Author's Note:

First off, this chapter is Rated M, but only because of one or two sentences or references (during an Apocalypse vision). I think it toys the line between T and MA, but I've decided if I wouldn't let my teen daughter read this, it belongs as an MA. Lol. (by that standard, I have a LOT of revising to do for my 'T' rated version. Yikes.)

Secondly:
Would those of you who read (and review) this story prefer:

LONGER chapters, with less of them (and longer stretches between updates),

OR

SHORTER chapters, with more of them (and less time between updates)

This is about a 30 page chapter and only contained a few key moments. The next chapter is almost double this size, and I haven't even started on it yet. It will probably take me close to 2 months to completely finish Chapter 21, OR I can break it into two chapters and update earlier. Let me know your preference.

Also, I very much enjoy throwing in Easter Eggs from all the iterations of X-Men. There are quotes and references from all the different mediums, so drop a comment when you find (and enjoy) one!

** If the writing on the first scene confuses you about where everyone is sitting, below is a list of where everyone has been placed. You have no idea how many times I revised this to get it JUST right based on each character, their interactions with others, and the nuances of their internal struggles. At first they were just thrown around willy-nilly, but as I started writing, I realized that the characters themselves would have chosen different seating arrangements, so I had to revise everything.

There are multiple reasons why everyone is sitting where they are. I had to DIAGRAM this seating arrangement. Seriously… So. Much. Thought. If you tell me I forgot someone, or that my arrangement is off, I might have to block you. Lol.

Xavier (head)

Jean, Amara, Ray, Rahne, Jamie, Betsy, Wanda, Tabitha, Logan, Sam, Ororo,

Fred (end)

Beast, Roberto, Bobby, Jubilee, Scott, (Rogue), Kurt, Kitty, Lance, Pietro, Toad

Also, you'll start to notice some time discrepencies (switching back and forth between a later and earlier time). This is intentional.

*** Thanks so much to A.J., imaMillipede, and Maedelin for their awesome reviews both here and on AO3 - I absolutely LOVE your feedback and investment in this story. You guys have awesome ideas that have really inspired me to stick with this and see it through to the end. *Thanks to AJ for the dance scene suggestion. I totally changed my ideas for the final scenes based on her review/PM thoughts and it made this ending work so much better. ;)

~X~X~X~X~X~

CHAPTER 20:

INTIMATE ENCOUNTERS

~X~X~X~X~X~

In the sitting room at the Xavier Institute for Higher Learning, two dozen chairs were arranged in two straight lines along several dining tables.

Jubilee, Jamie, Ray, and Roberto had set everything up, with 6 additional places for their guests - all 5 members of the Brotherhood plus Betsy Braddock, the grief counselor.

Twenty-three mutants sat quietly as they passed around the large meal Ororo, Amara, Jean, Sam, and Rahne had helped prepare. Turkey, ham, mashed potatoes and gravy, roasted potatoes, candied yams, glazed carrots, green beans, corn, rolls, corn bread, and several varieties of pie adorned nearly every inch of the table like a morose Thanksgiving dinner.

Even Fred Dukes, who sat at the opposite end from Xavier, remembered his table manners for once, allowing everyone else to at least fill their first plate before he asked for seconds. With a little prompting from Storm at his left, he managed to use his silverware - and napkin - properly as well.

Being the largest person at the table, Blob required the most elbow room, so he'd naturally been given the seat at the end. As soon as he'd sat down, the other Brotherhood boys had followed. Pietro HAD saved a seat for his sister, but Wanda had chosen - rather uncharacteristically - to sit next to Betsy instead.

And, of course, Logan and Ororo had chosen spots near the Brotherhood in an effort to keep close tabs on them and (hopefully) circumvent any issues. That, and Wolverine wanted to keep an eye on Lance and Kitty and their growing relationship.

Betsy, who sat across from one sad, empty place at the middle of the table, glanced around at the sullen faces and cleared her throat.

"So Charles," she began, the first to break the strangling silence, "am I to understand that the funeral services are to be held tomorrow evening?"

Pausing mid-bite at the head of the table, Xavier lowered his fork with a sigh. "Yes, Betsy, they will. At 6pm."

"Do you have anything in particular planned?"

At the mention of the funeral, Kurt shifted uncomfortably, his tail switching. Kurt sat adjacent to Betsy, just to the right of the unoccupied seat. On Kurt's other side was Kitty, with Wanda and Tabitha sitting across from him.

"It will be a fairly simple service. I've asked Ororo to speak, and Hank, you'll dedicate the space?"

The blue furred mutant on Xavier's right hand side nodded solemnly. "I've marked a few passages, yes." Next to Beast was Roberto, followed by Bobby, Jubilee, Sam, and Scott. Every few minutes the team leader would look at the empty chair to his left and clench his jaw.

The younger mutants had opted to (mostly) stick together for dinner. Only Sam Guthrie sat separate from them, choosing a spot between Logan and Storm and across from Quicksilver. He claimed he was trying to encourage friendship and camaraderie between the X-Men and the Brotherhood, but he was also feeling the sting of Rogue's loss. For the same reason he had chosen to help make dinner, Sam had strategically placed himself near Ororo, whose motherly disposition soothed and comforted the melancholy young man.

"And what of the rest of you?" Betsy asked kindly, looking at Jamie, Scott, and Kitty in particular.

" I know Todd and Fred are working on something. Would anyone else like to say a few words?"

"Is that…" Jamie stuttered from his seat on Betsy's right, directly across from Scott. "Is that okay? I mean, can we?" He looked up at the purple haired telepath with interest. Like Sam, he craved the reassurance of someone he trusted, and he had developed an affinity for the purple-haired grief counselor.

A few of the older boys raised an eyebrow at the 12 year old's sudden eagerness.

"Of course, Jamie," Xavier smiled softly, yet sadly. "Anyone who wishes to do so may speak at the services. I think Rogue would have liked that."

Suddenly, two blue furred fists slammed down on the table, rattling the dishes and startling everyone.

"What she would LIKE," Kurt snarled, "is to be HOME!"

He shoved his chair back with such vehemence that it clattered to the floor. "I told you, she is NOT DEAD!" His vicious snarl showed off his white fangs, and the anger in his yellow eyes flashed, making him look deranged with rage.

