Getting Warmer

by Wiccamage

Updated 7/15/24! Ch. 24: Every action has a consequence, and every vision from Apocalypse brings more trouble. But this time, it isn't Rogue getting an unwanted visitor. / AU Dark Horizons. After defeating the XMen, Apocalypse takes Rogue as his queen. Will a certain Cajun be able to save her before the unthinkable happens?

22. Chapter 22: Weathering the Storm

~X~X~X~X~X~

Getting Warmer

Chapter 22:

~X~X~X~X~X~

Kitty stared absentmindedly out the window as she watched Betsy, Jean, Jamie, and Amara set up folding chairs out on the lawn. A small pulpit had been erected as well, with a long table adorned in a deep green, silk tablecloth, and white flowers. A picture of Rogue - a rare one of her with a tiny smile on her face - was placed in the middle of the table, directly in front of the pulpit. There were other pictures on the table as well, mostly of Rogue with the team, or with her friends. There was even one of Rogue laughing, with Kurt's arm draped around her and Kitty.

A few trinkets - a book by Emily Bronte, an Evanescence CD, a set of pearls in an antique jewelry box, even a pair of well-worn gloves - were laid out as well; tokens of the young woman's life. The only symbols they could find to represent who she was, who she had been behind the brooding, sometimes angry facade.

"How's that, Kitty?"

The deepened, somewhat unfamiliar voice called the young brunette back to reality. Sitting in the window seat overlooking the yard - Rogue's favorite place in the house (well, USED to be favorite) - Kitty turned to smile appreciatively at Spyke and his friend, Healer.

'Healer,' as the Morlock was called, was an aging man with long, unkempt gray hair and a matching beard. He had a magic touch, though, to be sure. Together, Spyke, the Morlock, Kitty, and Beast were seated in the window seat area of the front living room as Healer worked on her burns.

Kitty flexed her previously injured arm, turning it this way and that to examine the area where red and white scarred skin had earlier adorned the limb. It had taken the better part of an hour, but her arm was fully healed and back to normal now.

"That's much better. Thank you, Healer," Kitty smiled sweetly at the wizened old mutant, reaching her free hand out to shake his. The rough looking man's eyes crinkled in a smile as he took her hand in both of his and nodded.

"May I?" Beast asked from his seat next to Spyke, reaching his large blue paw out to Kitty.

The young woman smiled lightly and obliged him, letting him run his soft pads and long nails over her now flawless skin.

"Fascinating!" Beast exclaimed, barely noting the other's presence as he studied Healer's handiwork. "What an extraordinary gift you have, Healer!"

The old man smiled lightly at Beast and tilted his head in acknowledgement of the praise. He had remained silent throughout the few hours they'd been at the mansion, merely nodding and occasionally smiling in response to any questions. All the while Spyke remained by his side, communicating for him and talking to Beast about the Morlocks' most pressing needs and how they were able to get by.

Kitty marveled at how grown up Spyke had become since joining the Morlocks. He and Calisto had become co-leaders of sorts, and the former X-Man had taken on more responsibility than anyone had thought him capable of, especially considering how his first few years at Xavier's had gone.

The petite X-Man stared out at the lawns where Wanda, Pietro, and Lance were looking over Todd and Fred's 'memorial'. Even from this distance Kitty could see the Scarlet Witch trying to contain her grimace while Pietro simply laughed outright at the monstrosity. She saw Lance turn toward the window and wave, and Kitty wiggled her fingers back with a small smile.

"Man," Spyke spoke behind her, his deep voice undershadowed by his familiar slang. "Who would have thought the Brotherhood would start hanging out with the X-Men?"

"The friend who can be silent with us in a moment of despair or confusion, who can stay with us in an hour of grief and bereavement... that is a friend who cares. Henri Nouwen," Beast quoted, casting a knowing glance at the five Brotherhood members as they stood around the misshapen sculpture.

Spyke nodded, a knowing smile on his face as the blue furred mutant carefully put a paw on the young man's broad, bone-covered shoulder.

"It means much that you are here, Evan," Beast acknowledged. "Especially to Ororo."

"Like you said," Evan shrugged, "I care. Even if I'm not living with the X-Men, they're still family. Just like the Morlocks. Speaking of Auntie O, I need to go find her. She seems… off." A slight frown settled on Evan's bony face as the four mutants watched the Brotherhood absentmindedly.

Beast nodded, never taking his eyes off the strange memorial that was now glowing in pinks and blues under Wanda's powers. "Undoubtedly. I advise you to proceed with caution, however. I believe our dear Storm has taken up the mantle of shouldering everyone else's burdens and grief and not taken time to nurse her own. I fear that once she does, it could be disastrous for our ecological climate."

The ground shook slightly beneath their feet as they watched Lance stretch his hand toward the marble blob of a statue. As he did so, Pietro circled the object, and Wanda's powers enveloped it. A few moments later, the five Brotherhood members stood around the white marble slab, admiring their handiwork.

A beautiful cylindrical column with ornate carvings served as a base, while a flock of white doves seemed to take flight from the branches of a tree that rose out of the column. Together, and with Wanda's unpredictable powers, they had created something truly beautiful.

~X~X~X~

Rogue was walking on her own as Remy cleared a path for her. Well, walking was probably not the best choice of words.

Limping, shambling, even scuffling would have been more accurate.

At the lake, Remy had insisted that she have an extra layer of protection on her feet with as nasty as some of her blisters and wounds had gotten, so now she was also wearing his socks under the black scraps that served as leg wraps.

Remy didn't say it, but he was indeed fearful that she was developing gangrene. If by some miracle they avoided being captured, it wouldn't matter that he'd kept her safe from Apocalypse. He gave it another week, maybe two before the infection got so bad it killed her - especially if she had to keep walking like this. She could barely walk as it was, anyhow. Another two or three days and she'd probably be completely lame; then they'd essentially be sitting ducks.

Rogue's voice whispered from behind him suddenly, bringing the Cajun out of his reverie. "Ya know, it's a shame you didn't have a chance t' grab some of that bear meat." She was trying to keep her voice light, distracting herself from the pain in her feet. "After all, those robots were nice enough t' cook it for ya and everything."

Remy chuckled under his breath. "Cooked bear, eh?* Actually does sound pretty good. Damn shame indeed." He turned to look at her as he stamped down another large bush to give her room to walk. "You hungry? We should probably eat. Missed lunch after all." He tried to grin, but just the thought of eating more grubs made him want to vomit.

