: HOUSE OF CARDS :

PART SIX : COMPLETION

(23) - Choice -

Outside the sky was roiling; against the blackness great white clumps of snow were falling, thick and heavy, to the ground below.

Inside the little room, Rogue stirred softly against Remy. In the languid aftermath they'd lain entwined together in a perfect silence broken only by disconnected words and disconnected touches, by the exploration of hands on one another, idle play that had guided them to no further conclusion. After a while they had fallen into stillness again, sinking back into their own thoughts and a mutual sense of contentment. She had placed her hand upon his breast and listened to his silence, one that was louder than words, louder even than the psyches in her own head. Once, years ago, lying in this very same spot, she'd felt the urge to absorb his memories, to see what lay inside the depths of his soul. It amazed her now that she had ever felt the need. She knew enough; enough to read his silences, to read his touches. She needed nothing more.

"Shoulda kissed you," he murmured suddenly into the silence, breaking her reverie.

"Hmm?" she mumbled, tilting her face slightly to look questioningly into his eyes.

"Dat day. De day before de military came and fucked over de mansion and killed Xavier." He paused, absentmindedly looping a curl of her hair round a forefinger and tugging on it lightly. "Shoulda kissed you," he finished decidedly, letting the curl bounce free. She chuckled quietly.

"Then Ah woulda seen Sinister in that tortured mind o' yours and hated yah even more," she half-joked.

"I dunno," he rumbled back. "Figure you woulda absorbed some part of me dat woulda told you I was serious about pinnin' you down."

"And what about all the other stuff in your head?" she murmured back soberly. "What about all your most cherished memories and innermost secrets? Ah would've gotten them too."

She felt him shrug against her.

"Would've been nice, I'm t'inkin', t' have someone understand me for a change." He paused and stared at the white flakes of snow flitting across the window, a pensive look on his face. She followed his gaze, and they were both quiet for a long moment, saying nothing. When next he spoke, his eyes were still on the window. "Was it easy, chere? Sleepin' wit' other men?"

She was silent, feeling the weight of his words sink into her with an oddly alien texture; the stillness seemed to pass like an age as she stared at the little rectangle of window, framing the same little patch of sky that had been theirs for so long.

"No," she answered at last, simply, honestly. "No, it wasn't. Not at first. But it got easier."

He shifted; she felt his eyes on her, but she couldn't return the look, couldn't explain the feeling inside her – how could she find the words to tell him that all of it had been a sacrifice, a sacrifice for them, for the only thing that had kept her going through even the most degrading and humiliating moments? "But it didn't matter, did it?" she continued thickly, flatly. "You were right, Remy. We can have no ties, no loyalties, no loves. Ah was only livin' the way Ah was s'pposed to be livin', doin' what people like us are s'pposed to do."

His eyes were still on her, tracing the contours of her face with a stark intensity she still could not reciprocate.

"And you believed what I said, back then?" he murmured, his voice low.

"There was a truth to your words," she whispered back. Silence. Silence falling thickly again like the snow outside, cradling them both in a cold and knowing hand. She closed her eyes and continued: "But no one, not you, not any of those other men, not even the statics can take it away from me. They can't take away feelin'. It doesn't matter who you are. It doesn't matter where Ah've been. Ah can't stop wantin' t' be with you; and besides," her voice lowered to little above a whisper, "you're the only good thing Ah have left."

She paused, feeling his eyes burning in the darkness, willing her to look at him, but she couldn't.

"It was the feelin' that Ah had to switch off," she began again hoarsely, blinking her eyes open, still unable to meet his gaze. "And then it became easier. That's all it takes. Just switchin' all the finer feelin's off, just like killin' the ignition and goin' on autopilot." She reached out then, swallowing back the metallic taste in her throat, splaying her fingers upon his flesh once more, feeling the intricate etch work of scars imprint itself onto her palm. "Isn't it the same way with killin'?" she whispered softly. "Even if it's only for the sake of the mission?"

She was brave enough to meet his eyes then, finding his glance now wary, watchful. Yet she did not find it hard to return the look with all the openness and honesty she knew could only exist between them now. It was a challenge - a challenge for him to see that she knew what Essex had planned for her, that she knew the only way this could end. They said nothing for a long moment, each holding the other's gaze; and then abruptly, something flickered in those beautiful, deep red eyes and she realised.

He knows. He knows Ah know…

"It's different," he answered at last, his voice a low undertone.