"Kurt…" the Professor started, trying to console the young man.

"No!" He yelled, pounding his fists on the table again. "You can't plan her funeral when you haven't even TRIED looking for her!"

With a growl and a sneer at Xavier, Kurt ported out, leaving his untouched plate behind. Kitty started to get up, but Lance grabbed her unbandaged arm abruptly, beckoning her to sit back down. Meanwhile the other students - and Brotherhood - sat in shocked silence for a moment before they practically buzzed with whispers.

Betsy smiled softly at the Professor, whose forlorn countenance spoke volumes of his declining mental state, while Jean telekinetically put Kurt's chair upright again.

"Don't worry, Charles, I'll go talk to him a bit later - after he's had a chance to calm down." The purple haired telepath glanced discreetly at Jean, who was sitting across from Dr. McCoy on Xavier's left. "Although, I think it would be better for him to hear from someone like Jean, with whom he's closer, and can sympathize with how he feels."

A soft snort went unheard above the chatter that had erupted after Kurt's departure, and Tabitha leaned over to whisper in Wanda's ear. The Scarlet Witch had taken the chair between Betsy and Tabitha, directly across from Kurt's now empty chair. Tabitha had been eager to chat with her former roommates and Wanda - the only other girl who had lived with the Brotherhood (aside from Rogue).

"I thought we were trying to convince him that Rogue's DEAD, not that she didn't EXIST," the blonde snickered. Her "private" comment was overheard by Logan, however, who growled from Tabitha's left.

Scott glanced up at Boom Boom as well, fixing her with a hard stare, but he said nothing as he glanced down at Rogue's vacant place. The blonde at least had the decency to look embarrassed, and quickly picked up a forkful of green beans.

Jean cleared her throat slightly and spoke above the murmurs and whispers. She sat on Professor Xavier's left side; she had wanted to support him since she knew how hard he was taking Rogue's 'death'.

She had debated on saving a seat for Scott (especially after she'd overheard his conversation with Logan), but he had chosen to sit next to the empty place Kurt had claimed for Rogue. Between the conversation Jean had overheard from the girls, and Scott's distant behavior, she was feeling almost shunned in a place where she had once been revered.

"I - I think it was sweet of you guys to put a place for Rogue. It's a nice gesture." The redhead smiled kindly at Roberto and Jubilee, who were across the table from her. She was eager to show her teammates that she DID in fact care and wasn't completely unfeeling. Just because she showed her grief in different ways didn't mean she hadn't felt the loss.

Roberto, Ray, and Jamie snickered while Jubilee blushed furiously.

"Oh shut up you guys!" Jubilee seethed, her eyes suddenly moist. Bobby Drake put a comforting hand on her shoulder and shot a dirty look across the table at Ray while kicking Roberto who was on his left.

"Yeah," he defended the young Asian girl, "you know how hard math is with that dis-calculating thing." *

"Bobby!?" Jubilee hissed. "That was a SECRET!"

"What, that you're dyslexic, or that you're bad at math?" Iceman asked, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

"Certainly no' tha' she's bad a' math. Everyone 'ere knows that," Rahne snickered to Jamie.

Jubilee squeaked in response and buried her face in her hands.

"I believe I'm confused," Betsy spoke up. "Are you all truly making fun of your friend because she has a learning disability?"

Roberto, Rahne, and Jamie blushed furiously, casting their heads down in shame. Ray cleared his throat, sipping his water before he answered.

"The empty plate was an accident. Jubilee just counted wrong. We weren't laughing at her, we were laughing because it wasn't a 'nice gesture,' just a … mistake." Berserker trailed off as he and the other students at the table looked despondently at the empty place.

This time Jean's ears turned red as she felt the sting of her own embarrassment. She looked across the table to Scott, hoping he would give her a comforting smile or a mental hug, but he was currently staring, transfixed, at what should have been Rogue's place.

Professor Xavier must have felt Jean's turmoil, as he leaned over and gently patted her hand, smiling compassionately.

"So… BETSY…" Pietro purred, breaking the awkward silence from the far side of the table between Lance and Toad, "you sure look familiar. Have you lived in England your entire life?"

The purple haired grief counselor pursed her lips, smiling deviously. "Why no, I haven't," she replied almost seductively. "I was a model a few years back, when I was younger, then I became a charter pilot for 'S.T.R.I.K.E.' for a short stint."

Ms. Braddock leaned forward, looking down the table at Logan, who sat across from Lance between Tabitha and Sam. "We actually worked with S.H.I.E.L.D. briefly before I 'retired' to become a grief counselor."

"Hey, ain't S.H.I.E.L.D. that government agency YOU worked with, Logan?" Sam questioned the man sitting at his right.

One piercing look from the gruff Canadian, however, and Sam practically disappeared into his mashed potatoes as he shrunk down. Ororo put a comforting hand on the boy's shoulder.

"Yes, well, I'm afraid those agencies are very secretive. We wouldn't be allowed to discuss any of the details from those missions, regardless." Betsy consoled the Kentucky native.

"Or we'd have to kill ya," Wolverine grinned, the corner of his mouth turning up into a dangerous sneer.

The students, and most of the adults, looked doubtfully at Ms. Braddock, but seeing the matching smile on her face gave them no reassurance.

"So, this model thing," Todd asked zealously, "you uh, you got any pictures of uh, of your work?"

"No, but I'm sure it's popular enough that it won't take a great deal of digging to find. Perhaps you can ask Pietro about it. He seems to know something about it," Betsy replied coyly, a secretive smile playing at her lips. A few of the boys made indescribable noises in their throat and Lance choked on his bite of turkey. Quicksilver quickly thumped him on the back, snickering, while Kitty glared.

Before the conversation could deteriorate further, Xavier cleared his throat, pushing his chair back from the table. His napkin lay over his plate of food, indicating his intent.

"I'm afraid it's been quite a long day. I think I shall retire a little early tonight," he sighed. As an afterthought, he looked toward the other end of the table. "Oh, and Kitty? Spyke has been in contact with me. The Morlocks have a healer who is coming tomorrow to see to your arm. I'm not sure the time, but it should be before the services."