A snort escaped his lips as he watched Rogue's face pale and take on a greenish tint. Apparently she felt the same.

"Pass," was all she said, and she winced, biting her chapped lip as she stepped over the semi-squashed bush.

Remy said nothing, but his red eyes flashed with concern. He honestly didn't know how she was still going. Granted, she'd had a pseudo nap in the flower field as she'd waited for him to return after the robot mess, but she tired a little quicker, smiled and teased a little less, stumbled and scowled a little more.

They were both growing weary of the walking, and the bugs, and the forest. The only boon was that they generally worked well together. Their friendship and closeness was growing day by day, hour by hour, and regardless of the strain of the situation, he was grateful to have the time with her.

A low hanging branch was in their way, and Remy stooped, holding it up so she could walk under it a little easier. She flashed him a small, grateful smile as she passed by, but he caught the shiver that raced up her spine.

For a moment, he thought it was a response to HIM, to his closeness, but then she rubbed both her arms vigorously, and her whole body trembled.

"You okay, p'tite?" he asked, falling into step beside her as the forest thinned somewhat.

She nodded, a slight incline of the head. "Just gettin' a bit chilly," she commented. "Ain't close t' dark already, is it? Ah swear we ain't been walkin' THAT long."

Remy frowned and looked up at the sky, regaining his bearings. Dark clouds hung low and ominous, pressing down on them as they traversed the forest. It took a moment to pinpoint the sun's location and position, and he sighed.

"Non," frustration tightened his usually light patois, "I figure it's about 2:00ish by the where de sun's sittin. Dere's a storm rollin' in though. Looks like it's gonna be mauvais." (bad)

Rogue groaned loudly. "Great," she whined, "just what we need."

A smile played at his features as he took in her slumping, depressed attitude. "Least we'll have lots of fresh water t' drink," he joked, trying to make her smile.

She snorted, but the corner of her mouth did indeed turn up into a grin. "How do you do that?" she asked, amazed. Her feet were still moving, still taking one gingerly step at a time, but he could tell it was taking a great deal of concentration. And she was still shivering.

"Quoi?" (what) He put his arm around her back and tugged her closer, rubbing his hand up and down her arm to share some of his heat.

"Always find the bright side of things? Make everything that's bad feel good? Ah swear you could make someone laugh at a funeral." Rogue didn't meet his gaze, but she leaned into his side a little more. She told herself it was just because she was cold and his heat made her feel better, but she didn't account for how his closeness warmed her heart right along with her body.

Remy smiled brightly, squeezing her shoulder a bit before he continued caressing up and down her arm. She had tucked herself into his embrace, and it reminded him of a kitten snuggling up for warmth. This time, he didn't stop himself from kissing the top of her head.

"Well, it's like dis, chère," he explained, ignoring the way she stiffened slightly at the unexpected gesture. "**Dere's sadness in de world, sure. But I choose t' see de joy. The miracle is dat we live. The responsibility of livin,' is dat we try to make de world a little better**, n'est pas? And, well, you make mine a little better, too."

He felt her chest swell under his arm, heard the tiniest intake of breath at his easy admission, but she didn't pull away like he expected. Truth be told, Remy didn't know what had gotten into him. Ever since this morning, when he'd lay there in the shelter of some animal's discarded den, watching her sleep as he daydreamed of what a life with her could be, he'd been unable to distance himself from her. Mentally, physically, emotionally, he continued gravitating toward her, finding reasons to touch her, compliment her, tease her, and make her smile.

He knew now that kissing her 'for luck' had been a mistake; a mistake that he wanted to make over and over again. He could scarcely stop thinking about her lips on his, so soft and sweet and firm, which inevitably led him to wonder about what the rest of her felt like.

Shaking himself from his thoughts, Remy pulled her to a stop as she shuffled along beside him. They were going too slow, and now his raging hormones were making him anxious.

"Think it's time you ride piggy back again, p'tite," he encouraged her. "De weather's turnin' sour, and we need t' make better time; try an' find some shelter in case dis storm gets bad." As if to drive his point home, the trees suddenly whistled with a blast of cold wind, and a crack of thunder could be heard in the distance.

This time Rogue didn't argue, and simply let him hoist her up. He relished the way her body warmed his back; the way her arms held loose but stable along his shoulders; the way her legs wrapped around his waist as she locked her ankles, allowing him to move with a bit more speed.

This time, it seemed, she relished their closeness almost as much as he did.

~X~X~X~

Angry yellow eyes glared down at the grassy green field where dozens of chairs were arranged to face a small pulpit. Students wearing black dresses and dark suits were slowly gathering to take their seats at the first ever 'funeral' at Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters. One student, however, absolutely refused to attend the services. Instead, he was perched on the roof, crouched low behind a chimney stack as he watched the procession like a furry blue gargoyle.

This was wrong.

He knew it, felt it down in his very BONES, that they had given up too easily, dismissed his sister as dead too quickly. Although he couldn't explain it in logical, reasonable ways, he knew in his heart she was still alive.

And they had given up on her.

The thought had him growling, snarling, as he debated going down to the lawns to raise hell, to advocate once again for his missing sister and (hopefully) her companion, Gambit. His gut told him that if they could find the card wielding Acolyte, they would find Rogue - alive and well.

Perhaps not WELL, though, if the other feeling in his gut was right.

Kurt Wagner had spent nearly all his time fighting in the Danger Room, devising ways to save his sister, and praying. He had done little else in the four - or was it five? - days since she had been taken by Mesmero and Apocalypse. He had turned once more to God as his faith in Charles Xavier's perceived omniscience faltered and slowly faded to crumbling ash.

And everything - God, Kurt's gut, even his dreams - were telling him that Rogue was running out of time.

He wished once more that he had been blessed with telepathy like Xavier or Jean, so he could use Cerebro himself. He had exhausted every resource he could think of, though, with no results to speak of.

Caliban - the Morlock - had tried repeatedly, to find any trace of Rogue or Gambit, with nothing more to say than, "They cannot be located." It was as if the two mutants simply no longer existed, or someone was cloaking their presence. When Kurt had returned, time and time again asking the Morlock for help, the mutant 'tracker' had been unable to find any trace of his sister, the Acolyte, Mesmero, OR Apocalypse. Each attempt yielded the same results - hazy static in Caliban's brain that left the hairless, pale skinned mutant with agonizing headaches.

