Author's Note: Thanks for reading! Now for some backstory!

Chapter Fifteen

Thieves' Guild House

Rogue sat at a dressing table in Mercy's room, putting her hair up into a simple but elegant wrap-around bun. Mercy offered to have one of the girls do something more fancy for her but there was no point in risking accidental skin contact, not that she told Mercy that, she simply refused. The woman found it odd and didn't try to hide it, especially when Rogue went through every outfit of her size trying to find the one which covered the most skin… why was everything sleeveless, backless or really darn short?

Staring at herself in the mirror, her face dusted with makeup, hair up, and a shiny hunter green dress, she almost looked normal… she looked nothing like herself.

A swoop neckline, not too deep, teased the front as the back plunged to mid-length, just above the waist with a small slit up to her knees so she could walk. Overall, the dress was very flattering with no sleeves, just thick straps to keep everything from falling out.

For a very short moment in the quite of the bedroom Rogue dared to be Anna Marie again… a woman without a curse.

If only for a moment.

The image in the mirror changed, blonde hair and blue eyes staring back at her accusingly.

Pain shot through her temples again and she rested her head in her hands as she road it out. It was getting worse, the episodes coming closer together and becoming harder to press down. Why now? After eight years of carrying around Danvers psyche why now was she finding herself in a knock-down drag-out fight over her conscious?

"I think dese will do," Mercy came into the room with a bundle of gold fabric in her hands, Rogue shot her head up, trying to pretend she couldn't see Danvers still screaming at her from the mirror. "Gold will go great with da dress but clash with your hair, couldn't find matching in silver."

"It'll do fine, thank you," she smiled and pointed to the table for the woman to lay down the long gloves, shawl and clutch. Rogue tried to busy herself with a last dash of powder foundation, pressing the voices into the abyss.

"Don't know why you'd want to cover, you got beautiful skin, a bit pale, but flawless," the thief remarked and Rogue's first thought was 'because it never sees the light of day'. Mercy then pulled a box from her back pocket, "Oh, got icing for da cake." Opening the case she saw a set of earrings and a simple but beautiful necklace inside. "Diamonds go with everything."

Rogue had to chuckle, "Somehow I doubt yah paid for those."

"I have a receipt," she laid the open box down, "okay, I can produce a receipt," she grinned and pulled the necklace up, "da latch can be tricky, let me get it for you."

Mercy leaned over and Rogue instinctively wanted to bat the woman away but her arms and hands were bare as were Mercy's since she was wearing a sleeveless blouse. In a last second move to keep the woman from touching her, Rogue darted sideways, sliding off the chair due to the soft fabric. Unable to get her legs under her because of the slink of the dress she fell to the floor, forgetting for the moment she could fly she was so focused on not making contact.

"Rogue?" the look on Mercy's face was of complete confusion, but Southern manners kicked in, "Let me help you up."

"No!" she shouted at the woman more loudly than she would have liked, saying more quietly, "I got it," using her flying ability to rise up and straighten out.

The thief studied her before saying, "Take this however you want but dere is something wrong in your head, fille."

"Apparently I carry my burden there," she mumbled, Tante Mattie's words coming back to her.

"Excusez?" Mercy raised an eyebrow at her and when Rogue waved her off she said, "You're supposed to be watching Remy's back, and right now you're doing little to instill me with confidence."

"Not my problem," Rogue crossed her arms, partly to show her defiance but mostly because she was feeling naked without her gloves.

"Everything dealing with dis Guild is my problem," the woman gave a hard expression of determination that made the mutant pause. "Now, tell me, why do you act like everyone is a gator about to take your hand?"

"Or what?" she verbally lashed out, her head hurting, feeling exposed, not at her best, "Yah think yah could stop me?"

Mercy's eyes narrowed, "Don't underestimate me. Remy wasn't da only LeBeau who favored a strong woman who could handle herself."

"Oh, for tha love of—" she literally screamed in frustration, "there is nothing going on between me and Gambit, nothing will ever be going on between us…" her voice broke, emotions that she always tried to keep buried deep sneaking up and stabbing her right under the rib cage, "even if I wanted it… nothing ever could…"

The thief gave her the same confused look from before, but perhaps with a touch of empathy. "I don't understand."

Rogue dropped her crossed arms to stare at her hands, her nails short but neatly trimmed so they didn't snag on her gloves. They weren't painted, never manicured, she never saw the point to it, no one saw them. Her skin though, soft and free of any rough patches or calluses, and so very pale.

Tante Mattie was mad… nothing could fix this.

"Gambit," she said quietly, "he told yah about my flight and strength… but he didn't tell yah how I got them."

"You're a mutant," Mercy said the statement like it was the catch-all answer.