"Yeah. Ah guess it is." She nodded. "Even if Ah had to sell my body, Ah got to keep my soul. Whenever Ah came up here with you, Ah still had that soul. Maybe it wasn't as beautiful as it should've been, but Ah still got to keep it." Her gaze flittered over the walls as she said the words, as though she was marking every inch of the room in her mind. Then she turned back to him and said, thoughtfully; "Killin's different. It chips away at your soul, until there's nothin' left."

"I'm still here," he whispered.

"But at what price, Remy? For all the souls that you saved, didn't your heart ever bleed for the few that you sold?"

He looked away. His mind was on a young boy, a young boy named Leech, the one face that had truly pricked his conscience.

"Honestly…" he began; but the sentence remained unfinished. His eyes shifted to hers once more, curious, challenging. "But with Kincaid and Guess… if I hadn't turned up when I did, would you really have let them live, knowing that you would've been sacrificin' your own life instead?"

"Ah wouldn't have cared," she answered with certainty.

"Even if your death had meant there was no more freedom and justice than there was before? Even if it had achieved nothing? We're not martyrs, Rogue. We're invisible as ghosts, no one cares, no one even sees if we live or die; we're ghosts…"

"Ghosts outside, not in," she interjected gently. "Ah told you, Remy. If Ah had to kill Ah'd be dead. Dead inside. It would be the end for me. In every sense. Ah wouldn't be able to carry on." She paused, and he said nothing this time; but his eyes were still on hers, intent, assessing… And suddenly she realised that she had to tell him the truth. "Irene showed me somethin'," she began to tell him softly. "Yesterday night, Ah absorbed her powers. To be honest, Ah didn't believe any of this bullshit about Rachel. Ah thought it was just another one of Raven's paranoid obsessions. But Ah saw it, Remy. Ah saw…everythin'. So many worlds beyond ours, so many timelines, so many of us…" She held a tremulous breath, released it slowly. "There are other worlds out there. And if Rachel could chronoskim, if she could take us there…"

She halted, her voice suddenly wavering with emotion, and he cupped her head in one palm, gently rubbed the nape of her neck and said: "You believe she could?"

"Ah…Ah don't know. The Professor was always tryin' to help her to develop it, but Ah don't know what kinda damage the Hound programming could've done to her powers. Ah don't even know if he taught her how to do it properly."

"You believe in it then?" he asked. "Dat she's worth savin'? Dat she's de one who could end all dis?" His eyes were burning; the pressure of his fingers in her hair had increased.

"Yes," she replied with finality. He sucked in an imperceptible breath, looked away, then back at her again. "Ever since yesterday," she explained in a voice that was barely above a whisper, "Ah've realised that Ah have another chance. Ah have another chance, Remy. All this time, Ah've been holdin' onto a tether, a life that has no meanin' anymore. Here and now, Ah've screwed up big time. But out there, there must be other Rogues that are happy, that made the most of their lives. Even if Ah don't have a chance to be somethin', to be the kinda person Ah've always wanted to be, they do. And Rachel's the key."

"Rogue -" His fingers were still in her hair, but motionless now; his eyes had changed, were troubled, but she didn't want to hear him, she didn't want to hear him dissuade her.

"Ah saw her, Remy. Right at the end of it all, Ah saw her." She gave a small, mirthless laugh. "It's funny - Ah don't even know how Ah knew it was her, but it was her. A burst of fire, like the whole universe was gonna go up in flames, but at the same time like it was gonna be reborn… Like the phoenix, risin' from the ashes… It's a feelin' Ah can't describe, Remy, and Ah wish, just for once, that Ah could make you understand, that Ah could show you how it is… The end of the world… The beginning of the world… The beginning of everythin'…"

Her voice was wavering again, and she couldn't look him in the eye anymore for fear of shedding tears. So she lowered her head, rested it upon his chest, upon his heartbeat, the only thing that had kept her going for so many long, empty years…

"Ah'm willin' t' die for it, Remy," she whispered at last.

So take me, Remy, it won't make it a betrayal if Ah want it. See through the mission, free Rachel, do the right thing and let her go free, live on, be happy. Always be happy…

His hand rested on the back of her head; he was so still, so silent that, if not for his heartbeat, she would have thought she had killed him already.