Kurt had visited Agatha Harkness, too. The witch had cast her spells, only to fill him with visions of cold, white static amid swirls of green that left his feet feeling bruised and blistered, and his ribs aching.

Even Charles Xavier - adamant though he was that Rogue was dead - still humored Nightcrawler at least twice a day by using Cerebro to search for both his sister and the Acolyte.

There were only two people left whom Kurt could think of that might carry the answers he sought, and one of them was currently residing in the basement of the mansion as a stone statue.

The other? Well, she seemed to be unreachable.

Irene Adler, Rogue had once told him, was a precog - someone who could see the future. After Rogue had absorbed Mystique the first time, she'd learned that Irene had known all along that her 'daughter' would develop a dangerous mutation in her skin.

So, when all other avenues failed, Kurt had sent Destiny a letter. He'd had to break into Xavier's office late at night just to find an address (the phone number had been disconnected). For a while, he had seriously considered hijacking the Blackbird just to fly down and confront her face to face, but there was no telling if she'd be there, and the blue furred mutant didn't even know what he would say to the woman.

After all, both of Rogue's adopted mothers had likely conspired together to ensure their 'daughter' was kept under Apocalypse's control. So, it stood to reason that Irene was just as responsible for what had happened to his sister as Mystique was. But, it also seemed that Irene was his last best hope for rescuing the missing X-Man and the Acolyte.

After all, if Kurt could get the precog to look into the future, she might be able to tell him - conclusively - if Rogue was indeed alive… or not.

And right now, as he plopped down on the roof and buried his face in his hands, he was starting to lose faith that she was.

~X~

Kitty looked around for the tenth time, hand across her brows as she squinted up at the roof. She was standing in front of the row of chairs closest to the pulpit, Lance seated next to her as she searched for any sign of Kurt.

"Kitty," her boyfriend coaxed again, cheeks growing warm as the crowd of people behind them watched. "Just sit down, yeah? He's not coming."

"He should BE here!" the tiny brunette practically wailed, her eyes already welling with tears.

Jean, Ororo, and Spyke sat next to Kitty, Lance, and the seat Kitty had saved for Kurt, while the Professor, Mr. McCoy, Jaime, Betsy, and Scott and an empty chair for Logan were positioned across the aisle. The Canadian, however, didn't plan to attend either. His hyperactive senses and keen emotions were pushed to the limit by the mass of bodies and the overwhelming smell of grief. The three telepaths were strategically sitting together for the very same reason. Individually, they struggled to keep the thoughts and emotions of the others at bay, but together they were able to erect stronger mental walls.

The rest of the rows of chairs were filled with the remaining students at Xavier's, as well as a handful of Morlocks who had come with Spyke to pay their respects to one of their own kind.

Jean approached Kitty and put a comforting arm on her shoulder. "Why don't you sit down? Henry is ready to start. I'll go find Kurt. I can't guarantee I can convince him to join us, but I can at least sit with him, make sure he isn't alone. I can still 'hear' the services, and maybe he'll want to at least listen in with me."

Biting her lip and glancing to where Scott was sitting between Betsy and Mr. McCoy, Kitty nodded. "O-okay. Thanks Jean." The brunette hugged the telepath, then hugged her a second time. "Give the extra one to Kurt for me, yeah?"

The redhead smiled, and with a brief telepathic announcement to the other adults, she headed away from the pulpit toward the house, her deep purple dress nipping at her heels just as the whispers of the other students nipped at the edges of her muddled mind.

~X~

"Open wide and say 'Ahh,'" Remy teased, tapping on Rogue's arm as it looped around his neck.

Her eyes were closed as she rode astride Remy's back, and truth be told, she had nearly fallen asleep more than once. He'd managed to keep her awake with questions about her top 3 picks for colleges - Sarah Lawrence, Yale, and Notre Dame - what subjects she might be interested in - art, psychology, or law - and a whole slew of other questions involving her future both as a mutant or a theoretical baseline human.

It had actually taken her quite a while to muddle out the answers, however, as her mind confused itself more than once with memories that were not her own. Even though her head was generally clear of all the psyches that had once swirled through her consciousness, snippets of thoughts and moments from the others confused her more often than not - especially as her fatigue grew.

"Haha. Not on your life, Swamp Rat," Rogue quipped right back as she adjusted her legs on Remy's hips. Her legs and feet were starting to tingle with that pins and needles feeling, and she knew they would both need a break soon.

She felt Gambit shrug his shoulders and pop something in his mouth - the second such motion in the last few minutes.

"Damn shame you don't trust dis one, chére. Y'r missin' out." His tone was ripe with his ever present smirk, and she was itching to wipe it off his face.

"Oh, Ah trust you, Remy, just not when it comes to things you think are edible." Her shoulders shook with barely contained laughter.

"De beetles weren't DAT bad," he argued, feigning indignation.

She snorted. "Pretty sure Ah still got LEGS stuck b'tween mah teeth," she joked. "Swear Ah can feel 'em crawlin' in mah stomach."

It was meant to be funny, but she actually made herself dry heave at the thought of what they'd eaten for 'breakfast' earlier.

Remy laughed aloud and paused, straightening slightly as he did any time his back was starting to bother him from carrying her for too long.

"Why don't you let me down for a bit?" she asked, voice even and almost serene. "Mah legs are startin' t' fall asleep. 'Sides, Ah should make sure ya ain't poisoning y'rself with something nasty again."

He nodded even as he bent close to the ground and gave a playfully snippy retort. "Rogue, 'm hurt dat you t'ink dis Cajun knows so little dat he can't survive on his own."

The X-Man chuckled at the feigned pout in his voice while she carefully put one foot down on the ground and winced hard. She was glad he couldn't see how much pain the small action caused her, or he likely wouldn't let her walk at all anymore.

"Survivin' in the city and pickpocketing tourists is one thing, Remy. The wilderness is a completely different type o' gator."

"Hey now, I'll have you know I even tested d'ese here berries t' make sure dey weren't bitter or nothin'. Taste just fine." He turned, smiling widely at Rogue's happy expression; she was obviously ecstatic to eat something beside bugs.

But, when he opened his hands, revealing a few dozen small, white berries, Rogue's smile morphed to a gasp as her face paled.

"Oh mah god, Remy!" she cried, picking up a single berry to examine it. "How many of these did you eat!?"