"That's tha why, but not tha how," Rogue couldn't believe she was about to tell an almost total stranger the truth, the whole truth, but since her mother died she hadn't really had anyone to talk to. As much as she cared for her Brotherhood brothers, she couldn't share this with them. Now, with everything going on in her head, Danvers trying to get out and Gambit trying to get in, Rogue needed to get the words off her chest, to say them out loud lest she forget them, and this thief… "They say there is honor among thieves, can I trust yah not ta repeat any of this?"

The blonde nodded with determination, "Yes, thief's honor."

Gambit had told her that you could trust the word of a great thief, and if Mercy was Matriarch of a whole Guild House then she had to be a great thief, good simply wouldn't cut it. She was also the beloved of Henri, and from what she knew of the man through what memories she had, he wouldn't have settled for anything less than honorable in the love of his life.

"When I was twelve, I kissed a boy," Rogue started from the beginning, flood gates opening up and experience telling her to just ride out the deluge, "his name was Cody, he was thirteen, my best friend, and it was a school yard dare."

Mercy listened quietly, attentively… sympathetically.

"When our skin touched," she could remember the moment more clear than any other event in her life, "my mutant abilities triggered for tha first time. Cody's… essence… poured into me. I could remember every baseball stat for tha Bulldogs, that I failed tha pop quiz, and that I'd rather be kissed by Susie Bendal… but those weren't my thoughts, not my memories."

"You… absorbed him?" and there was that familiar look, the one that crossed every person's face, well, except Gambit's, another troublesome thought that she pushed aside. But to Mercy's kindness, she recovered faster than most, "Was it just his thoughts, or his actual conscious?"

"Mostly tha former, but too much of tha latter," she shrugged, she hated putting her power into more than one word. "I can't control it, I touch someone and I get thoughts, usually whatever is handy, but I can search for specific ones if I'm quick enough. The drain knocks tha person out and tha longer I hold contact tha more I take and I risk putting them into a coma… I learned this because Cody… he's never woken up…" she failed to fight back every tear, one traitor escaping to slide down her cheek, "and I still know every stat for tha Bulldogs."

"I'm so sorry," came the woman's whispered words, an echoing declaration made by the few who knew the whole story.

Rogue let the woman have her hollow statement, composing herself, "With mutants I can touch them a little longer, not much though, their power acts as a buffer of sorts. I gain their ability, whatever they can do, I can do… for a time. Like with tha memories, the longer I hold on, the longer I have tha power. Hold on long enough… and… well…"

It only took the thief a second to realize what she was saying, "Da flight, strength… you… gained dem?"

"Gained, such a polite word," she gave a broken laugh, "I stole them. Took them from tha woman who murdered my mother. She's now in a coma herself, near enough to death, possibly worse." Rogue took a long deep breath, "I thought that's what I wanted when I found her, turns out, I was wrong. I use these powers because they are just so… darn… handy to have…" her voice turned icey, "and they remind me, remind me of what went wrong and why it can never happen again."

Mercy's expression changed, first realization of just how much experience Rogue had this little matter called revenge, then anger at helping Gambit walk the same path, then censure, "You said da road doesn't end."

"No," Rogue replied quietly, "just keeps on going…"

"Please," the thief's words were soft but pleading, "speak to Remy, tell him this, anything, get him to stop seeking revenge. I… I can't do it myself…" her eyes went downcast, "because I'm right dere beside him."

Rogue nearly panicked at the thought of telling the Cajun any of her secrets, hell, she wasn't even sure why she was telling them to Mercy except for the fact that saying the words gave her strength over them. "I can try," she eventually acquiesced, "but I doubt he'll listen."

"No, he will," she seemed certain, "You've earned his respect. Dat's at least enough to make him listen."

"A man can listen to words," Rogue shrugged, "don't mean he has ta do anything with them."

"Well," the thief offered a small smile, "at least dey will be rattling around in that brain of his."

"Might shake some sense loose?" she couldn't help a small chuckle.

"Would be nice," Mercy smiled a little broader, but then it fell. "Wait, what you said before, nothing could happen between you and him… because of your powers you can't… be… with anyone."

"Ugh," Rogue rolled her eyes, something else breaking inside, "that's always the first thing people think about, never mind the fact that I have ta be warm, all tha time. That I can't hug people without making a tactical plan. Forget club dancing, yah know," she waved her hands back and forth, "me and flailing arms don't mix. I can't even feel the gentle touch of a friend giving sympathy…" her voice trembled before she got angry, "People take tha tactile sense for granted, but for me it's a luxury. Yet they figure out what I can do and it's always 'yah can't have sex'. There is so much more ta this world than that."

Her rant over, Mercy stood a bit stunned, "I… I'm sorry, I didn't think."

"No, it's okay," she waved the woman off, rubbing her forehead, the voices getting riled, "I have a headache and I'm not too keen about tonight… I needed to vent. I should be tha one apologizing."

