Happy Romy week!

Since this is an AU,.I have taken a lot of license with the Outback Era continuity. Claremont gave those poor characters no room to breathe!

Also, Rogue is older in this. Imagine that she's the 20 year-old she was in the Rogue and Gambit version of their first meeting, rather than the maybe 17 she was in the run.

The title is from Hyakunin Isshu 57 by Murasaki Shikibu. I've gotten back into Chihayafuru.

The Midnight Moon

Life in the Outback had gotten dull for Rogue, since Longshot had quit to find himself and Dazzler only left her room for missions or the occasional gig at a local bar. The days stretched on, dry and empty as the desert around them. She'd tried to spark something with Piotr, but the dumb lunk didn't seem to catch on. Or maybe he did and it was his way of letting her down gently. Who'd want a girl he couldn't touch?

Carol found ways to fill empty days. Rogue woke up to clothes she'd never bought, meals she'd never ordered, acquaintances she'd never met. Once, she'd even come to in the cockpit of a plane that she didn't know how to fly. She'd had to break lthrough the glass and dive down to catch the chassis before it crashed into Yalgoo.

She was relieved when Logan asked her on a mission. Through Sunfire, they'd gotten word of a heist going down in Tokyo. An anti-mutant group had paid the Japanese thieves' guild to steal some of the government's intel on mutant threats. Same old, same old, but something to do. Shiro was going to take the fight to the bigots, but he wanted the X-Men to make sure the thieves left either empty-handed or with no hands at all. He'd made it clear which he'd prefer.

Late that night, Gateway teleported them to the roof of a warehouse next to the squat, grey government building where Sunfire had said the files were stored. On paper, it was a storage facility just like any other, filled with the detritus of bureaucracy. The banality of hate.

Wolverine crouched down and tapped at a small device he pulled out of his waist pouch.

"Damnit."

"Can't crack the security?" Rogue asked.

"It's already been overridden. Our thief's here."

"So no time for slow and subtle," she shrugged, "Ain't like either of us is good at that."

Picking up Wolverine by his armpits, she flew over to the government building, and hovered just above the entrance. She scanned the ground beneath her. A security guard leaned against the front door, humming idly to himself, cleaning out his ear with a pen.

"I take him down; you take what he knows," Wolverine murmured, putting an arm around her neck and drawing his legs up so she could boost him, "Wanna sub for Pete?"

"Petey and Sandy both got nothing on me, sugar."

Rogue slid her hands under his feet and catapulted him down towards the guard. Before he could react, Wolverine had him pinned to the ground, cheek pressed against the concrete, thrashing and squirming. Rogue stripped off a glove and touched her fingertips to his face. He slumped forward and his memories flooded into her mind. Getting dressed in his blue uniform. Eating natto and rice for breakfast. Kissing his wife before telling her ittekimasu. Reading through the security briefing for the day. Patrolling the halls, his nightstick slapping against his leg.

Wolverine's hand on her shoulder, "You okay, kid?"

"Genki desu," she replied, and then shook her head, "Uh, yeah, I'll be fine, sugar. We're looking for the server room on the second floor."

Checking the man's watch, she added, "We got about two minutes until a patrol comes by."

She unclipped the keycard from the guard's belt and held it to the sensor on the wall. Wolverine tossed the man over his shoulder and carried him with them as they entered the lobby. While she closed and locked the door, he dropped the guard out of sight in the bathroom to wake up with a headache and a hell of a story several hours later.

Location secured, they ran up the stairs and opened the door onto the second floor. The corridor was brightly lit, fluorescents illuminating drab green walls and dingy tile. One of the lights buzzed like a lethargic fly. She signalled for Wolverine to follow her around the corner, where a sign read "サーバールーム".

"Gonna check for our new friend."

She flew up to peer through the air grate, and cursed under her breath when she saw the thief. In the dim light of the server room, he was a tall, lean shadow, wrapped in a trenchcoat. His hands moved rapidly over the keyboard, tapping out commands. They'd arrived just in time.

"Yeah, he's already here."

"We got him cornered," Wolverine threw open the door.

As they entered the room, the thief pulled a USB stick out of one of the towers, and slipped it into the inside pocket of his long coat.

"Give yourself up," Wolverine growled, "You got nowhere to run."

The thief lifted his hands, but something flicked out of his palm as he did so, embedding itself in the wall. It vibrated and glowed. An explosive? Was he crazy? He'd take himself down with them.

"Get down," she yelled, lifting her arms and blocking her head against whatever was to come. Wolverine dove behind a server tower and flattened himself to the floor.

The wall exploded outwards, and the thief leapt through the gap in a cloud of smoke and debris.

"I got him," Rogue yelled to Wolverine, taking flight.

Below her, the thief had landed in a crouch, one palm on the ground to steady himself. She barreled into him, tackling him with her shoulder and sending him flying. Graceful as a cat, he twisted in midair and landed on his feet. She picked up some of the loose bricks and hucked them at him, and he cartwheeled out of the way. A show-off then.

"You greet all the boys like that?," he sounded amused, his accent warm and oddly familiar. It took her back to her childhood, to humid days by the Mississippi, and a new girl in her class who'd come up from near New Orleans. Some of the boys had teased her for being… Cajun? What was a Cajun thief doing working for the Japanese thieves' guild?

"Only the ones who like to play rough. Shame that you're on the same team as a bunch of bigots."