Kitty bit her lip and nodded, glancing down at the bandages still covering her arm. The young brunette was partly relieved that she wouldn't have to deal with the pain - or scars - caused by the burns, but she also felt a little guilty.

"Thank you, Professor."

With an almost apologetic smile to the rest of the group, Xavier maneuvered his wheelchair out of the newly erected dining area and headed for bed.

Later, as Jean helped a few other students clear the table and wash dishes, the redhead picked up Professor Xavier's plate and bit her lip. Lifting the napkin, she sighed.

Like Kurt, he had not touched his food.

~X~X~X~

It was a cool, crisp evening in New York - unseasonably cool, in fact. A single student was perched on a barstool in the kitchen and huddled in a large, flannel blanket. A pale hand with long, lithe fingers gripped a warm cup of hot chocolate. The hand's owner - a young woman - was barely visible beneath the comforter, but her wavy chestnut hair poked out at the top, her sun streaked face framed by long white bangs.

Rogue was waiting, for what she couldn't remember, and the warmth of the blanket and the hot chocolate in her hand contrasted sharply with the chilly temperature in the room. She sighed comfortably and snuggled deeper into the warmth, her eyes drifting listlessly around the quiet kitchen.

"Rogue?" a voice called. The young woman opened her eyes to stare at Logan, who had appeared seemingly from nowhere.

The southerner stared at her mentor quizzically as he suddenly turned angry.

"What's the matter, Logan?" she asked quietly, her voice harsh and gravelly. She wanted to bring the cup of hot chocolate to her lips to soothe her dry throat, but it was unexpectedly heavy and refused to move from her lap.

Growling, Wolverine pointed his claws at her. "What do you think yer doing? You ain't supposed t' be here."

Dread settled in the young woman's bones, weighing her down and making her stomach lurch.

"Wh-what?" she asked, almost frantically. She wanted to jump up and run to him, hug him even, but the blanket was so warm and cozy that she couldn't bring herself to move. Shifting on the uncomfortable bar stool, she watched as the man grew angrier.

"You don't belong here. You ain't an X-Man any more, Rogue."

"Of - of course Ah am! Logan, what's wrong with you!?"

The older X-Man suddenly slammed his palms onto the counter in front of her, making her flinch.

"You betrayed us - just so you could touch that Cajun." Wolverine insisted, his eyes narrowed, claws still extended.

"No!" she shouted, trying to jump up from her chair. The blanket hindered her movement, however, and she was frozen in place, forced to stare down a livid Wolverine.

"You belong to Apocalypse now, kid. You killed your friends for him!" He raised his hand, pointing out the window with his claws, and Rogue turned her head to stare.

Outside on the back lawn, the X-Men - all her friends, her family - were sprawled throughout the red-splattered grass, their lives extinguished. In the distance, she could see a familiar, tall figure with glowing red eyes and a long brown duster. Beside him was Apocalypse, a lascivious sneer playing on his lips.

"NO!" Rogue cried, trying to hide her face from the gruesome sight.

"Shh, shh, it's okay, Rogue. It's okay." A second voice, husky, quiet, and calm, soothed her, whispering in her ear.

The blanket on her shoulders enveloped her further as she clutched the cup of hot chocolate tightly against her churning stomach.

Tears rolled down her face as she dared glance back at Wolverine. His eyes, ears, and nose were suddenly dripping blood as his eyes rolled back in his head. She shrieked again, but the sound was choked, as if she couldn't open her mouth, and she hung her head, sobbing.

"It's okay, chère; 's just a dream. Come back now," the voice called again, and Rogue buried her head in the edge of the blanket. A soft, familiar tune drifted into her ears; the words and melody playing in her mind like a soothing balm.

"Fais dodo, Colas, mon petit frère; fais dodo t'auras du lolo."

Rogue took a deep breath, inhaling through her nose sharply as the music slowly roused her.

"Dat's right petite, come back now. It's alright. Just a dream."

A few more deep breaths and the young southerner could feel a soft, warm hand rub up and down her arm, ghosting over her hair as her head flopped back against something solid. The blanket surrounding her back and shoulders took on a defined, muscular shape, and the cup of hot chocolate slowly melted into strong, firm fingers.

Another deep breath and Rogue's eyes fluttered open languidly as bright sunlight and blue sky invaded her vision.

"Dere you are, ma chère. Welcome back." Remy's spicy Cajun patois filled her ears and the young woman inhaled sharply as she gradually returned to her senses.

Blinking rapidly, she struggled to sit upright. Her head was flopped against Remy's shoulder while his opposite arm was snaked around her waist, anchoring her against his chest. His fingers were curled around hers, their hands subconsciously interlocked.

"Wha- what happened?" Rogue asked, looking around the forest in bewilderment. For a moment she had forgotten they were still in the woods, on the run from Apocalypse, and she certainly didn't remember falling asleep.

"Guess we took a nap," Remy chuckled lightly. He had yet to move from the log where they were seated, and he seemed more than content with their current closeness. "You had a nightmare, started moanin', and woke me up. Thank God ya came back so quick. Must not have been a vision dis time, non?"

Rogue shook her head to indicate it had NOT been Apocalypse this time, and she shifted uncomfortably, moving to extract herself from Remy's lap. Her cheeks were starting to flush with color as she realized that she had fallen asleep cuddled up against him.

Without a word, he climbed off the log, letting his hand linger in hers as he helped her stand as well.

"Ooohh," Rogue groaned, wincing as her feet took on her full weight again. Her tailbone protested from sitting on the hard log and her hips ached. She realized, however, that her back and neck weren't as tight and sore as they had been before their nap (and the massage), and she rolled her head around, stretching her shoulders carefully. She didn't want to disturb her broken ribs, but her anxiousness required movement.

The southern girl refused to acknowledge their precarious position and 'nap', focusing on the sun and figuring out the time of day instead. Her stomach lurched angrily, demanding sustenance that didn't consist of bugs or flowers.

It had to be close to dinner time by the way her body was protesting.

"Looks like 5:30, maybe 6," Remy interjected, confirming Rogue's suspicions. "We musta been out at least 2 hours," he marveled. "Can't believe we slept dat long."

The blush on the X-Man's cheeks deepened, and she averted her gaze.