"Uh…" he stammered, trying to determine if she was attempting to trick him or not. "Not sure; pourquoi (why)?"

She paled even more, if possible. "White berries are almost ALWAYS poisonous! We gotta get 'em outta y'r stomach, NOW!"

Remy hesitated, eyes narrowed slightly in disbelief. "Okay, chère, joke's over, you got me."

"Remy!" Rogue slapped the rest of the berries from his hand. "Ah AIN'T jokin, sugah! Good lord, you could die!" She looked around the forest floor, frantic now. "We - we gotta find something t' help you throw up. Ab-absorb any poison."

This time Remy's face paled and he glided away from her to stand behind a clump of bushes. Within a few seconds, Rogue heard the distinct sound of gagging and retching, and she winced, rubbing her arms as she looked to the skies and prayed.

~X~

"Let us start with a prayer," Hank's deep voice boomed through the microphone and speakers that had been set up near the chairs. Two of the speakers had been discreetly positioned AWAY from the seated mutants, however. One faced the nearby forest where a grizzled man puffed a cigar, with the other facing the back of the house where another of their team was hiding out and refusing to acknowledge the services.

"Hey Kurt," a soft, feminine voice broke through both the pounding of blood in Nightcrawler's ears, and Hank's deep, warm voice as he led the rest of the mutants in prayer on the lawn.

Kurt's face was buried in his knees, tail wrapped tightly around his legs as he rocked himself on the roof, hidden by the chimney stacks. He wouldn't go down there. Refused. But, he also didn't really want to be alone right now, and at least he could comfort himself knowing his friends - his family - were nearby.

The blue furred teleporter stilled, quieting his desperate sobs as Jean sat down beside him, one leg splayed out and the other bent slightly. She took care to drape her long, wine-purple dress over her legs.

"This seat taken?" she asked, trying to keep the mood light despite the gravity of what was happening on the lawn below them.

"Vhy are you not down where with zhe others?" Kurt mumbled, peeking one bloodshot yellow eye up at the redhead. "I know you vould rather be with Scott."

She shrugged. "I -" she paused, sighing. "It's complicated, I guess. But Kitty wouldn't settle down until she knew you were okay, and I didn't want her to miss the services. She prepared a speech and everything."

"Seems like everyone has something nice to say about Rogue now zhat zhey think she is dead," his tone was bitter, snarling around his white fangs.

Jean snorted - actually snorted - as she tried to stifle a laugh. "Yeah, people are fickle like that."

"More like FAKE," another snarl as Kurt finally raised his head to glare at Jean.

The telepath's cheeks colored slightly and she bit her lip. "I - I know how you feel, Kurt, really, but…"

"But vhat?!" he cut her off, misery morphing to rage as his grief found a new, easier target. "Let me guess - 'but you lost a friend too? But, everyone else is grieving? But, I need to let it go'?"

"But you aren't alone," Jean offered finally, her voice whisper-quiet as she met his eyes.

"Yes, I am! Don't you see zhat!? No one believes Rogue is alive. I am zhe ONLY one who is trying to find her! Zhey have zhis funeral - pretty words and thoughts now zhat zhey think it is too late. But where where zhey when she vas here? Most of zhem never spoke more zhan two words to her in a week, yet now zhey make speeches and pretend zhey are sad?"

"Kurt," Jean put a hand on his arm. "They ARE sad. Whether they really knew Rogue or not - whether they were really her friends or not, they believe a life was lost, and they've come to pay their respects. They're sad because it's a sad situation. Everyone down there may not be grieving because they knew Rogue, but they see the pain her loss has caused, and maybe some of them are grieving because they never knew what they were missing. Maybe they're just sad because others are sad, but they're here NOW, and that has to count for something."

At the pulpit, Hank finished his opening prayer and invited little Jamie up to say a few words.

Kurt snorted derisively. "You see vhat I mean?!" he cried, flourishing one hand in the boy's direction.

But Jean squeezed his arm and nodded in the young man's direction. "Just listen for a minute, Kurt."

"H-Hi," the youngest student began, his small voice carried up to the rooftops by the speakers. "I-I'm Jamie, for anyone who doesn't know me, and well… I didn't really know Rogue that well, to be honest." He paused, faltering a moment, but looked over to Ms. Braddock, who nodded. "But she was nice to me; she encouraged me not to give up when I thought I couldn't do something like play football, or when I thought my powers were useless and stupid. Even though we didn't talk much, and I didn't know her favorite books or flowers or anything, I always looked up to her."

Kurt swallowed the sudden lump in his throat as Jaime's words cut through him.

"I always thought Rogue was tough, too - like, almost as tough as Wolverine." At this, a few people chuckled even as they wiped their eyes, and a bark of laughter could even be heard echoing through the forest in the distance. "And even though she - she's gone, I'll still always look up to her and remember that I can be tough, too. And that even when I think my powers aren't as cool as someone else's, I can still do cool things."

The young boy leaned down and something at his feet rattled. When he stood again, he held a small white dove in his hand. Then he pulled a piece of paper from his pocket and closed his eyes, scrunching his face in deep concentration. As Kurt - and the rest of the crowd below watched, one boy became twenty.

On the stage, the original Jamie spoke while his multiples quickly surrounded the crowd, still holding both the bird and the paper. "I found this poem by a guy named Henry Longfellow, and I thought it was kind of nice.

In unison, Jamie Maddrox and his multiples read from the small script.

"Lives of great men all remind us
We can make our lives sublime,
And, departing, leave behind us
Footprints on the sands of time;

Footprints, that perhaps another,
Sailing o'er life's solemn main,
A forlorn and shipwrecked brother,
Seeing, shall take heart again."

And with that, all twenty or so of the multiples released their doves at once, creating a flock of angelic white wings that soared overhead together before they disappeared, one by one until a single solitary bird flew into the distance and the last Jamie had resumed his seat next to Betsy.

Tears in his eyes, Kurt accepted the tissues Jean pulled from her purse.

"I vish Rogue were here to see this."

~X~

"Wish you didn't have t' see dat, p'tite," Remy grimaced as he sheepishly returned to her side.

She gave him a wry, yet sympathetic smile. "Hey, the way Ah see it, we're even now. And Ah didn't even have t' hold y'r hair back, sugah." She winked at him flirtatiously and he chuckled at her uncharacteristic phrasing. Sure, she'd called him 'sugar' a few times, but it was usually in response to one of his own flirtatious pet names, and never with such a casual, easy air.

