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Chapter 5: The lost findings.

"It's at night when perhaps we should be dreaming, that the mind is most clear, that we are most able to hold all our life in the palm of our skull". Brian W. Aldiss.

"All the things one has forgotten, scream for help in dreams". Elias Canetti.

It was weird, to say the least, to think this face she couldn't recognize belonged to someone that was trapped somewhere in the depths of her mind. Neither the brown hair, nor the strong features, not even the red on black eyes, seemed familiar to her. Just the front face, standard photo of a complete stranger.

"No way, Scott" Jean said firmly, her eyes up front, piercing the darkness on the other side of the Black Bird's front glass.

"But we could…"

"No", she insisted: "I've been working so hard with Rogue in therapy to help her control and lock down the psyches of the people she has… absorbed." Jean lowered her voice when saying this last word. "It's not the right time to make any of them resurge, or to throw out the window an entire month of efforts".

"All right," Cyclops sighted in frustration: "But if there's some information about this man in Rogue's mind that could be useful for us…"

This was it for Rogue:

"Excuse me, can we talk 'bout anythin' else that don't include mah mental health, or lack of it?"

"You heard the women, pretty boy," the Wolverine said, matter of factly: "No mind tricks tonight. We'll do this old school and I'm sure glad."

This put an end to the discussion and, truth be told, Rogue appreciated Jean taking her side, for once. The last thing she wanted to do was digging in her scrambled brain and rummaging in the memories of some random guy. Not now, that therapy seemed to be working and the voices and presences of those people were gone. At least that she could tell.

She zipped up her black uniform jacket and tried to look out the window. There was nothing to be seen, but her reflection.

(…)

Her steps didn't make a single noise in the empty corridor, their sound muffled by her combat boots. In spite of this, she felt like her breathing or heart beats or blood running through her veins were way too loud and she wished she could just shut them up. The six X-Men had split few minutes ago, each of them assigned to a different level of the massive building. A faint light blinked at the end of the hallway, so she continued her way, led by it. The instructions were simple: find the man and keep him from taking the info. If in order to do that she had to use her power on him again… well, let's just say she wasn't thrilled about it, but ready for it, if necessary.

Finally, she found herself under the fluorescent lamp and in front of the metallic door she had been looking for. She dialed the security code Jean had provided them with, and it opened with a slight beep.

There were computers all over this huge room, at least three dozens of them, and when the door closed by itself behind her back, Rogue didn't even blink. Her eyes were already adjusted to the darkness, so it wasn't a problem to move forward. Then, she felt her stomach twitch, and she stopped in her tracks. No sounds, except for a faraway tick tack; no movement, not even in the dark branches of trees outside the wide window glass. If he wasn't there yet, she'd wait for him; these computers couldn't be here just to check Twitter and play online games. If he was… she laughed on her inside, at the thought of actually saying out loud: come out, come out, wherever you are! It was indeed like playing hide and seek.

Where was he? She could feel something around, someone, but as much as she scanned every corner of the place, she couldn't spot anything. That is, until a high back swivel chair she hadn't paid much attention to, spun all of a sudden.

He stared at her from head to feet and grinned:

"Bien, dis be a nice change from dat salopard dey sent last time".

Rogue would have expected anything but this. He was leaning back comfortably, like he was watching a movie in his living room instead of stealing from a government facility something that could potentially put all mutants in danger.

"Great" she uttered with disdain: "Then, if yah know who we are, yah also know yah won't be getting' away with it. Just like last time."

"Au contraire, chère," he stood up and came a little closer to her; she had to make an effort to dismiss the instinct of stepping back: "I'm pretty sure we both be on d' same side dis time, only y' haven't noticed."

"Ah can't be on the same side o' someone who sells his own people".

He crossed his arms over his chest and frowned condescendingly: "An' can y' enlighten me on how is it dat I'm sellin' y'? Us?"

"Don' play innocent on me, we know yah wanna sell mutants' info to BMR".

His eyes widened instantly, like he couldn't believe his ears: "Dat I…?! Wait, wait, wait, dis is a good one!"

She stood there for some good ten seconds, a brow raised while contemplating his fit of laughter.

"Yah done?" she finally asked.

"In fact, non. Come here". At this point, she should have already knocked him unconscious, then why was she tangling herself in his words, in his speech? There must have been a reason for it, but whichever it was, it wasn't rational at all, not a matter of feelings either. More like a gut thing. So narrowing her eyes at him and ready to jump if he tried anything stupid, she approached to the computer screen he wanted to show her. The background of it was blue, except for a bar that read "92% process completed… 93% process completed" and counting.

"What's that supposed to be?"

