It was mid-morning when Gambit began to stir. Before he even opened his eyes, he knew he was in his own bed, and he let out a contented sigh, stretching beneath the warmth of the duvet.

"Mornin', sleepy head," said a familiar, playful voice.

Despite the lingering ache in his head, he managed to quirk a smile, as he croaked out; "Gambit died an' gone to heaven if he finally got you in his bed, chère."

"Guess again, Romeo," the amused, Southern-accented voice replied, "ah spent the night in this here armchair."

Rubbing his fingers against his eyes, Gambit finally managed to force them open, groaning only slightly at the stab of pain this sent through his head. He felt the mattress dip slightly as Rogue got up from the armchair and sat beside him on the bed. He turned to face her, blinking, trying to get his blurry vision to focus on her.

"Damn, are you a sight fer sore eyes," she told him, "Ya took yer time wakin' up, Cajun. Was startin' ta think ya weren't gonna..."

"Gambit promised, chère," he said, hoarsely, as he tried to sit up a little, "sorry it took so long..."

Her eyes met his and there was so much unspoken between them, she did not know where to start.

"Remy... what ya did..."

"Aw, don' dwell on it, chère," he told her, closing his eyes briefly at a wave of dizziness, "Gambit knew de risks. Yo' worth it."

She took his left hand in both of hers, rubbing her gloved thumb over his knuckles as he gave her hand a gentle squeeze in return.

"Ya had me worried," she admitted, "ya shouldn't have done... what ya did. But... thanks."

He smiled and then grimaced, raising his free hand to his temple as the headache redoubled. Rogue saw the gesture and she sighed, shaking her head.

"Ya dumb swamp rat," she told him, affectionately, "ya should'a stayed in the med bay – ah think Hank nearly had a heart attack when Logan told him ya'd wandered off..."

"Jus'... needed my own bed, chère," he mumbled, closing his eyes again, "an' coffee... could really do with coffee..."

"Now that ah can help ya with," Rogue smiled, "ah'll go grab us a fresh cup each – an' maybe see if Hank's got somethin' fer that headache o' yours..."

"T'anks," Gambit nodded, slowly, already feeling the fatigue creeping over him again, "dat sounds good..."

"Just do me a favour an' stay put this time!"

"Not a problem, chère..."

Gambit closed his eyes, leaning back against the pillows; he only opened them again when he felt a soft touch on his arm. He blinked, groggily, eventually managing to focus on not only Rogue, but the familiar blue face of Hank McCoy.

"Greetings, my friend," Beast smiled at him, revealing his sharp fangs, "while it pleases me to find you are finally awake, I would have preferred that you remain in the medical suite... however, Rogue has assured me you are willing to stay confined to your own bed for a period of convalescence until you have fully regained your faculties and vigour..."

"He means ya gotta stay put, Cajun," Rogue translated, at his dazed expression, "at least fer now."

"Mhmm..." he hummed, noncommittally, pinching the bridge of his nose as he screwed his eyes shut, "Gambit be fine... jus' as soon as de room stops spinning..."

"Perhaps this will help... if you will allow me?"

Beast held up a syringe and Gambit held out his arm obediently; anything to ease the pounding in his head and the nausea clawing its way up his throat. Beast gently pushed up the sleeve of his black shirt, finding a vein and deftly slipping the needle into his skin.

"This contains an analgesic and an anti-emetic," Beast explained, as he injected the medication, "ideally I would keep you on intravenous medications and fluids, but if you are happy to ensure you stay properly hydrated I will come by to deliver additional medication as necessary throughout the day. I hope you will recuperate faster in your more familiar surroundings than in the medical facilities."

"T'anks, Hank," Gambit nodded, quietly, already feeling the headache ebbing away into something duller and more manageable, "appreciate it."

"Rest now," Beast gently patted his arm, "you gave us all quite the scare. And, if you feel able, I would encourage you to try to eat something later – perhaps just soup and some crackers, given that it has been some time since you processed solid foods."

"Ah'll see if ah can get a meal in him," Rogue promised, setting a mug of coffee down on the bedside cabinet before folding her arms, "we're gonna get ya back on yer feet, sugar, one way or the other."

"Plenty of rest," Beast held up one finger, "I do not want to see you over-exert yourself, Gambit... your condition was critical for a long time. You must allow yourself time to recover."

"Feelin' better already, mon amis," Gambit managed a ghost of his trademark smirk, even as he shivered a little, rolling his sleeve down, "t'ank you, Hank."

"You are most welcome," Beast smiled, fondly, "now, I will leave you to your rest. Please do not hesitate to call if you need anything."

He ambled away, and Rogue retook her seat on the bedside, handing him the coffee at long last. He sipped at it carefully, savouring the bitter taste, as he closed his eyes and leaned back against the pillows that were propped behind him.

"So... five rounds in the Danger Room later, then?" Rogue quipped.

"Sure," he huffed a laugh, "Gambit even go easy on you, chère, maybe let you win a round..."

Her laughter was music to his ears, and he let his eyes drift closed once more, relaxing, feeling safe and secure in his familiar surroundings and in Rogue's company. She smiled, affectionately, as she saw him nodding off again, plucking the half-empty mug from his unresisting fingers before he could spill it.

"Sleep it off, sugar," she murmured to him, softly, as he slumped back against the pillows with a soft sigh, "ah'll be here when ya wake up..."