"Rogue -" he began again hoarsely, but faltered off before he could say the words - perhaps he didn't know what he wanted to say after all. She didn't mind. She didn't want to hear him say it. It was better this way, after all. No attachments, no bonds, no love. It wasn't about honour or pride, or dignity. It was about humanity - all humanity. It was about something bigger even than that, about saving it, preserving it. It was a universal truth; it was everything. And now she felt calm. She felt calmer than she'd felt in years. All that time fighting against destiny, fighting against her fate, and now she was ready to face it, stoic as the gladiator, as the martyr making his sacrifice for the liberty of others. It didn't matter if the world would never see it.

She was ready.

And he knew she was ready.

She did not know how long the silence between them lasted, but for some reason she was content to lie there against him, listening to his heartbeat. He would live on, she knew it; he always would, it was what he did, he was resourceful, protean. Like Raven he could mould himself into any shape he wanted - it was this one basic skill that she lacked, the ability to be malleable and thus indestructible. She couldn't because she had stolen the essence of so many - nothing was more sacred to her than her own identity. But he… he would go on. He would always have someone to hold him close on a cold night. He would always be there, her dark angel, the thing she loved most.

Just let him live, and Ah'll never regret this…

She rolled away from him; but he wasn't quite ready to surrender her so easily. His arms encircled her from behind; she felt him press his face against her hair as he held her close to him, tenderly, protectively, as though she would shatter in his grasp.

"De key to deprogrammin' a Hound," he murmured into her ear. "Hit them wit' a memory. Any memory dat means somet'ing to them. Better still, hit them wit' as many as you can. It confuses them, it breaks them."

She stared wide-eyed at the wall. In saying those words, he'd tacitly implied that he too was willing to make the same sacrifice she was.

If one of us is killed, the other can see the mission through to the end…

It was somehow worse than if she'd clung to him and been unable to let him go. And yet… …

"Rachel's at the back of the compound," she found herself whispering back. "In sector D, cell fifty. There's a crawlspace you can use to get through to it, from the maintenance room in sector C; an air vent. Don't wait for Mystique to show up, she'll kill you if Ah haven't. It can be done in about fifteen minutes, if you're quick."

There. They were equal now. Lord, they were equal, with all the risks it entailed…

She closed her eyes and gripped his hands, sudden agony etched on her face.

"Remy -" she whispered, but he silenced her gently, the warmth of his breath on her hair.

"Shh," he whispered. "Get some sleep, Rogue. It'll be all right. I'll be here. Get some sleep."

No. It would never be all right. Not ever again. Because she loved him. Because she'd never be able to do it. She would never be able to destroy the one life that had given hers so much meaning.

He kissed her hair. Outside the snowfall had deepened; the moon was nowhere in sight.

It was a long time before she slept, but when she did, he was still wide-awake.

-oOo-

He was still awake when she woke up; she couldn't even tell if he had slept at all.

This time there was no pretence, there was no differentiation between what was pleasure and what was business. Their touches, their kisses were all they had left.

She stood in front of the old dresser mirror and stared at herself for a long time. It was as if, for the first time, she was seeing herself for what she was; as if there were no longer any blinders over her eyes. For the first time in so many years, her actions this day would be hers and hers alone. And in that she felt a certain freedom. It was the same kind of freedom she had felt every time she had come into this room and made love to him, the feeling that she was fighting the world and all the suffering it contained.

And this time she would succeed. This time she would make a difference.

She picked up the cell phone beside her and dialled Raven's number.

There was only one ring before she answered.

"Rogue?"

"Momma? Everything's in place. We'll meet you there at noon."

"Rogue, what happened last night? Simmons was on the news just a few minutes ago, they found him murdered in his suite! What the fuck-?"

"He knew, momma. He recognised me. He almost had me cold… He was crazy, Raven, Ah thought Ah was dead for sure. Luckily Remy was around to bail me out."

"That fucking idiot!" Raven rasped through gritted teeth. "He killed Simmons, didn't he?!" She paused, her breath coming sharp and deep. "Is he there, Rogue? Is that jumped-up little fucker in the room with you right now?"

Rogue glanced in the mirror. Remy was standing a little way behind her, smoking a cigarette; her eyes met his and he shook his head mutely.

"No," she replied after a moment. "He's in the shower."

"I don't trust him, Rogue. Today is the day when all our work comes together. I'm certain Sinister wants sole possession of Rachel himself. Promise me you won't let that happen."

She closed her eyes, inhaled a slow, soundless breath, then opened them again.