"Dis, cherie, are de mutant registration files bein' erased… by moi" and saying this, he did some sort of reverence.

Her rational part was still dubious. Why do we always have to deal with so many parts of ourselves?

"An' Ah'd believe yah 'cause…?"

He leaned closer to her and this time she couldn't help to draw apart a little:

"'Cause y've got somethin' of Remy up here inside dis head of yours, don't y'?" She swallowed hard. "'Cause y' can see even thou I'm not precisely a role model, I wouldn't help mutants' enemies. Ain't dat right, cherie?" He came even closer and added in a lower voice: "Ain't it right dat y' can see Remy up dere, like in a lil' stage play?"

"No" she snapped, and it was true. She couldn't see him or anyone else anymore. Right?

"It's okay, y' can see Remy anytime y' want" he smirked: "I'd just like t' see y' too, another time, in a less tense situation".

"Ah said Ah can't see yah, an' thank God for it," she took another look at the screen: 98%. "So when this is done, they'll have zero information 'bout us?"

"Absolutely" he insisted self sufficiently: "Y're welcome".

Rogue wasn't the trusty type; heck, she was the skeptical type all along. But this time, something was screaming at her that he wasn't lying. Maybe he was right: that part of him she had absorbed was somehow helping her decipher the truth.

"Okay Gambit, Ah'll believe yah. Ah will. But if Ah find out yah lied t' me at least one bit, Ah'll find yah an' yah'll regret it."

"Oui? What y' gonna do? Touch me again?" His stare was so different from any other she had ever felt on her. She felt completely wrapped by it, like she had to fight against it.

"Ah could do that, yeah."

"Y' can drain my energy anytime, chère. Gambit has plenty."

"Yah're hilarious" she retorted bitterly.

"So y' think dat de only way we can see each other again? Why don't we…?"

"See yah never." Rogue didn't wait another second, just turned around and left, Remy following her with his gaze until she walked out the door.

On the blue screen could be read "Finished process. Files deleted".

(…)

Rogue could finally crawl back into her bed when the first stripes of light were appearing in the horizon. She told the others pretty much the truth, seasoned with a supposed little touch she gave this guy, in which she could see he wasn't lying. Of course she omitted his ridiculous flirting.

Now, with warm blankets wrapping her and the softness of the pillow underneath her head, she felt worn out. She didn't want to think about the unnamed feeling she had every second Remy was in front of her.

Remy. She was starting to refer to him by his name.

Chère. He called her chère.

If it wasn't because of Jean's and the Professor's new therapy, he'd have been right: she could be able to see him anytime she wanted to, attached to her forehead.

But no, he was a stranger. He was a ghost that disappeared inside her head, if he ever was in it.

She felt strangely dragged to him, though she wouldn't accept it. Not in the only reality that counts: this one.

Her thoughts drifted, sinking in exhaustion.

(…)

"Ah, cherie, y' wouldn't really think Remy'd do such thing, now would y'?"

"'Course Ah did! Ah don't know yah out there, remember?"

The both of them were sitting at the very edge of a building's rooftop. It was late at night and the lights of the city at their feet, spread in all directions. Which city was this? Rogue herself hadn't even stopped to think about it; it didn't matter at all.

"Well now y' do. So y' better give me d' benefit of d' doubt next time".

"Ah better?"

"Y' better".

"Or what?"

"Or…" he leaned closer, their faces apart by only an inch: "I'll have t' kiss y', but dis time for real, out dere."

"That's gotta be the worst of your worst ideas".

"Den let's do it here."

Every time their lips met, she felt like this box, that was infinite and restricted at the same time, exploded in pieces. The box of this unreal reality, of these cities and objects and people that were less than shadows. So she shut her own thoughts up and focused only on this kiss, on his lips and face, and his arms around her.

"Still," he whispered against her ear: "We gotta meet outside."

"We're gonna be trouble outside" she replied, facing him now.

"I like trouble. 'Sides… dis won't last forever. Y' know dat, right?"

"What do yah mean?"

"De therapy y're going through, t' erase de psyches."

This startled her. She didn't remember about any therapy, did she? Or maybe she did…

The Professor, Jean… telling her to relax, to close her eyes... telling her this way she could…

"No… when?" Her head was spinning. All of the place seemed to be.

"Listen, chère: people've vanishing 'round here, haven't y' noticed? We have t'…"

Rogue chocked in her own suffocated scream.

He was gone.

Note: Hey there! I first met X-Men through the 90's animated series when I was about 12, and to this day, I'm in love with it. So I took a quote from it, by Gambit: "You can drain my energy anytime, chère. Gambit has plenty". Reviews make me happy, btw. Thanks for reading!