Logan gasped and jerked awake, returning to his conscious body with a start, dropping Gambit's and Ghost Rider's hands as he did so, his claws automatically unsheathing as he assumed a defensive stance, uncertain as to what was going on. He immediately retracted his claws at Rogue's shocked expression. Annalee let out a small sigh and collapsed, falling back into Callisto's waiting arms.
"She okay?" Rogue asked, immediately concerned.
"Just exhausted," the Morlock de facto leader said, grimly, "it has been years since she last entered someone's mind like that. She needs to rest."
"Looks like she did it," Rogue responded, gratefully, "take her, Callisto – an' look after her."
"I look after all my Morlocks – unlike your precious Storm," spat the other woman, but she gathered her friend up in her arms and walked away without a backwards glance.
"My work here is done," Ghost Rider intoned, flames dancing in his eye sockets as he spoke, "I thank you for your assistance, X-Men."
He turned to walk away, but Rogue held up her hand, "Wait! What about Remy? Is he gonna be okay?"
"That is not for me to decide. Goodbye, X-Men."
The Rider walked away, his blazing skull visible for a long time before he disappeared into the darkness of the tunnel, leaving Wolverine and Rogue, still cradling the unconscious Gambit, in the dimly lit throne room. Rogue held him a little closer to her chest, giving him a gentle hug.
"Remy?" she murmured, into his ear, "Can ya hear me, sugar?"
"Ugh..." he groaned, twitching and stirring in her grip, "R... Rogue?"
"Ah'm here, darlin'," she assured him, "Logan, too... you're gonna be okay, hon. We're gonna getcha outta here..."
She raised her eyes to Logan, who nodded, and gestured to her; "This way. Follow me."
Rogue looped Gambit's left arm around her neck, wrapping her right arm around his waist, lifting him easily into the air with her, as she flew after Logan down the labyrinthine tunnels of the Morlock underground system. They soon found themselves back at the underground station, where they drew more than a few frightened and confused stares from commuters as they emerged from the darkness. They ignored them, as they made their way above ground, surprised to find that it was dark – night had fallen during the hours they had spent in the tunnels. They returned to where the bikes were parked, and Logan eyed Gambit critically.
"Thank ya'd better take him back to the mansion, darlin'," he said, knowing the Cajun was in no fit state to ride, "I'll come back fer 'is bike later. Don't worry, Gumbo – I won't put a scratch on her!"
"Thanks, Logan," Rogue launched herself higher, accelerating quickly, keeping a tight hold on Gambit, "ah'll see ya back there!"
Soaring through the night sky, Rogue made quick work of the journey home. She alighted only briefly to open the front door, closing it behind them, knowing it would take Logan some time to catch up, before she gathered Gambit up in her arms and launched through the house again, taking him upstairs, until they were back in the familiar surroundings of his room.
"Huh," she said, as she opened the door, ushering him in, "feels like ah've spent more time in here these last few weeks than mah own room... not that ah'm complainin', mind you... jeeze, Remy, yer like a block of ice... let's getcha warmed up..."
She pulled back the covers of the bed, sitting him down on the edge of the mattress. He tried to take off his boots but his hands were shaking too much; gently, she helped him remove them, before she took off his coat, and carefully tugged off his hood, letting his long hair fall free. He managed to pull off his shirt and she hissed a breath through her teeth at the sight of the ugly, purple bruise spreading across his sternum that was no doubt painful. She resisted the urge to touch his muscular chest, wanting only to soothe away his obvious aches and pains, as he pulled on a plain tee-shirt, wincing as he did so. She demurely turned away as he removed his uniform trousers; she turned up the heating on the radiator to chase the chill away, as he pulled on some sweatpants, before allowing his head to fall into the palms of his hands, elbows resting on his knees as he struggled to catch his breath.
"Lie back, sugar..."
Rogue plumped up a couple of pillows and gently pushed him back into a reclined position; he groaned, flinching, wheezing slightly against the tightness in his chest. She brushed the hair from his eyes and ran her gloved fingers down the side of his face, comfortingly, before tugging the blankets over him, tucking them around his shoulders.
"Ah'm gonna go down to the med bay – see if ah can find ya some aspirin or somethin'," she told him, softly, "jus' somethin' ta take the edge off the pain, okay? Ah won't be long – jus' try ta rest..."
He nodded, teeth gritted against the bone deep ache that had settled in the centre of his chest, allowing himself to relax back into the soft pillows as she slipped out of the door. His breath hitched in his throat and he coughed to clear it, head still reeling from the final confrontation with Miasma, the dark emotions she had stirred up still bubbling in the back of his mind as he tried to come to terms with what had happened. After a long while, Rogue returned, clutching a blister pack of tablets and a glass of water.
"Painkillers," she whispered, pressing a couple of them out of the packet, "here... take them."
He worked his right hand free of the bedcovers, accepting the pills with a shaking hand. He swallowed them both at the same time, quickly followed by a mouthful of water from the glass. Suddenly realising how thirsty he was, he took another mouthful, but coughed as the icy water flared pain in his chest, and he groaned, grimacing. Rogue snatched the glass from his hand to stop him dropping it, allowing him to clutch his hand to his bruised chest.
"What the hell did she do ta ya, Remy?" Rogue asked, her voice shaking a little as she sat down on the edge of the bed, her gloved hand resting over the top of his, as he gripped his sternum.
"Don't know," he admitted, tiredly, "felt like... I don't know... like she'd got hold of my chest in a vice... squeezing the life outta me..."
He swallowed the lump that had appeared in his throat, slumping back on the pillows, adding; "Sorry, chère... so... so damn tired..."
"S'okay, sugar," she murmured, soothingly, "ya don' have ta stay awake anymore. Close yer eyes. Go to sleep. Ah'll be right here when ya wake up..."
"Yo'... you need to rest... too..." he was fighting a losing battle to stay awake now, as the painkillers began to take effect, "you should... go get... get some sleep..."
"Ah'll be fine, Cajun," she smiled at him, as she turned off the light and took up her familiar position in the armchair by the bed, putting her feet up on the mattress, "now... quit yer fightin', an go ta sleep..."
Gambit mumbled something she did not quite catch, as his eyes slowly closed. His head gradually lolled to one side as he finally succumbed, the hand on his chest loosening its grip until his fingers were limp and relaxed, rising and falling gently as his breathing gradually evened out from hitching, pained gasps, to slow and even inhalations and exhalations. As Rogue watched, a small, affectionate smile on her lips, he finally yielded to his exhaustion, and slept. In the distance, she heard the roar of a motorcycle engine, and her smile widened. Checking once more that Gambit was, indeed, fast asleep, she eased herself out of the armchair, and went to go and make a pot of coffee. No doubt Logan would want some, and she had a feeling she was going to have a long night keeping her vigil.