"We best get a move on then," Rogue suggested quickly. "Only gives us a few hours of daylight left t' get the heck out of here. Wouldn't want Apocalypse t' know where we've been."

Remy nodded and quickly pulled his clothes back on while Rogue donned the trenchcoat, shivering lightly. The Cajun resisted the urge to pull her close and rub some warmth into her arms, and instead turned his back to her, dipping down on one knee so she could ride piggyback again.

Rogue's loud, exasperated sigh as she hitched her leg over Remy's hips made him chuckle, but the cajun said nothing. He knew she was unnerved by their unintended cuddling and nap, and he didn't want to push his luck with her rapidly shifting moods.

"You need a blindfold, or you gonna be able t' keep 'em shut?"

"Ah'm fine, Swamp Rat," she growled, her irritation growing.

Yep, bad mood again. He had no doubt that her sudden sensitivity was related to the way they'd woken up together. Two steps forward and one step back - that was definitely how she operated, whether she realized it or not.

Remy took a deep breath as he stood with Rogue on his back and charted a new direction, giving her a few minutes of quiet before starting another round of questions.

~X~

The next hour was rife with awkward tension as Remy tried to get the southern girl to talk to him again without snarling. After the umpteenth sarcastic retort and dozenth insult, however, he'd had enough.

Abruptly kneeling and practically tossing Rogue off his back, Remy whirled on her, his eyes flashing angrily.

The X-Man's brows were furrowed with indignation, but her eyes were wide as she stared at him, open mouthed. Any words of protest died on her lips as she took in his enraged countenance.

"Dammit, Rogue, enough!" Gambit hissed, trying to keep the volume of his voice down despite the intensity of it. "I know ya ain't happy 'bout me fallin' asleep like dat wit 'cha, and I know dis whole mess - de touchin, de sharin', de talkin' - de INTIMACY of it all - s'gotcha angry and embarrassed. But dat DON'T make it okay t' blame ME for it, d'accord?"

Scowling, the southern girl opened her mouth to retort, but Remy held a hand up, cutting her off.

"I ain't finished - I don't mind de snark and de sass. You've got a quick wit an' a sharp tongue, and I LIKE dat about you. You give dis one a run for his money. But, d'ere's banter and teasin', and den dere's dis angry, vengeful crap y'r pullin' right now."

Rogue's arms were folded haughtily as she glared at Gambit, but his own body language was calm and relaxed despite the harshness of his voice and words.

"I know y'r tired, and hungry, and hurtin'. I am too. But I been bustin' my ass tryin' to HELP you. I ain't gonna leave ya on y'r own, and I ain't gonna stop pushin' you. But I also ain't gonna let ya use me as a punchin' bag just 'cause y'r feelin' embarrassed."

The familiar blush rose in Rogue's cheeks, but instead of turning away in shame, she resolutely held Remy's gaze.

"I don't wanna force you into dis, chère," Remy continued in a gentler tone. "But we gotta do som'pin different here. All de personal bits and touchin' in de world ain't gonna save us if y'r always angry at moi for tryin'."

Rogue finally turned her eyes away from him, contemplating. She knew she was angry at him after their impromptu 'nap', and she knew he was right about that anger stemming from her own embarrassment and unease. She was mortified that she'd been snuggled up with an Acolyte, cozy as could be.

When this was all over, they would go their separate ways - be forced to fight on opposite sides again. All the closeness, all her slowly awakening feelings of trust and comfort and connection, would be washed aside as soon as they returned to civilization.

The thought made her stomach roll.

Of course, that might be the hunger, too. Or the grubs.

"I -" Rogue started softly, still staring at the ground. "Ah'm sorry. You're right. Ah ain't bein' fair. Like ya said, y'r just tryin' t' help. Just… doin' y'r job." She bit her lip, trying to keep the emotion from her eyes.

Her last sentiment came out as both a biting retort and a forlorn realization, and Remy stepped forward, putting his hands on her bare arms.

"Is dat what you t'ink dis is t' me, chère? A job?"

She shrugged noncommittally, but looked up at him once more. Her eyes were full of hurt, hope, and loneliness, and Remy finally understood another piece of the enigma that was Rogue.

"Lemme make dis clear den, Rogue," Remy began, looking deeply into her eyes. "Dis may have started as a 'luck of de draw' situation, but dis ain't a JOB t' me, d'accord? I would never use anything you've told me against you. I -'' He paused, his own nerves flaring up slightly. "I wanna be y'r FRIEND, Rogue. After dis is all over, I wanna stay in touch. Maybe go to a movie, or just hang out sometimes. 'Cause Gambit don't share his heart wit' no one but his nearest and dearest."

His confession was heavy and poignant, and, feeling suddenly vulnerable, Remy tried to lighten the mood.

"And y'r about de nearest one possible right now, n'est tu pas?" (aren't you?)

Rogue chuckled lightly, yet her eyes were misty as she swallowed hard.

"What d'ya say, chère? Friends?" He released her arms and held out his right hand.

She gave him a tilted half-smile and reciprocated.

"Friends."

~X~X~X~

It was somewhere around 10pm at the mansion and the students had transformed the main lounge into a massive fort of sorts. The students, plus the Brotherhood, had donned their pajamas and dragged in all manner of blankets, pillows, mattresses, and twinkling 'fairy lights' as they gathered together to have a movie marathon and sleepover.

Ororo and Beast had erected their own cots on opposite corners of the room, ensuring everyone behaved accordingly.

Logan sat in a lounge chair just outside the large room, reading a newspaper as he sipped a cup of hot cocoa. He may not be one for group activities, but he did want to stay close to make sure the Brotherhood didn't cause any trouble. Namely Lance, who was snuggled up with Kitty on a double sized air mattress. They were in separate sleeping bags, but their closeness still made the Canadian uncomfortable - and irrationally irate.

A pair of dainty purple slippers came into view below Logan's newspaper, and he sighed.

"I didn't think you the 'marshmallows in your cocoa' type, Logan," Betsy teased, her poised British accent relaxed with a hint of flirtatiousness mixed in. "And is that vanilla I smell?"

Wolverine nodded gruffly, folding his newspaper back up and placing it on the small coffee table next to his right elbow. He picked up the mug of cocoa and took another sip, inhaling deeply.