"You t'ink DAT makes us even, ma chere? De way Gambit sees it, you still deep in de red, MIGNON." He fired back at her with a cheeky smile and a moniker of his own, even while he extended his hand out for her to take.

Without hesitating, she placed her pale, thin, and slightly chilled fingers over his, falling in step beside him as they walked. "How do you figure, Swamp Rat?"

"Well," he pretended to ruminate on the subject as he watched her. Her steps were a little more sure and less pained than a few hours ago, and her other arm was wrapped around her middle. "By my count, 'til you drag Remy piggyback through de forest, and see him naked a few times, I still got you beat."

A strangled cry of indignation erupted from Rogue's throat as she turned and slapped his shoulder with her free hand, her face blazing with heat despite the chill in the air. Regardless of her embarrassment, however, she wasn't nearly as mortified - or furious - about his reminder of their first day shenanigans.

"In that case, don't hold y'r breath on EVER cashin' in, Cajun."

Remy grinned, that incorrigible smile of his amusing and infuriating her simultaneously. "Non? Admit it chére, you been dyin t' see dis one in de buff since day one."

"Ah sincerely doubt it," Rogue scoffed, but her cheeks turned crimson, and she ducked her head even as she pulled her hand away and crossed her arms.

In response Gambit chuckled, then coughed a little to cover a sudden bout of nausea. His stomach was churning despite forcing himself to expel those damn white berries. He hoped it was just a psychosomatic response to the possibility that they could be toxic, and he kept pace with Rogue, still smiling.

He figured there was no reason to make her worry needlessly.

~X~

Throughout the rest of the services, Hank quoted Psalm 34:17-18 "When the righteous cry for help, the Lord hears and delivers them out of all their troubles. The Lord is near to the brokenhearted and saves the crushed in spirit." *** His speech highlighted the juxtaposition of why bad things happen to good people, and how he believed sometimes death could be seen as a mercy, or delivery from evil. He, like many others, quietly clutched to the theory that Rogue's death had been at her own hand - prefering to die rather than let Apocalypse use her for such nefarious purposes.

Kitty's speech gave little insights into what kind of person Rogue really was - kind, caring, and compassionate. A person who could look into the eyes of almost anyone and find their redeemable qualities. Someone that could be trusted with your worst secrets, because she probably lived them with you.

Bobby told stories that had everyone erupting in soggy giggles - stories of how she had trapped him on the lawn without any clothes, how he had ended up with two black eyes and a broken nose because he'd jump scared her from the inside of her closet, how she had kept quiet about a number of his prank war shenanigans and had even given him tips for tailor-made pranks.

Although she never divulged personal details about anyone, she did have special insights into what kinds of pranks would be better received and still have a significant impact. She had apparently even acted as a soundboard for him on more than one occasion and talked him down from some truly outrageous ideas. She'd even warned him away from anything she thought would trigger someone's phobias or anxiety.

The Brotherhood hadn't spoken, but they'd gathered together (minus Wanda) to unveil the memorial they'd created. Toad, of course, had directed some of the applause in Wanda's direction, and had publicly thanked Xavier for granting them the opportunity to do something special for their former teammate and friend.

Rahne Sinclair, quiet though she usually was, sang a Scottish Gaelic ballad called Griogal Cridhe. It was beautiful, with a melody that was soft and sweet with a hint of deep, guttural mourning. Although no one understood the lyrics, they felt the heaviness of the emotion from Rahne's gorgeous, alto voice.

Finally, Scott came up to the pulpit, dressed in a black suit with a deep green tie - a present from Rogue last Christmas. He cleared his throat as he adjusted the microphone and looked around. He frowned for a moment when he couldn't see Jean, however. His nerves were clearly starting to get the best of him, and he shifted his weight uncomfortably and swallowed hard.

Even from the top of the roof as she sat next to Kurt, Jean was intimately attuned to Cyclop's emotional duress. She still hadn't quite gotten over the secret confession of his love for Rogue, but the depth of his current agony was too much for her to ignore, and she reached out to him with her empathy.

He looked in her direction, and although they couldn't see each other physically, their eyes - and hearts - met all the same. Suddenly, the last few days of uncertainty and heartache were felt, shared, and resolved all in the space of time it took for Scott to close his eyes, take a deep breath, and open them again.

With a reassured smile, the team leader looked out across the many faces in the crowd - both familiar and foreign - and spoke with the air of the young man who was destined to lead the X-Men.

"Hi everyone. I, um, I actually didn't know if I was going to be able to do this today." With a sheepish smile, he ran a hand through his slicked back hair. "I think it's pretty obvious that I've been a bit… out of sorts lately."

There were a few chuckles and murmurs that rose up from the crowd, and he smiled right along with them. "I know, it sounds like a bit of an understatement, right? But uh, as ironic as it sounds, I'm actually not that good about dealing with death and loss." He ran his hand through his hair a second time and took a deep breath.

"Ever since I was little, I've always been really careful with the attachments I make, the people I love, because I never wanted to lose anyone else. I wanted to be a leader because I want to keep my family safe. And, well, this has been a hard one for me, because I do love Rogue."

A few quiet murmurs rose from pockets in the crowd, and Scott felt a sharp pang from his connection with Jean as well. Still, he pushed forward, ignoring the whispers.

"I loved her passion. I loved her wit and sass. I loved her dedication and loyalty. I loved her compassion for others, and her ability to see past everyone's flaws. I loved her strength." He sighed, taking a deep breath as he felt his eyes sting. "We always say we're all family, and just like a real family, we have certain connections that are stronger than others, and some we WISH were stronger."

Scott looked across the crowd and saw a few of the students like Amara and Tabitha, Sam and Ray, Jaime and Rahne, clasp hands or pat each other on the back. Others, like Bobby and Jubilee, and Roberto and Amara, simply gave each other shy smiles. Most of the Brotherhood teens looked around, meeting a few nods and smiles from the X-Men with their own cautious expressions.

"And while Rogue didn't have as many connections, I know she valued all of them - even if it didn't always seem like it. Like most of you, I admired Rogue: her strength, her tenacity, and her desire to be in control of her own destiny. I think - of all of us - she was the most determined to be the master of her fate."

Several students nodded, and Ororo reached across to hold Evan's hand as her eyes started to well up and a few clouds rolled in. Mr. McCoy discreetly wiped away a few tears as well, and checked on the rain slickers that were under every chair.