"No, you shouldn't," the thief said softly. "You just seem to cope pretty well, the way you act around Remy. I never would have guessed about your… condition."

"Yeah," Rogue gave a tired laugh, "It's my process, you see, they always get bored. First they think it's a challenge but there is no prize to win. The letches I get rid of pretty quickly. The decent ones, well, I may have a little fun but I don't make any bones about my mutation or lead them on… telling them to stop doesn't do any good either. So I wait it out and if tha guy is nice enough, honest enough, then maybe we can become good friends, because yah can never have too many of those."

Mercy smirked, "You think Remy is honest and nice?"

"Well… he's not been a letch," she ended up shaking her head at the memories of the past few days, "but honestly, that man confounds me. When this is all over, if I haven't killed him, I'll apply for sainthood."

The blonde chuckled, "He does have dat way with people," then she gave Rogue a once over, "and I'm in awe of how you handle your ability so well. I don't think I could."

"What choice do I have?" Rogue splayed her hands wide, "This is who I am, who I will always be. My mother would say 'Mutant and Proud'," she let her arms fall to her side, "besides, it's better than tha alternative. I think about my condition too much and what yah just saw would be me, every hour of every day, and I can't be that person… not if I want ta stay sane."

"Now that I do understand," Mercy gave her a sad smile and Rogue could see the pain of her husband's death in it. She mourned him, of course she did, but dwelling on it would drive her farther onto the path she was trying to get off of.

"You almost ready in dere?" a voice called from the closed door, sounded like Claude.

"Give us a couple more minutes," Mercy called back, realizing that the diamond necklace was still in her hand. "You still okay to go?"

"Yeah," she rubbed her left arm, still feeling a bit naked, "now and again I need ta let it out just so it don't end up rotting tha insides."

"I'm truly sorry about your mother, but I'm glad I could help today," the thief gave her a sympathetic smile, "now, let's get you ready for da party."

A few minutes later and Rogue had the long gloves on with the shawl draped around her neck to cover the rest. Mercy made sure it dropped to completely cover the back. Of course, this covered the beautiful necklace so she dug up a bracelet to complete the effect. Putting on a pair of gloves, Mercy did a little tweaking to the hair to make it appear more sophisticated. Rogue had to look like she belonged among the wealthy and powerful at the fundraiser…

"You'll turn heads," Mercy said, pleased with the outcome.

Rogue raised an eyebrow, "Aren't thieves supposed to blend in?"

"Are you kidding," she grinned, "you're da distraction. No one will notice Remy with you by his side."

"Except tha ladies," the mutant rolled her eyes.

Mercy took her by the arm and lead her towards the doorway, "You'll be da envy of da party, Rogue."

Walking out of the bedroom into the sitting area, Gambit was standing with his back to her, looking at something the red headed man from before was showing him, a file it looked like. Claude, dressed as a chauffeur, and a kid, maybe seventeen, stood in the group as well. At the noise of their entrance, the red head put the file in his jacket and all eyes turned towards them.

Well, the Cajun cleaned up pretty nice wearing a standard black tux, though with a bit of striping on the edges. He shaved and combed back his hair, this making him look more like his father in style than anything. No cane, probably a bit of a giveaway, though she had no doubt there was at least three decks of cards on his person, somewhere.

Examining his transformation she found that she liked him the other way, rough and rugged… not because it was a 'bad boy' image but because he looked about as comfortable in his refinery as she did in hers.

All four men did their version of checking her out, some more subtle than others.

"First one ta say something," Rogue said sweetly, "gets ta find out what it's like to be hit by a girl who can bench press a car."

The three men either gulped or swallowed hard. A smile curled on Gambit's lip, "Vous avez l'air absolument magnifique, Rogue."

"I'd hurt you," she crossed her arms, "but yah'd enjoy it too much."

That gained a hearty chuckle from the thief who then checked his watch, "About time to go."

"What's tha plan on getting in?" she asked, assuming that if this was a fundraiser then it would be invitation only or the tickets were costly. If it was paid entrance, would they be able to buy in at last minute?

"Fill you in on da way," Gambit offered his arm.

Rogue paused but then sighed, she needed to let him get it out of his system. It was her fault she egged him on as much as she did and she made a promise to herself to make a conscious effort to stop any more flirting with him… why she started to in the first place must have come from madness anyway.

Taking the arm, she also accepted a dark green clutch Mercy handed over. The two then walked down the steps towards the front door with Claude, at least half a dozen faces staring at them from every door way. Again, she wasn't comfortable being at the center of the storm that was Remy LeBeau and was thankful that he attempted nothing, not even playful banter, in full view of everyone. Maybe he was focused on the mission, maybe he figured out her trepidation and was being considerate… she wasn't sure which answer she preferred.