"It's Rogue's concoction. Every so often she'd be up late with nightmares or somethin' and we'd share a cup of cocoa at 2am. Never understood why she liked it so much, but it's growin' on me."

Betsy caught his mournful smile and put a hand on his shoulder. "I take it you two were close, then?"

The Canadian nodded silently, putting his mug on top of the newspaper. "She was good. One of the best, even. Smart, tough; had that kind of inner strength ya only pick up when life gives ya the hard knocks. All brass and sass and a wicked tongue t' boot."

"Reminds me of you," Betsy smiled, watching him closely.

Logan snorted, leaning over with his forearms on his lap as he hung his head.

"I'm sorry about Rogue, Logan. I can see how hard this is for you."

"Yeah, well. You know better'n most that it comes with the territory. I'm sorry about Lennox. I know that was hell for you, darlin'." **

Betsy stiffened, the reminder of her own loss like a knife through the heart. "Yes, well, as you said, we know better than most, don't we?" She paused, pushing back her own pain. "Look, Logan, after what happened with SHIELD and STRIKE… And now Rogue? I know you must be feeling…"

This time it was Logan's turn to bristle, and he stood abruptly, picking up his cup of cocoa and leaving the newspaper.

"Nope. I ain't havin' this conversation with you, Psylocke. Go poke around in someone else's noggin'. Check up on Jeannie, or Charles. I think he needs a 'grief counselor' more than he's lettin' on."

With that, Wolverine stalked away, heading toward the elevators and, presumably, the Danger Room.

~X~X~X~

"Ugh," Rogue complained, sitting astride Remy's hips again as he continued walking in the final hours of daylight. Although her eyes were closed, she knew the sun was sinking low on the horizon. Indeed, it was just visible above the immense, snow-capped mountains that surrounded the little wooded valley, heralding the end of their journey for the day.

"Ah wish ah could pull more of Ororo and Logan's memories," Rogue commented. "Maybe ah could help us figure out something else we could use for food or somethin'. All Ah got so far is usin' leaves t' insulate our clothes, and how t' make a fire with flint an' sticks. Plus all the things we've already been eatin' - crickets, grubs, worms, clover, dandelions, and berries ..."

Rogue's stomach churned again as she recalled the grubs and clover they'd consumed a short time ago. She was fairly certain both she and Gambit had picked up some kind of parasite - either from the bugs or the water - with as often as they seemed to be stopping for bathroom breaks.

"De leaves trick'll come in handy t'night, t' be true," Remy replied, his pace slowing as exhaustion set in. Rogue bit her lip. She felt horrible that he was expending so much energy just to cart her around like a toddler.

"It IS gettin' awful cold," she replied, shivering lightly. She was still wearing Remy's duster, but her exposed legs (not to mention her butt) were covered in goosebumps from the chill in the air.

"C'est vrai," (it's true) Remy agreed, finally stopping. "I'm gonna let ya down here, but keep y'r eyes closed, d'accord? Don't want Apocalypse t' see where we are or what I'm doin', but I need some time t' get leaves an' such so we can try and stay warm t'night."

Nodding hesitantly, Rogue slowly climbed off Remy's back with a bit of assistance. Once she was standing on her own again, she rubbed her arms.

"There anything Ah can do t' help?" she asked hopefully. She hated being waited on and not contributing. It just wasn't in her nature to be idle and helpless.

"Desole (sorry) chère, but non," the Cajun replied from a short distance away as he rummaged through something.

Although she couldn't see his face, she could hear the empathy and understanding in his voice.

When he put his arm around her waist unexpectedly, she shied away slightly. Thankfully, he only chuckled, keeping his hand on her hip.

"Skittish as a newborn foal, je jure (I swear)."

"Ain't MAH fault ya keep TICKLIN' me, Swamp Rat!" Rogue retorted hotly as she covered her sides.

"Oh, MIGNON," Gambit whispered seductively in her ear, "dat ain't nothin'. You are talkin' to a tickle-fight CHAMPION. Once y'r ribs are healed, you and me are gonna 'ave ourselves a REAL battle."

Rogue snorted dubiously, but couldn't help the hot flush that lit up her cheeks.

"Now," Remy continued, pulling her closer to him, "I need ya t' move wit' me. Found a bit of a decent shelter, but I need ya t' not SEE it, comprends (understand)?"

The southern girl nodded, swallowing hard as the blush crept farther down her face.

"Bien (good). Den we're gonna take about three steps forward, step over som'pin, den stop," he instructed lightly, but meticulously.

Rogue took a deep breath and the pair moved forward.

"Alright, now lift y'r leg up as far as y' can an' step over," Remy instructed, his arm still wrapped tightly around her waist.

As she picked up her right foot, she felt Remy do the same. The heel of her shoe caught on whatever it was she had stepped over, but the hand on her hip steadied her.

"Good," he praised her exuberantly, and Rogue rolled her eyes behind her closed lids.

"Now, I wan' ya down on all fours," the Cajun instructed, his tone husky, yet playful.

"EXCUSE ME?" Rogue railed, NEARLY opening her eyes as she turned away from the arm around her waist.

Remy laughed, "Sorry, chère, couldn't help teasin'. But I DO need ya t' crawl. It's a tight space, but just for a second. Once y'r inside, it gets a bit roomier. Ya won't be able t' sit up all de way, but it's big enough t' crawl inside. I'll tell ya when t' stop."

Hesitantly, but resolutely, Rogue allowed Remy to help her get down on her hands and knees before she crawled forward. The Cajun put his hand on her head as she passed under the narrow entrance, then removed it once she had crawled safely inside.

"Alright, now stop, den turn around an' sit tight f'r une minute. 'M gonna hand ya some branches an' such."

As she heard Remy leave the entrance of … whatever kind of shelter it was… Rogue kept her eyes shut, sitting hunched in the darkness for several minutes. She listened to the rustling of leaves and the steady sawing and breaking of branches. Every so often she heard the light thunk of tree limbs being dumped at the front of the shelter. She must have counted at least two dozen deposits before Remy spoke again.

"D'accord, 'm gonna hand ya some branches. Just set 'em next to ya, but try not t' move around too much and hurt y'r ribs. Den I'll climb in and arrange it."