"Don't worry, momma. It's all sorted. Just be there at noon, okay?"

"We will."

"Good." She hesitated, then added: "Raven… did Irene… has she said anythin' since Ah left?"

"No." Mystique sounded confused. "Should she?"

"No, no. Ah just thought… Ah just thought she might've seen somethin'…" Like how this all turns out… "Don't worry. It's nothin'. Probably just me gettin' the heebie-jeebies."

"Don't. For God's sake, I need you to be focused today, Rogue. Despite that idiot Cajun's actions last night, we have to go ahead with our plans as usual. As far as I can tell from all the news reports, the cops are still clueless about Simmons."

"Are they bringing the Hounds in? That could be a problem."

"Not yet. It seems they're treating it as a bungled robbery at the moment, but I heard the feds were being called in. I don't know whether that's going to last. That's why we've got to work fast today, Rogue. Do you hear me?"

"Ah hear yah, loud and clear." She stopped, watching Remy stub out his cigarette before speaking again. "Look, Ah gotta go. Ah'll meet you later, okay? Bye."

She switched the phone off and set it down on the dresser again. Despite everything Raven had put her through over the years, she still found it strange and somewhat distressing to think that she would never hear her voice again.

There was no time to mourn this as she felt Remy's arms wrap round her from behind, and she shivered, arching slightly when she felt his lips press against the dip between her neck and her shoulder in a slow, sensuous kiss. She watched him kiss his way across the line of her shoulder, painstakingly slow and deliberate, lavishing his tender caresses on her as if there would never be another chance to do so. She closed her eyes, savouring each bittersweet moment, etching it onto her memory along with the rest of all her meaningless treasures.

"Today," he murmured into her flesh.

"Today," she agreed on a whisper.

When she opened her eyes, he had stopped. His chin was propped on her shoulder, and he was gazing at her reflection in the mirror. They stood there for a long while, gazing at their entwined reflection; it was the first time they'd seen one another together. Again Rogue felt as if she were embossing this image onto her memory, locking it away deep inside her. The moment was so profound, so deep, that she was almost relieved when he finally stirred and unwrapped her from his embrace. Then his hands were on her upper arms, swivelling her away from the mirror, making her face him; when she did so, when she looked up into his eyes, his gaze was intent, lustful, so full of desire…

Last time.

She tilted her head slightly, welcoming him, and he pulled her against him, his kisses increasing in passion until she could barely breathe under the intensity of them… She clung to his him, steadying herself, feeling the flare rise up in her throat, choking her… She didn't think she could bear this, she didn't think she could bear his sweet kisses any longer…

As if he had sensed this he eased away gently, breaking the embrace, his lips lingering seductively on her own before finally letting her go.

When she opened her eyes again, he was smiling as cockily as if nothing had happened.

"I'm gon' go and get ready, 'kay, chere?" he murmured in that same old wolfish tone. She half-smiled, let her hands slide away from him.

"Okay," she whispered.

He stepped away, but she remained at the mirror a moment longer. The butterfly pendant glistened against her bare skin, bright as a star she could wish upon. Without thinking she clutched it in her palm, held it tight.

One more day of good luck, she silently implored. Just one more day of good luck is all Ah ask.

-oOo-

They left an hour earlier than they'd been intending to; outside the snow was lighter, flittering delicately to the ground, turning the squalid square of apartment blocks into a shimmering field of pure white. In the space of a night, something cheerless and ugly had been turning into something beautiful. It gave her a sense of hope, of fortitude - that this indeed was a memory worth fighting for.

"Ready?"

Remy was already at the bike, waiting for her. She stood in the snow, pulling the leather gloves over her hands, flexing her fingers inside the thick, cold material, watching the fabric stretch taut like an old memory. She looked up.

"As Ah'll ever be."

She clambered up onto the driver's seat of her bike, whilst he got up behind her. From now until either one of them got to Rachel, it was her ballgame.

"Yah comfortable back there, sugah?" she asked him, breathing wisps of condensation into the morning air. Behind her, she could almost feel him grin.

"Very." His arms encircled her waist. "Makes a nice change to have you bein' the one ridin'."

Jokes and banter. It was almost like it used to be. She half-smiled and switched on the ignition. She was looking forward to this . What she needed was to feel the wind hit her so hard it stung, for her to feel alive. She hit the gas, revving up the engine, making her own stomach churn with dread anticipation. She was going to drive hard and fast as if her life depended on it, as though into the very sundown of her life.