Scott, however, continued, undeterred. "I know we've all been speculating and worrying - that the unknowns have got us all twisted up - but I heard this poem once and I realized that it perfectly embodies Rogue and how she lived her life. And that she would have faced any challenge with the same attitude. It's called, 'Invictus,' by William Ernest Henly."

His voice was steady, full of conviction and strength, as he read from the page in his hand, and he looked up a few times to meet the eyes of his mentors and friends.

Out of the night that covers me,

Black as the pit from pole to pole,

I thank whatever gods may be

For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance

I have not winced nor cried aloud.

Under the bludgeonings of chance

My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears

Looms but the Horror of the shade,

And yet the menace of the years

Finds and shall find me unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gate,

How charged with punishments the scroll,

I am the master of my fate,

I am the captain of my soul.

He stepped away from the podium as he finished and nodded to the Professor, who came forward to position himself next to the makeshift pulpit rather than behind it.

"I don't think there's much left to say that hasn't already been said, except … I am sorry," Professor Xavier's voice was quiet, but every person present heard him clearly nonetheless.

"I brought my X-Men together to fulfill a dream - one born out of hope and the noblest of human aspirations. And you have sweated and bled. And now we mourn. There is no way to express my sorrow - my shame - for failing Rogue, and all of you who loved her. And, I don't say this to ask for your sympathy, or your forgiveness. But I do ask you - all of you - to reflect. I want each of you to decide if being here, being an X-Man, is the right choice for you. We probably could conquer the world - though at what cost? It is times like this that I cannot help to wonder - is the dream worth the sacrifice? Are the means as important as the end? As much as I wish to promise everyone that I will never let this happen again, I simply cannot lie to you."

The somber, melancholy air of the mutant audience stiffened, anxiousness and doubt mixing with grief in a proverbial cloud that felt every bit as threatening as the real ones lurking above their heads.

"Rogue did not get a choice - her life was taken before any of us could even fathom what Apocalypse wanted. But YOU are still here, and YOU will have to choose. I love my X-Men, my students - all of you, but I cannot ask you to blindly follow, knowing that any one of you may share Rogue's fate. I taught you - I still have much I can teach you - my dream has given many of you a reason for being, but I must ask you to consider if that is enough."

Xavier was quiet for a moment, letting the gravity of his words sink in as many of the students and members of the audience shifted uncomfortably. A few students like Jaime, Ray, and even the Brotherhood looked around nervously, while others sat a little straighter or folded their arms resolutely. Some, like Kitty, simply stared at their hands with sadness and acceptance.

Swallowing the lump in his throat over the melange of emotions he felt bubbling up from his students, Xavier smiled lightly and nodded. "I thank you all - for your dedication, your courage, and your friendship. Knowing how hard you all fought to bring Rogue home, to save her, speaks volumes of how much you cared. Mitch Albom said, 'Death ends a life, not a relationship. All the love you created is still there. All the memories are still there. You live on — in the hearts of everyone you have touched and nurtured while you were here.' I know that was true of Rogue by the many thoughts and memories you've all shared here today. So thank you, all of you, for your love and friendship. There is no doubt in my mind that she loved all of you, too." ****

Folding his hands quietly, Xavier returned to his position amongst his students, only nodding when Mr. McCoy gave his shoulder a squeeze.

Jean and Kurt watched from the roof as Xavier ended, and Amara, Rahne, Jubilee, Sam, and Bobby approached to sing "Amazing Grace." Kurt's eyes were heavy with tears, and the fur around his face glistened in the waning light. The teleporter turned to the telepath. In his eyes was a torrent of emotion: gratitude, disbelief, agony, appreciation

"Did," he spoke quietly, his voice thick with tears and a lump in his throat that he couldn't seem to dispel. "Did they mean it? Do they all truly feel that way about Rogue? Or was that all just …?"

Jean shook her head, red waves bouncing slightly as she gave him a small, reassuring smile. "It wasn't lip service, Kurt. They truly do feel that way," She nibbled her lower lip as the group of singers began on the second verse and those in the chairs were encouraged to place a yellow rose at the base of the Brotherhood's memorial. "May I show you something?" she asked while they watched crying students carefully place their flowers.

Kurt nodded, and the redhead put her hands along either side of Kurt's temples. Jean opened up her empathy to him, and all those she had been trying to wall off over the last few days. He gasped as a torrent of grief, regret, admiration, determination, and sorrow pulsed through his mind and heart, a kaleidoscope of emotion flooding into him from the crowd below, and from the redhead sitting across from him.

Just as quickly as she'd opened the connection, Jean closed it again, not wanting to overwhelm either of them. Her chin quivered, tears pricking at her own eyes as waves of sadness washed over her heart. Green eyes stared at Kurt, who still had his eyes closed. When he opened them, soft yellow eyes met her gaze imploringly.

"I -" he cleared his throat. "I didn't know they all cared so much. And some of them - they don't think she's dead, either …?" He trailed off, disbelief and validation making it hard to breathe.

Jean shook her head and smiled wryly. "No," she agreed quietly, a whisper of a secret passing her lips. "Some of us really don't."

"You…?" Kurt gasped, brows furrowed. His fur bristled, outrage replacing camaraderie. "But why did you not SAY something earlier!? We might have…"

"I know, and I'm sorry, Kurt. Truly I am. I don't have anything to say except that I thought I was wrong. That whatever I was feeling was just residue from your convictions and my own dissociation. But, sitting up here with you, I feel it so strongly now. Whether it's because we're physically close and it really is coming from you, or because I'm finally letting myself process everything, I don't know. But I… I think she's alive, too."

The dam broke at long last, and Kurt's face screwed up, his white fangs glinting not in malice, but in relief and melancholy, as tears of heartache and vindication spilled down his furry cheeks. Jean's eyes were wet as well, and the two hugged each other close, feeling that somehow, someway, they would be alright.

~X~X~X~

"Remy, are ya SURE you're alright?" Rogue's brows were furrowed as she watched Gambit roll his shoulders and grimace, his hand moving reflexively to cover his stomach.

"Just fine, chère," he smiled, but his lips were tight and pinched, and she could practically smell his lie…

Or maybe that was just him…

She cleared her throat and repositioned herself on his other side, trying to stay upwind as his digestive issues made itself known. She didn't mention it though, not wanting to make the situation any more awkward.