Working together, they accomplished the task quickly. Rogue was surprised to feel that the stack was MUCH larger than she had first assumed. With her eyes closed, she measured that it had to be nearly as tall as her while she was hunched over. She heard Gambit fussing with something heavy at the entrance and listened intently. She could make out scraping and dragging noises between a few grunts and snorts. Whatever he was moving, it sounded heavy.

When the sounds ceased, she was startled by the sudden sensation of his warm hand on her shoulder.

"Easy petite, jus' moi," he chuckled. His voice turned serious, however, as he laid a piece of fabric in her open palm.

"You ain't gonna like dis none, but I t'ink it'd be best t' blindfold ya t'night. If'n you open y'r eyes and see where we are, it's gonna be like a neon sign for Apocalypse. We don' want you havin' any visions and givin' away our hidin' spot."

The southern girl licked her chapped lips and swallowed hard, but nodded. "Alright, if you think that's best, ah believe ya."

Although she couldn't see it, Remy smiled widely at her quick acceptance of his proposal. His smile grew as she lifted the scrap of black fabric up to her eyes and turned the back of her head toward him.

"Tie it for me?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper as she waited.

Gambit quickly complied, still grinning like a fool.

The two sat in silence for a moment, Rogue tilting her head slightly as she listened to the sounds of the approaching evening, and Remy simply watching her.

"So, um, now what?" the X-Man finally asked, turning toward where she presumed him to be. He hadn't moved or spoken for so long now she wasn't entirely sure if he was still in the same spot.

The Cajun cleared his throat and looked around. He was relieved she had accepted the blindfold so she couldn't see the blush dusting his own cheeks. "Well, I got some extra branches t' fortify 'gainst de cold, but you can't help wit' dat, an' I don' want 'ya t' hurt y'rself tryin' to cut de branches smaller either. So," he looked around in the dim light and shrugged, an evil smile growing on his face, "guess dere ain't much for you t' do, chèrie, but sit still an' look pretty."

Although she couldn't fix him with a death glare, Rogue's face twisted into a scowl all the same.

"Oh you Swamp Rat, ah oughta …" she raised a fist in his general direction, gasping lightly when he suddenly caught it between his hands and gently kissed her knuckles.

"Jus' teasin' petite, honest. But you should lie down. Wanna make sure I got enough branches t' cover us up t' keep warm. You can be my guinea pig."

"Oh goodie," Rogue retorted softly, still rolling her eyes behind the blindfold.

Carefully, and with a little guidance from Remy, Rogue did as instructed, laying on her side facing him. She took extra care to pull his coat tightly across her lap and legs to keep from revealing anything.

"Say 'when' once y' feel warmer, or it gets too heavy, d'accord?" he suggested again, and gently started laying several small branches along her arms and torso. After half a dozen of the thick green branches had been laid over her, Rogue spoke.

"When," she replied softly. "That's good."

"Warmer? Or too heavy?" Remy asked from within the darkness, his voice surprisingly close to her face.

"Warmer," she sighed.

Her eyes were already closed from underneath the blindfold, but she could feel her body relaxing now that she was off her feet and the chill was slowly dissipating. Whatever they were using as shelter was definitely helping keep out the cool evening air.

"Bien," Remy replied. "Den you settle in f'r a spell while I use some o' dese others t' insulate dis place better. It's gonna be a cold one t'night, n'est pas?" (isn't it?)

"Rrmm," the young woman murmured from beneath the 'blanket' of branches and leaves. She was already half asleep before Remy had finished his sentence.

The Acolyte chuckled softly and tucked a few more leaves around her.

"'Night, chère. Sweet Dreams."

~X~X~X~

Soft jazz music played from the dark club as Rogue swayed in time with the beat. Eyes closed, she inhaled the sweet, earthy aroma and enjoyed the warmth and closeness of Remy's body pressed against hers. She laid her head on his shoulder, cheek pressed against the soft muscle just below his clavicle.

She wore a sleeveless, sparkly green gown with wide straps that barely reached her shoulders. The front dipped down just enough to hint at her ample cleavage, but not enough to be considered immodest. The dress was long and form-fitting, reaching nearly to the floor with a single slit up the side that ended at her knee.

"Dis is nice, ain't it chère?" Remy murmured softly, moving one hand from her waist to stroke her hair softly. He wore black slacks with a white button up shirt and no tie. The white oxford was only three-quarters buttoned, with the top three left open to reveal his smooth, toned chest.

"Mmhmm," Rogue agreed, sighing contentedly. "Ah forgot how much Ah love places like this."

"Perfect taste a home, eh, Rogue?" His hands traveled across her shoulders, kneading and massaging gently, much as he had done in the woods.

She hummed in agreement.

"Glad you like it'," he admitted tenderly. "I wanted it all t' be perfect for you." He took her hands in his, pushing her away just enough so he could plant a kiss on her knuckles. "I wanna give you everything, ma petite."

Using the knuckle of his index finger, Remy lifted Rogue's chin so they were making eye contact. His red on black eyes glimmered in the darkness of the empty club, an unfamiliar look on his face as he leaned down. Gripping the lapels of his coat, her hands clenched in the material and subconsciously pulled him closer. Slowly, gently, his lips grazed hers like a whisper and Rogue felt her legs turn to jelly as her eyes fell closed.

With his knuckle still under her chin, Remy snaked the other hand around her waist, pulling her flush against him as he deepened the kiss. Her full, red lips were supple and sweet beneath his firm, eager mouth. As he tried pushing his tongue between her teeth, Rogue suddenly pulled back.

"Whoa, Cajun," she admonished, her hands flat against his chest. "Ah said we could be FRIENDS, remember? That's a bit too friendly for a first date, don'tcha think?" The southern girl swallowed hard and licked her lips, suddenly remembering how dry and chapped they felt.

"Come now, Rogue," Remy chastised, his arm still around her waist, anchoring her against him, "what's a first date compared to a millenia?" His voice took on a thick, cold patois as he uttered the last word.

Brows furrowed in confusion, Rogue stared up at him for a moment. His red and black eyes shimmered violet, as his arms became impossibly tight around her waist.