"Better watch out, Cajun," she threw back at him with a relish she couldn't hide. "Ah have a feelin' this ride's gonna be a wild one."

Before they left she looked back over her shoulder just once, her heart stirring with a sense of longing for the place that had contained them for so long. They'd both closed the door on their room, closed this chapter of their lives, cut off the thread that had linked them to the grand tapestry of Fate. After today there would be no more, and in a way she could face her destiny now without flinching, because there was nothing left to cling to.

Because a part of her had died already, on the doorstep of their little room.

-oOo-

They rode for two hours, out of the city, through the snow, past the suburbs and the outlying industrial estates. The sky loomed overhead, pale and mauve but for the charcoal grey clouds seething like the contents of some apocalyptic cauldron. There was no further snowfall. Something was still holding out for them at least. With the wind in her hair and smarting her cheeks, Rogue felt freer than she had done in a long time - a liberation, an exhilaration, like flying, like becoming a part of the elements. There was nothing left in the world that could ravage her, not when it was hitting her like this.

Presently all signs of civilisation began to peter out into a snow-strewn wilderness - the barren wilds that had been left in the first altercations fought between static and mutant, when she had slept in the coma that had shut her off from a rapidly changing world. She had never wandered here, out into the battle grounds of old - the twisted remnants of the Mark One Sentinels still littered the ground, a city of ruined and rusting weaponry. This sad wasteland was the furthest she had ever ventured into the real world since her new life had begun; and yet, as she navigated the single road that cut through this forgotten battlefield like a knife, she spared few glances for the scene of the event that had changed so much for mutantkind. What she rushed to now was the future, not the past. And if Rachel could bring about a time when wars and battles were no longer needed, it was worth it. All worth it.

At last the barren plains gave way once more to vegetation - to hills and vast outcrops of forest. Rogue steered the bike off the main road and onto a roughly beaten track; here the snow was pure and hadn't been muddied. A thick wood lined the path on the right; on the left was a great expanse of hills, stretching on into the distance. The track began to climb a stark incline, which became quite difficult to traverse - more trees sprung up on the left side, obscuring the hilly vistas as the bike laboured up to the crest of the slope.

And then, at last, they crested the hill, and were staring out onto a narrow valley nestled protectively by the bluffs and the surrounding forests. Rogue stopped the bike momentarily, letting Remy follow her gaze down into the valley. There, sandwiched by the encircling landscape, was spread out a huge enclosure of grey, squat, military-type buildings, neatly ordered into characterless rows and columns, contained within an eight-foot high perimeter fence. Smoke was rising gently from one of the farthest buildings, but apart from that there was no sound, no movement.

"The Hound Pens," Remy breathed beside her. She glanced at him. His eyes were narrowed, his jaw set. Their destination unknown had finally been reached.

"Ah'll park the bike in the woods," she told him matter-of-factly. "We'll dismount there and make a quick survey of the region." She revved up the bike again, turned away. "Raven will be here in just over half an hour. We'll have to work fast, Remy. Ah don't want either of us t' be around when she gets here."

She felt him touch her waist, soft, intimate.

"Rouge…"

You sure dis is how you want dis…?

She said nothing, guiding the bike slowly right, off the track and into the awaiting woods, letting them swallow her into their depths, letting it feel as if this was the point of no return. A part of her wanted to turn tail and flee, the other wanted to stand tall and end it…

She rode in a good thirty metres before they dismounted. The wood was as still as the hill had been, except for the faint shlup of snow sliding off the canopies overhead and onto the ground below. She guided him down a little ways into the valley, taking care to mark a path where they would not trip and fall. At last they came to the edge of the forest; from the cover of the trees they were looking directly out onto Ahab's compound. From their position the hill suddenly went down in a sharp incline of about thirty degrees, before finally levelling out and giving way to the Pen's perimeter fence. Up until that moment Rogue hadn't guessed just how hard it was going to be to get down that slope. There were trees dotted at sparse intervals on the way down, but there were large gaps in-between where there would be no anchor for anyone trying to get down. Whichever one of them made it would have a tough workout.

"Yah think yah can make it?" she asked him breathlessly.

"It's a cakewalk," he replied from beside her, but there was an uncertain timbre to his voice, and she held her breath, wanting him to be as strong and certain as she wasn't…

No. Ah can do this…

"How about security?" he asked.

