, "the medical bay, however, could certainly use a few pairs of hands to help tidy up..."

"My apologies, Beast," Storm cast her eye around the wreckage, "I am afraid this is entirely my fault..."

"You were just trying to get rid o' that smoke-witch, sugar," Rogue was the one to leap to her defence, "at least you only broke a few test tubes..."

She angled a meaningful glance down at Gambit, her gloved fingers brushing a stray lock of hair from his forehead.

"Come on," Cyclops gestured to them, "I'm sure if we all chip in, this won't take long..."

With that, they set to work, clearing up the aftermath of their confrontation with their most recent nemesis.

Nobody noticed the thin trail of purple smoke that crept up the wall, and vanished into one of the air ducts.