Suddenly Apocalypse was standing before her, his height surpassing hers by at least a full foot. His long, muscular arms trapped her body against his, and Rogue reached up, trying to push him away.

"No!" she yelled, her brain flooding with terror.

"I did not lie when I said I wanted to give you everything, Rogue," Apocalypse admitted. "We will become one, and then you will be my queen. Whatever your heart desires shall be yours. And you will be mine. Forever."

"NO!"

Rogue pounded her fists against Apocalypse's chest again and again, but he merely grasped her wrists in his hands, dragging them up over her head and letting her feet dangle off the ground.

She started to scream a third time. He crushed his mouth against hers and she tried to maneuver her face away from him. Her body refused to cooperate, though, and frightened tears sprang to her eyes. His lips were still pressed against hers as he gathered both her wrists in one hand and reached down to grope at the wet heat hidden beneath her sparkly green dress.

Before he could press his fingers into her depths, Rogue gave a guttural growl and kicked out at him frantically, causing him to drop her as she connected with his groin.

"You will not escape me," Apocalypse sneered, towering over her while she struggled to get her bearings.

Scrambling onto her hands and knees, she crawled away, quickly reaching the large door with "EXIT" written in bright green letters. She grabbed at the handle, pushing and pulling, but the door wouldn't budge.

Apocalypse allowed her to struggle with the door for a moment before grasping her around the waist and flipping her onto her back. Instantly he was upon her, his legs, waist, chest, and hips working in unison to hold her down.

She cried out again, and once more he impeded her screams with his mouth. Even with his massive weight crushing down on her broken ribs and exhausted body, Rogue continued trying to fight him. Tears pooled and fell down her cheeks as Apocalypse simply lay on top of her, whispering in her ear.

"You are mine, Rogue." "Fais dodo, chère, fais dodo."

Simultaneously, a second voice called to her, fighting for her attention as it contended with Apocalypse. The X-Man inhaled sharply, trying to focus on the real Remy and the song she could hear ever so faintly, as if it were being played from another room.

"Fais dodo Colas mon p'tite frère; fais dodo t'auras du lolo…"

"Remy," she whispered, screwing her eyes shut and pushing out all thoughts of Apocalypse. She focused instead on Gambit's voice, his hands, his warmth.

"Ta soeur est en haut; elle fait des chapeaux; Ton frère est en bas il fait des nougats."

The song continued, louder this time, and Rogue focused all her mental energy on imagining herself being imbued with incredible strength. She couldn't lift her arms up, but she tried to remember Wolverine's combat training. All those years of working with him one-on-one in their martial arts lessons flew to the forefront of her terrified brain, the comfort of the song lending her more power.

She wrenched her hands outward, spread eagle, and Apocalypse's strength waned as he was forced to spread his hands as well. The unexpected movement threw off his concentration just long enough for Rogue to twist her lower half, hooking her left leg over the larger mutant's opposite side and pushing at the same time she pulled her hands down further.

The sudden redistribution of weight threw the maniac off balance, and Rogue was able to push him over before rolling the opposite way. They both stood quickly, but the X-Man closed her eyes and imagined a mental barrier between them.

"Fais dodo, Colas mon p'tite frere, fais dodo t'auras du lolo. Rogue, wake up, s'il vous plaît. Wake up."

Rogue took a deep breath as Apocalypse slammed furiously on her mental barricade and focused on what she could feel with her physical body. Hands rubbing up and down her arms, a hard, warm chest pressed against her back; strong legs wrapped around and over hers; a cheek resting against her ear; and urgent, caring lips dropping tiny, featherlight kisses on her cheek and forehead.

"Remy," the X-Man called out, closing her eyes tightly as she slowly shut out Apocalypse's shouts and pounding fists. "Remy, help me."

"I'm here, chère, I'm here. Come back t' me now. Focus on m' voice. Feel y'rself come returnin' to y'r body."

Strengthening her mental barriers against Apocalypse, she listened to Gambit's words and felt his body shift beneath hers. With a final push within her mind, she opened her eyes again, seeing only darkness.

For a moment she started to panic - the inability to see anything terrifying her almost as much as the vision.

"Shh, shh, it's alright," Remy crooned, petting her hair back from her face. "Dat you now, chère? You back wit' me again?" His voice was grated and harsh, and strained with emotion.

Nodding, Rogue took another deep breath and licked her chapped lips. "Y-yeah," she whispered back shakily.

"M' gonna take off d' blindfold for une minute, just try not t' look around much, okay? It's still pretty dark, but dere's a few hours til daylight yet."

She nodded vigorously, and he slowly drew her face up toward his, pushing the flimsy fabric down to her neck. One hand rested on her cheek, his fingers attempting to shield her eyes from seeing their surroundings as he kept her eyes turned toward his.

"Hi," he smiled gently, almost gratefully, at her.

"Hi," she repeated shyly. Although she didn't dare look down, she could feel her body laying in front of Gambit's, her torso twisted slightly against his as he cradled her in his arms. Her legs were splayed out in front of her, and Remy had brought his legs up and over hers, with his knees on top of thighs and his ankles tucked under her calves.

She could feel the cold night air against her … unmentionables… and blushed again.

"Sorry," he apologized quickly, unraveling his feet and legs from hers. "You were thrashin' around again and tryin' to get out. T'ank god I decided t' blockade d' opening."

Rogue swallowed hard, her throat dry and voice raspy. "Th-thanks… for stoppin' me." She paused, shivering lightly from a combination of the cold and her own lingering fear. "And for singin'. Ah -" she swallowed again, nervously. "Ah could HEAR you. It helped me fight back. Reminded me that it was all in mah mind and that Ah had power, too."

She blushed again, but this time it was more from the pride and adoration she could see reflected in Remy's red eyes.

He wrapped her in another hug, rubbing up and down her coat-covered arms, and Rogue put a hand over his.

"Remy!" she exclaimed, sitting up a little. "Yoh hands are like ICE, sugah!" Her genuine concern gave weight to her usually suppressed southern mannerisms.

The Acolyte shrugged one shoulder. "S' a bit cold. You been out for a while. How's y'r legs feel? Any better?"

Rogue realized for the first time that her shoes and the makeshift bandages had been removed, and she was wearing Remy's socks over her feet and calves instead. She glanced down briefly, but when her eyes drifted to the large log covering the dark entrance to their shelter, she quickly shut her eyes again.