"It'll be lunch in half an hour," she answered, glancing at her watch. "Otherwise, security is pretty tight. From Mystique's files, five guards circle the perimeter in tight formation. Once the first guard passes this point, we've got a five minute gap to get from here and into the compound before the second makes his appearance."

"Seems clear now," he noted.

"Yup." Rogue reached down into her utility belt and produced a pair of binoculars. "We'll haveta wait for a guard to come along before we make our way in. That way we can time ourselves properly."

"You wanna go in now?"

She passed him a sidelong glance.

"As soon as poss. Makes sense t' get this over and done with, huh?"

He didn't answer. She didn't want him to.

Ah've shown you the door, Remy, and it's open. If it's you that walks away, all yah haveta do is walk right on through. Just don't screw this up. For the sake of everythin', please don't.

"But while we're waitin'," she added as brightly as she could, "Ah'll just check that the rest of the area's clear. Then we can both mosey on down."

She squatted in the snow beside him on the small bank, training her binoculars over the ugly, squat barracks. Somewhere inside there Rachel was waiting, waiting for her destiny to greet her as much as Rogue was rushing towards her own. Her eyes flickered against the binocular lens. She remembered, suddenly, the red star earring she had found in the ruined mansion that day so many years ago, that she had dropped it and let it roll away.

Everything had a meaning. She felt certain of that now. Absorbing Irene's power had made things very clear to her. Every moment, every second had meaning, had purpose, to some ultimate end of which she would only play a very minute part. And if Irene's visions were true - if Rachel was at the end of it all - then Rogue's own meaning was to be here now, helping to break her free. She was in the right place, and this was the right time. It had always been the right time. She could feel it. She could feel the vestiges of Irene's power, telling her that this was right, telling her…

Instinctively her hand went to the knife at her thigh, her fingers closing over the hilt. It was there; it had always been there.

And up until that moment she'd never realised it… but she'd always known that she was going to let him win.

"Clear?" he asked above her.

She tucked the binoculars back inside her belt, rose to her feet.

"Clear," she said, her voice catching on the air, a tangible cloud of smoke. The moment had come, that lingering quiet, the moment she had been dreading but that she now greeted with an odd detachment. Finally, it had come. Understanding. She could wrestle with her feelings no longer. It was either him, or her.

She swung, her knife flashing upwards in a silver arc, but he'd already anticipated her attack, had already taken a mere step back and she realised her mistake too late, a mistake neither her head nor heart could afford. He'd known, all this time he'd known as she had, that this was the moment… She cried out, a growl of fear and frustration as she lunged forwards again, but he was quicker, grasping her arm in a vice-like grip before her blow could connect. Their gazes met, just for a second, a momentary flash in the frosty sunlight, and the next he'd knocked the knife from her grasp, tripped her into the snow. She gasped for breath, her throat aching, her lungs burning as he followed her to the ground, pinning her into the snowdrift with his body, and she saw the flash of the knife before she saw his eyes, clutched between his fingers and emanating the warm pink glow of his energy signature. He held it to her throat, said ever so softly: "Sorry, chere…"

She struggled, but he pressed the fullness of his weight into her and she caught her breath again, feeling the familiar heaviness of his body against her own… He was enjoying this, he was loathing this.

And now it was plain. What Irene had seen, what she had known for so many years - that all these feelings, all these dreams, all these years were funnelling down into this one moment, this one single event. From the very beginning, since the second they'd met one another again in that dark and dirty alley four years ago, it'd been either him or her and one inch that was going to cost her her life. For so long they'd been blind and only now did they both see it.

She gritted her teeth and said nothing. She was ready to die, it was what she wanted, an end to all this pain, all this suffering, all this hopelessness, the darkness that had shrouded her all these years. She would welcome release, even if it meant there would be no more them, no more clandestine meetings, no more stolen kisses and heartfelt fumblings in their lonely little room. Because she couldn't bear it anymore, she couldn't bear the other 364 days of the year when they were apart and constantly thinking about one another.

End it, Remy…

But his eyes, his eyes were so sad, almost tender… and his breath was warm on the cold air, on her skin, making her lips part, making her breath come heavy…

"Beg me t' stop, Rogue," he whispered. "Tell me t' stop an' I will."

She closed her eyes, dug her teeth into her lip.

"I love you, Rogue," he told her, and for the first time she heard his voice tremble.

