A/N: Okay, I'm back after such a long period between uploads. Really, really sorry about that, but I am at a crossroads with this story and had to decide exactly what the next chapter should entail. But with the loving help of my most faithful reviewer, PyroWhore, I was able to decide, so the next chapter is up.

To Die Schurkin, the fact that the wounds didn't kill her is a not so subtle hint to the fact that despite that the collar was on and effective, she's slowly evolving past it. She can't use her powers directly, of her own will, but subtly, her body is changing to accept the powers that she's absorbed as natural. Whereas the collars monitor brain activity, which for normal mutants will increase whenever they are using their powers, Rogue's is changing so that there is no increased brain activity, as natural as breathing. Since Wolverine is the one that she's closest to emotionally, his powers manifest first. But we'll be seeing more of this, so don't worry. Hope that answers all your questions.

THANKS SO SO SO MUCH TO ALL (EVERY SINGLE ONE OF YOU DARLINGS) MY REVIEWERS:

Die Schurkin, xxbrusiedxbrokenxx, jacobsboo, dulcesweet, lildevil0644, lvswtht, Litfan420, PyroWhore, noro and spedclass!

And that is enough of my yapping, so on to what you really want to read, the next chapter; ENJOY!!!

Chapter 13 – Hot Flashes

He stared in complete awe at the beauty before him.

She was perfect.

Bountiful breasts; curvy hips; the perfectly rounded globes of her ass; pouty lips that just begged a man to worship them; licking and sucking until she came for him, only to start all over again. She was rightly proportioned for a woman, curves where there should be curves, but compact in the rest of the places. She was built for sex.

A long, hot, sweaty marathon of pounding hard sex!

Damn! he thought. He was getting a hard-on just looking at his gorgeous savior.

And as if reading his thoughts, she turned her attention from their mutual captor and walked seductively toward him.

Watching the sway of her lush hips as she walked toward him, he felt as though he would come from just watching her walk … no sashay towards him.

Mon Dieu! She has me hot and sweaty like some untried teenager!

He was amazed that after such a brutal fight as the one he had witnessed, there was not a scratch to mar the perfection that was her.

Her clothes, or what little was left of them, bore more evidence of the fight that just took place than her body did.

But he couldn't say that he minded.

And then his brain short-circuited as she came within breathing space of him.

She leaned in close, so close that he could actually feel her nipples brushing his chest.

The part of his anatomy that badly wanted her attention, jumped to salute her.

Leaning closer still, she placed her lips close to his ear and breathed breathily into his ear.

He felt shivers run through his body; it felt as if he'd just gotten a pleasurable shock of electricity through his body; the same sensation felt after a powerful orgasm.

"Remy, isn't it?" she asked, in her southern accent and he thought that his heart stopped.

"…ye… yes?" he stammered.

"I want ya tah remember something' fo' mah. Can ya do dat?"

"Sure!" he replied eagerly, closing his eyes to fully experience the miracle of her voice washing over him.

"Remember… Genosha… Xavier… Children… Get out! ... LOGAN!!!"

"What!!! What the fuck!!!"

Snapping his eyes opened, he noticed that the goddess was literally fading before him.

"Wait!!!"

She looked at him sadly with her gorgeous doe eyes, and smiled a smile filled with such misery that he instinctively reached to comfort her.

But his hand passed right through her.

"Wait!!!"

"Remeeeeemmmmmbbbbeeeeer…. RRRRReeeeemmmmyyyyy," she whispered.

"I don't even know your name!" he shouted.

"RRRRRRRooooooggggggguuuuuuueeeee," she said. And then she was gone.

And in place of the feelings she'd evoked, came the pain. The unexplainable, excruciating pain!

Remy LeBeau, aka Gambit, snapped up in his bed, cold sweating from the dream he had just experienced.

"Mon Dieu! What de fuck was dat?" he whispered, running his hand through his disheveled shoulder length wavy hair.

He looked over at the beside clock.

1:30 AM

At least he'd actually gotten three hours sleep this time.

The same fucking dream; every fucking night.

And every night it ended in the same way: him waking up from an excruciating pain, with a raging hard-on, and the image of a goddess stuck front and centre in his brain.

Rubbing his eyes, he slipped nude out of the bed.

Trudging heavily to the bathroom of the four star hotel, to take care of his little problem. A cold shower usually worked, and if not there was always his hand.

After dealing with the most pressing problem he exited the bathroom, towel slung low over his hips and booted up the laptop.

Might as well get something done, he thought.

A month! A goddamned fucking month of his memory he'd lost. And he'd gained a million dollars in the process.

Oh, there was evidence that he'd taken a trip to the Bahamas; seemingly spending the month fucking and drinking the days away in loads of Caribbean sun.

But his mind denied the evidence.

As much as he tried to envision that time period, he couldn't.

His mind just drew a blank.

And then there were the dreams. The fucking dreams where he woke up with hard-ons and cold sweating. And he couldn't remember a fucking thing besides her face; particularly her eyes. Her sorrow-filled eyes that just begged for a little compassion. Compassion that he would give his soul to be able to offer her.

He just couldn't remember anything more than that. And he knew that there was something important that he was supposed to remember.

So every night after the dream he would spend the rest of the darkness, surfing the net trying to find any clue as to the woman in his dreams. But with nothing other than a description, even with such a distinctive feature as her white bangs, he couldn't find her. Not a goddamned thing!

So once again he begun his ritual, praying that perhaps, this would be the night that he actually found her.

His desperation to find her must have struck some chords with the Man upstairs, because it was through sheer coincidence that he just happened to enter the site about missing persons.

And it was by chance that he scrolled down the list of names and faces.

And it was some force of divine intervention that told him to stop scrolling at the exact moment her picture appeared on the screen.

And one word.

'Rogue'

He felt his heart stop.

A/N: Review anyone?

LOL.