"Mah toes are 'bout froze off, but at least ah can't feel the pain," she joked lightly, and gingerly rubbed her feet together for warmth. "Ah'm more worried 'bout you, though. You slept at all Remy?"

He shrugged against her shoulder again, but said nothing.

Rogue had to resist the urge to look around and sighed, keeping her eyes closed as she sat up away from Gambit.

No sooner had she moved away from his chest and lap than she shivered, the cold seeping past the coat she wore.

"It IS cold!" she exclaimed, biting her lip and rubbing her arms. Pulling her legs up to her chest, she tried to wrap the tangled coat around herself better and rubbed vigorously.

"Will…" she started timidly, "will you put the blindfold back on and… and lay down with me? For heat? We need t' keep warm and body heat's the best way t' do that."

Remy remained silent, but quietly unknotted the makeshift blindfold from her neck and replaced it over her eyes.

"Thanks," she muttered quickly as she began shrugging out of the coat.

"Whoa!" Remy exclaimed, finally speaking as he put a hand on her arm. "What d'ya think y'r doin', chère? You need dat t' keep from freezin' t' death."

"Ah don't want YOU t' freeze either!" she retorted softly. "We'll both use it - like a blanket."

"You'll stay warmer if you use it like a COAT," he argued, pulling the garment up over her shoulders again.

"YOU'RE warmer than this silly old coat, Swamp Rat," Rogue teased, reaching back to cover his hand with hers. She squeezed his icy fingers, rubbing her thumb over his hand to lend him a little warmth. "At least, ya USUALLY are."

The X-Man shivered a third time, trying to keep her teeth from chattering. "Let's at least bunker down and put those leaves t' good use, huh?" she suggested.

"D'accord. Gambit can agree t' dat at least," he said from behind her.

Rogue snorted, but smiled as she heard him gathering the discarded tree limbs.

"Come lie down, chère, so I can cover ya better," Gambit encouraged, patting the ground.

"Uh, uh, Cajun," Rogue argued, folding her arms. Behind the blindfold she scrunched her face as if trying to narrow her eyes at him. "Not 'til YOU do. Ain't gonna let you sit in the cold all by y'r lonesome."

"Damn, but you ain't stubborn," Remy remarked, his tone a mix of irritation and amusement.

Rogue smirked, a coy, impish smile on her face. "Thought you liked that about me, Gambit."

"Not when y'r winnin'," he teased. With a tender touch, he pulled on her shoulders, coaxing her back toward him and positioning her to snuggle up against his side. With one hand behind her back, he carefully lowered them to the ground in tandem.

Remy tugged on the shoulder farthest from him, beckoning her to scoot closer.

"Turn y'r body into mine. You'll stay warmer dat way."

For once she didn't argue, and rolled over so her chest and stomach were pressed up against his side. Her breath hitched slightly as she felt Remy grasp the back of her knee and pull her leg up over his, tucking her toes beneath his calves and covering her up with the coat.

"Better?" he asked, his voice soft, yet husky.

Not trusting her own voice, she muttered in confirmation. "Mmhmm."

"Bien." He began tugging the branches over them, sitting up slightly so he could properly cover their feet and legs before burying the rest of their bodies under a blanket of leaves and branches.

Once he had effectively covered them in several layers of leaves, Rogue carefully repositioned her head on Remy's shoulder and snaked her arm over his torso, cuddling closer. His free arm reached across his chest to brace hers and he rested his cheek on the top of her head.

"Night Remy," the X-Man sighed, her eyes already closed behind the blindfold.

"Night, Rogue," he returned, smiling lightly as she pressed her body even closer to his.

Through the next few hours of darkness, the pair slept peacefully, undisturbed by the cold, bad dreams, or any other physical - or mental - discomforts.

It was, in fact, the best sleep of either of their lives.

~X~X~X~X~X~

Author's Notes:

*Jubilee actually suffers from dyscalculia. I'm in a "X-Men Addicts" FB group who discuss these things at length and actually give sources for the info. I've learned TONS about all the characters over the last few months.

**During Betsy Braddock's run in Marvel's "Captain Britain" comics, she met a man named Tom Lennox and they fell in love (Daredevil #3); Lennox died in Betsy's arms in "Mighty World of Marvel" between #8 & #13. (I am taking liberties with Wolverine/Betsy's relationship; Betsy worked for S.T.R.I.K.E., but the two never actually met.) Psylocke was first introduced to the X-Men in New Mutants Annual #2). Although this information isn't necessary to the story, I feel like it gives depth to her character and ties in a piece of her comic book history with the EVO universe.

I pumped this bad boy out in RECORD time (IMO - 12 days). I was very motivated by the amazing reviews from A.J., Maedelin, and immaMillipede on both FFN AND AO3. And yes, I do tend to average about a page a day. I have 3 kids, multiple volunteer/leadership roles, and other things that tend to take up my time. I ignore my house work in order to write, but I revise about 6 times before I post. I seriously have to re-read the entire chapter before I can continue writing it each day. Otherwise I forget the emotions and the direction I was going with and things feel off. (Thanks ADHD)

I debated on continuing this chapter and making it longer, but ultimately it felt like a natural conclusion to their (extremely long) day.

This concludes Rogue and Gambit's third night, and third full day, of being in the wilderness. Two days, and two nights, to go.

Let me know if you prefer slightly longer chapters with fewer updates, shorter chapters (like half this size) with more frequent updates, or these 30 page average chapters with updates between 2 and 4 weeks.

Chapter 21 Breakdown: (Need Title Suggestions)

-You and I Collide" Morning-

-The Letter

-Close calls

-Betsy & Xavier (Depression)

%%-Poison Ivy & mud baths

At the Institute (I need suggestions!)

-Changing Weather: Rogue/Remy -

-Jean (? May cut this out)

-Bad Berries

-Wanda, Blob, Toad:

-Bad Weather/Building a Shelter

Finally, I just have to make a note that my heart goes out to ALL the innocent men, women, and children on all sides of these wars. The loss and devastation is unfathomable and my heart hurts for all those affected.

Love, Light, and Prayers,

Wiccamage