"You got a funny way of showin' it, sugah," she teased lightly. She frowned, however, as he grimaced and held his stomach tighter.

"Just need a distraction 's all," he commented wryly. "Mebbe dem berries weren't so good after all." He smiled at Rogue's raised eyebrow, a clear look of 'ya think?' written across her features. "Glad you had de good sense not t' trust dis one after all."

Rogue snorted, shaking her head as he once again managed to make her laugh during a time of stress. "Ah trust ya fine, Cajun, but AH'M pickin' the restaurants from here on out." She winked at him, a playful, tilted smile growing on her face.

"Already plannin' t' take me out t' dinner, eh chère?" Remy countered, his own teasing grin playing at his lips and brightening his uncharacteristically pale face. "Where to?"

She quirked an incredulous eyebrow at him, barely managing not to roll her eyes at his suggestiveness. "Right now? How 'bout Repas de la Forêt?" (Meal of the Forest)

Her french accent and wording were so impeccable that Remy actually started, his foot catching on a protruding root, and he stumbled. Thankfully, with as close as Rogue was standing to him, she managed to steady him with one arm darting out to wrap around his chest. He recovered instantly, however, and grabbed her small pale hand with his own. His other snaked out to hold her hip, and he yanked her flush against him with a smile, effectively replacing her look of concern with surprise.

"Dancin' too, petite?" he asked, trying to redirect his misstep. "Dat must be a fancy place, indeed." Despite the roiling of his stomach, he relished the small gasp and flush his unexpected move elicited from her.

Instead of hitting him, or yelling, she rolled her eyes, shaking her head. "Why don't you save it for an actual date, Casanova?" she quipped, pulling away slowly. She hated to admit it, but the way Remy's body felt against hers was divine. He was all warmth, and muscle, and safety, and she had to keep herself from wrapping up in his arms and burying her cold nose in the hollow of his throat.

"Thinkin' about dates, too, huh?" his smile was wide and genuine, and he brought her hand to his lips, kissing the back of it while his eyes danced. "Dis Cajun's got you all tangled up in his web, I see."

"You're incorrigible, you know that?" she pulled her hand back and turned away to continue walking.

Her feet hurt a little less than earlier, thank goodness. Remy had insisted that she put more dandelion milk on her wounds, and although it had stung at the time, the combination of him carrying her and the pseudo 'antiseptic' was helping a little. "Don't you ever get tired of listenin' to yourself?"

"Not when I'm talkin' 'bout you, chère," * he returned easily, that flirtatious grin still on his lips.

"Oh!" Rogue slapped her forehead, then dragged her hand down her face as if he'd just recited a terrible 'dad joke.' In reality, however, she was simply trying to keep her cheeks - and her smile - from giving away her embarrassed, yet pleased, reaction.

"Speaking of," he continued, undeterred. "Why don't you tell me more 'bout where you grew up? De most I got outta you was de small town of Caldecott, Mississippi."

"Oh no, Cajun," the southern girl gave him an unamused look once her cheeks had stopped flaming. "Ah've talked about mahself all day. Hell, you even know Ah got a 'B minus' in Calculus. It's YOUR turn now." **

"Alright, alright," he chuckled at her vehement reaction and the sassy way she put her hands on her hips as they walked side by side. "What ya wanna know?"

She chewed the corner of her chapped lower lip as she considered. "Hmm… Where's someplace you'd really like t' go?"

"Ya mean besides HOME," he deadpanned, smiling broadly when she snorted and giggled.

"Well, YEAH," she replied, shaking her head but still grinning. "Like Paris or Spain? Disneyland? Hell, Antarctica even … ANYWHERE but here." she joked.

"Not Paris." His reply was so instantaneous that he didn't even have time to carefully gauge his response, and he had to fight to keep his face neutral.

"Why not?" she asked, her head tilting in curiosity. His eyes flicked to watch her. She really was adorable when she was trying to wheedle him for answers. Even if the questions themselves made him physically ill.

Literally, in this case.

"Already been t' Paris. Not worth de hype, really, except the museums." He gave her an easy answer, expertly deflecting and redirecting as his stomach rolled.

"Really? What were you doin' in Paris? Stealin' the 'Mona Lisa'?" her tone was light and sarcastic, and she playfully bumped his hip with her own.

But her smile faded when he said nothing and gave her the biggest, most devious grin in response.

"Oh mah lord, y'all didn't REALLY steal the MONA LISA, did you!?" Green eyes were wide, mouth agape with shock and a tiny bit of outrage.

He couldn't help laughing out loud at her incredulous reaction. "Nah," he admitted, chuckling again when she sighed in relief. "It was a Cézanne."

Her tiny squeak made him bark with amusement, and he simultaneously had to cough to keep his stomach in check. He wasn't about to tell her that the Louvre job had been a secondary, unplanned heist after he'd botched his primary objective, which had ultimately resulted in a young woman's death.

"How did you even…?" she started, shaking her head and drawing him from his morose thoughts. "Ah mean, The Louvre is one of the most secure museums in the WORLD! How'd ya manage t' steal a whole painting outta there?!" Her tone was rising, be it from disbelief, awe, or anger, neither of them really knew.

Remy simply smirked in response. "Dey don't call me de 'Prince of Thieves' f'r nothin', chère."

Silently, she watched him from the corner of her eye as they walked together, trying to decide if he was being honest or not. "So that'd make your daddy - Jean Luc, wasn't it - the KING of thieves then?"

When Remy said nothing, staring at the path ahead with a grim expression, Rogue's brow quirked upward. "Huh," was all she said, however, as she continued along beside him.

Her lack of response worried him. He'd essentially told her that he truly wasn't a 'good guy,' and that he came from a family of thieves. Whether she believed his father was the King or not was beside the point. It was the most substantial personal information he had divulged thus far on their journey, and he was almost nervous about how she was going to take it. Would she hate him? Would she denounce his devious ways with anger and disgust? Would she try to turn him into her team once they returned to civilization? All the unknowns had his stomach twisting up, making him literally sweat, and feeling a little light-headed.

After a few minutes of silence (aside from Remy's rumbling stomach and warring thoughts), Rogue cleared her throat and forced her voice a few notches higher. "So uh, what ELSE do ya steal?" She paused, giving him a cheeky smile. "Aside from damsels in distress, and kisses."