Her eyelids stung.

"Rogue, please…Look at me…"

Horror was filling her, wild and desperate… Her fingers were in the snow, scrabbling, and she felt them enclose around a rock, a jagged rock, small, but big enough…

She stopped thinking.

Her mind felt almost divorced from her body, as if she were an outsider looking at her own body swing its arm in a quick, sharp arc, smashing the rock into the side of his skull, and at the impact, the horrible impact she was jolted back inside herself, and she let out a sickened scream as she felt him slump against her, as she realised what she had done. His hand was limp against her throat, still holding the knife, and she moved it away, trembling violently, tears blurring her eyes, whimpering as she nudged him off her and back into the snow. Shaking, she sat up, her body weak and querulous as jelly. He was lying beside her, droplets of blood colouring the snow in a crimson spray where he lay. She leant over him, sobbing quietly as she stripped the gloves from her hands and ran her fingers over his face again and again, as if she could hold that face and emboss it upon her heart. Even there, in the snow, so white and cold and unfeeling, he was beautiful, so beautiful…

She dipped her head and kissed the unresponsive lips, kissed them again and again in a way she'd never been able to before, feeling an overwhelming surge of emotion explode in her chest, and for the first time in years she was crying, really crying.

"Oh Remy, Ah love you… Ah love you, Remy… Ah love you too…"

She didn't know how long she remained like that, kissing him and repeating that mantra over and over until her sobs became dry and her throat was too hoarse to speak. It was the first time she'd ever spoken those words and she'd never known how much they'd needed to be said before. Except now they were too late…

She slumped against him, weeping softly, feeling her determination, her resolution slip away like a thief into the night. This beautiful sacrifice, this glorious ending she'd envisioned for herself, stripped away, vanished in a second. He was meant to have won, he was meant to have killed her, he was meant to have walked away and ended this all but somehow there had been a mistake and she didn't understand it, she didn't know where it had gone wrong…

I love you, Rogue.

He hadn't been able to do it. He hadn't been able to kill her. The moment he'd said it he'd ruined it all. She'd trusted him enough never to love her, never to form this one last unbreakable attachment to her. It was the only reason she could have seen this through. But to hear him say that, to hear him admit that they could be something bigger than this sacrifice; that all those years of dirty, tawdry encounters were really something more, something better, something really worth holding onto… …

He'd said to her, I destroy every good thing I touch. And she'd done the same. Because to have that good thing was too much, too much for someone as tainted and spoiled as her to handle, and she wanted it, she wanted it so badly, she'd wanted it for so many years and now it was gone…

At last she fell silent, letting the eerie stillness of the snowdrift cradle them both, clasping him tight to her, afraid to let him go. And suddenly she felt it.

His heartbeat.

Fluttering against the wall of his chest, soft as butterfly wings…

Like Kincaid on that fateful day three years ago, like Rogue herself awakening from her coma six months after she should have died… he was alive.

He was alive.

Everythin' has meaning…

Rogue sat up, her fingers trembling as she touched his neck, feeling for his pulse, her cheeks cold where her tears had frozen on her skin. He was alive, and that meant something. Fate was trying to send her a message… What message? She bit her lip to stop herself from shaking as she finally felt his pulse, shallow but still so strong, still so resolute, pounding away beneath his skin. She frowned, clutching the coat at his chest, pulling it tighter about him, trying to keep him warm, trying to hold him inside his own body.

She knew what this meant.

She knew what to do.

She knew.

Her breath was coming slower now. With shuddering hands she wiped the tears from her eyes, cupped his cheeks in her palms and stared down into his face. The secretive face now open and unassuming, pinched and bloody yet beautiful… Her own expression was now calm as she leaned forward and kissed him tenderly on the cold yet still passionate lips.

"Ah'm comin' back, Remy," she murmured against his mouth. "Ah'm comin' back. And then Ah'm goin' t' take us both away."

She pulled - the contact was fleeting, gentle, ephemeral. It was enough. She only needed a smidgen of his psyche anyway. There - she'd crossed the barrier she'd sworn never to cross; she'd taken a part of him. Still, it was painful to break away, but there was little time left to do what she must; she sat up slowly, wiped the blood from his face with her sleeve with a tender attentiveness. Then she stood and trudged back onto the edge of the bank with broken steps. Below her, inside the Hound enclosure, one of the guards was just completing his round.

It was now or never.

-oOo-