"I'm not working for the Sei Kyokai. They couldn't afford me, and I wouldn't take their money," he turned to face her. His eyes flared in the dim light, red on black. He was a mutant. And, damn, he was gorgeous. A sweep of brown hair. High cheekbones. Lips quirked in amusement. Just the right amount of scruff. If Piotr was a work of art, he was the whole Louvre.

"I've heard of you," Logan said, coming up behind her, "Mutant thief. Real Robin Hood type."

"I must be slipping," he said wryly, " I prefer folks not to have heard of me at all."

"What do you want with the data?"

"Nothing. I came to beat the Japanese guild to the bag. But I think maybe I found a bigger prize."

He looked at Rogue with frank and open interest, a man admiring a woman he wanted. No one looked at her like that, not without pity or sympathy, not without their gaze telling her what a crying shame it was that she had her powers. But then he didn't know. If he did, he'd be the same as all the others.

"I ain't a prize," she snapped.

He inclined his head in acknowledgement, "Mais, you'd still be worth winning."

"You can hand the USB over if you have no use for it," Logan stepped forward, putting himself between Rogue and the thief. She breathed in, told herself to stay calm. That swamprat probably flirted with everyone to get an advantage. She wasn't some wet-behind-the-ears rookie to get played by him. In fact, she could play him right back.

"Or come back with us, sugar," Rogue said, running her hand through her hair, pushing out her chest, and putting a little extra honey in her voice, "Sounds like we're on the same side. We should get to know each other better."

"Normally would say yes to a beautiful woman asking me home, chere," the word was a caress, "But I've heard of the X-Men too, and I'm not into that type of group scene."

Sliding out his claws, "We ain't giving you a choice, bub."

"Non?" he raised an eyebrow, and then everything around them was light and heat and noise. The ground exploded beneath them, sending them sprawling backwards, rubble showering down on them.

Coughing, ears ringing, Rogue slowly got back to her feet. She wiped the dust away from her eyes, spat to clear it out of her mouth. Wolverine swore in frustration beside her, cuts on his face and arms already closing.

"That boy's harder to catch than a greased hog."

"I'll track him down," Logan sniffed the air, "This way, kid."

And then they were off, Wolverine loping after the thief's scent, Rogue flying after him. He took them down narrow streets and across railway tracks, through quiet shrines and manicured gardens, over the flat rooftops of houses and the terraces of apartment buildings, into shopping and entertainment districts that teemed with pedestrians.

At last, as they leapt between yet another pair of buildings, she spotted him in the distance. He had paused on top of a balcony, sitting back on his heels in a half squat, coat swirling around him. He was looking down at the Yurakucho station, set in its circular plaza among glass skyscrapers, elevated tracks leading away from it. A bullet train thundered past as she watched.

"He's got to be going for a train."

"I don't know about that, kid."

The thief waved at them and flipped backwards off the roof before vanishing into a dark pathway under the tracks.

"Get us down there, Rogue."

Grasping Wolverine around the waist, she swooped down to the entrance where the thief had disappeared, set him on his feet, and then followed him through into a narrow alleyway, lined with brick arches that held the train tracks suspended in the air.

Wolverine stopped in the middle of the street. The empty spaces beneath the arches were filled with izakaya and yakitori stalls, lit by red lanterns, crowded with signs advertising specials and tables made out of stacked-up crates and stools pushed up to counters. There were people everywhere, sellers crying their wares, salarymen already drunk after long days in the office, tourists taking photos of everything. The air smelt of fragrant meat smoke and spilt beer.

"Multiple scent sources. Asshole must have come here earlier and planted his old skivvies or something," Logan said in disgust, "I lost him. I'll take the streets, you take the sky, but I doubt we'll find him. Remy LeBeau's got his reputation for a reason."

Remy LeBeau, Rogue thought, So that's your name. Scoundrel's name to go with the rest of you.

She said, "Do we need to worry about him handing it over to the SK?"

"Can't ever trust a thief," he replied, "He'll do whatever the hell he wants with it. Let's not give him the chance."

"Someone left a gift for you," Alex said around a mouthful of toast and marmite, as Rogue stumbled into the kitchen in search of coffee. It had been almost a week since she and Wolverine had tried and failed to catch the thief, and he'd scheduled extra training sessions for them so they wouldn't be caught, quote, "holding their own asses again."

"A gift?"

"Yeah," he nodded towards a small, gift-wrapped box sitting on the kitchen table. Rogue looked at it suspiciously. It wasn't her birthday, and, even when it was, none of her teammates were inclined to give her presents. It was most likely one of Carol's little surprises, precisely calculated to mess with her head. She didn't recall losing time, but then she didn't always. What was it this time? Lipstick in a shade that suited blondes? An Air Force medal? An engagement ring that she'd fret over for weeks?

The box had a tiny envelope attached to it, with "Rogue" written on it in a bold, flowing script that took up most of the space. She tore open the envelope, and slid out the card, running her eyes over the message.

"I would have got you diamonds, but thought you'd prefer this. RL."

RL? Remy LeBeau, she realized in a rush. Her heart pounding, she ripped off the paper and opened the box. A USB drive sat inside it, nestled like a jewel in a bed of deep green velvet.

"What is it?" Alex asked, as she ran out the kitchen. She raced down the hallway, threw open the door, flew up high to survey the desert that stretched out into the distance. She already knew it was pointless. Remy would be long gone.

Grinning, she hugged the box to herself, like a secret she didn't want to share. It looked like her life was about to get way more interesting.