This time Remy snorted in amusement and chuckled, the breath he didn't realize he'd been holding leaving him in a whoosh of relief. If she was joking with him, it likely meant she wasn't mad about what and where he came from. "Just about anything dat pays well; mostly jewelry and art; sometimes technology or business files."

"So you're a thief AND a hacker," she teased, partially joking.

"Not really. Gambit knows his way around a computer, sure, but dis one mostly specializes in high end security, big ol' vaults, and even bigger payouts. De tougher and more valuable de job, de better."

"So where does stealin' an unconscious X-Man from Apocalypse fall?" She was still smiling with that teasing, playful sass, and despite how terribly his stomach was feeling from the berries, he could still differentiate between the sickness and the butterflies she was invoking.

"Most valuable thing I ever stole, f'r true." He lifted her hand once more as they walked and kissed the back of her bare knuckles, relishing the way her cheeks flared with color. He dropped it before she could pull away, and turned his attention to stamping down a few bushes for her to walk through.

"Gettin' in dere was easy. Just had t' hitch a ride. Surprisingly low security, too. De guards were easy 'nough t' get around. Dey big, but dey ain't high tech, Dieu merci, (thank god)." He grimaced a little, rubbing the back of his stiff, aching neck. "De exit strategy wasn't one o' my best, though."

Rogue suppressed a laugh, her shoulders shaking as she tucked a lock of white bangs behind her ear. "No kidding," she quipped. "Bet most of your getaways don't involve almost drownin'."

"You'd be surprised." His eyes didn't stray from the path, even as his lips turned up at the edges.

His response was so easy, so automatic, that she did a double take and raised an eyebrow. He was so hard to read sometimes that she never knew when he was joking or when he was telling the truth. "So how many jobs end up with you rescuin' a girl," she asked, her tone light.

Why then, she wondered, did her stomach clench in nervous anticipation of his answer?

He looked up, as if mentally recounting his former conquests, and his expression took on an air of surprise. "Actually…?" he grinned, seemingly pleased with himself.

"Nevermind!" She held up both hands in mock surrender as her heart dropped. "Ah don't wanna know. Forget Ah asked."

"What's wrong, Rogue?" He held up a branch from an overhanging birch to let her walk under his arm. "Jealous?" That dang cocky smirk of his was back on his face, just daring her to deny it.

"Hardly," she scoffed, rolling her eyes and folding her arms. "Ah just don't need t' know about your… conquests." She spat the last word, as if it left a sour taste in her mouth, and scowled.

"If it makes ya feel any better," he sidled up to her, close enough to whisper in her ear. "You're de only one of 'em I ever SLEPT with."

He could feel the tension coil in her body, either his words or the husky tone making her shiver slightly. For the briefest moment he truly considered leaning in further to flick his tongue along the shell of her ear, just to see how much he could really make her tremble.

As if sensing his thoughts, she danced away from him, hands back on her hips as she whirled angrily.

"That ain't funny, Swamp Rat," she railed. "You just can't help crossin' that line between harmless and inappropriate flirtin', can you?"

"Aw, chère, ya wound me! Don'cha know ALL flirtin' is inappropriate if y'r doin' it right?" He winked devilishly, pleased as punch with the way her cheeks reddened even as she held his gaze resolutely.

"Aint no reason it has t' be," she challenged, hands on her hip, watching him. She let her eyes wander over his face, noting the pallor of his cheeks and the glistening of sweat on his brow. As much as she was enjoying their banter, the nagging concern about his physical condition was ever present in her mind.

"Oh yeah?" he asked, intrigued. "You some kinda expert now, chère? Spend three days with dis one and you suddenly know how t' flirt?" His eyebrow was raised in doubt and amusement as he took in her defiant posture and narrowed eyes. But, when her look of indignation was replaced by a devious, playful smirk, his levity faltered.

"Cajun, Ah may not be an expert, but Ah certainly know how t' hold mah own, thank you very much." Her own brow was now raised in an air of defiance and self satisfaction, and for a moment, Remy hesitated.

"No offense, petite, but you can't even HEAR a suggestive comment without blushin' as red as a rose. What makes you think you can flirt wit' de likes a me?"

She barked derisively. "Look who thinks the sun comes up just to hear him crow? Ah bet you couldn't flirt WITHOUT it bein' sexual!"

"Yeah?" he challenged, purposefully stepping into her personal space just to watch her squirm. He could tell she wanted to move away, but she squared her shoulders and set her jaw stubbornly, raising her chin to meet his eyes.

"I'd take dat wager, mignon. What you wanna bet, eh?" His gaze raked appreciatively across her slightly trembling form. "How 'bout de winner get a KISS from de loser?" ***

Rogue balked for a moment, her face washing out with reflexive fear. She couldn't help the way her whole body froze with panic at the thought of kissing anyone, but the idea of kissing REMY…? That was like jumping from the mountain into the river all over again, but knowing you'd land on a warm, soft bed of rose petals, spices, and desire instead of icy water.

Clearing her throat as her face abruptly flushed with color, the Southerner bit her tongue and huffed through her nose. Then, without warning, she tilted her head a little more and stepped CLOSER to Gambit, so much so that her chest was almost brushing his.

"As much pleasure as Ah know YOU'd get from that, Swamp Rat, Ah ain't sure that's a very fair trade… for ME." Her deep, sultry tone, the way she cocked her hips, and the seductive wink she gave him left the Cajun temporarily speechless. Rogue nearly laughed at the way he visibly swallowed, his eyes practically glazing over.

Gambit whistled aloud and awarded her with an appreciative grin even as his stomach flipped. So she knew how to play after all, hmm?

Then let the games begin.

"What do you propose, ma chere?" he asked, resisting the urge to brush his thumb across her slightly protruding lower lip. Good God she was sexy as hell. This might actually be a challenge…

Rogue thought for a moment, her eyes flicking toward the soft, web-like foliage of the western hemlock trees, and the tall, stiff aspens bowing and dancing in the wind.

"How 'bout dinner?" Her heart was suddenly hammering in her throat, but she tried to keep her gaze even as she held his. "Loser has t' either buy dinner, or cook it for the winner, once we get back home." Although she was practically trembling from her own audacity, Rogue was determined to keep as straight of a poker face as possible. She was essentially suggesting they go on a real date. Not a flirtatious, off-handed possibility, but a guaranteed invitation to spend time with each other when life was normal again.

When Remy blinked in quick succession, his brows furrowing for the briefest second, she could have sworn there were rocks in her stomach instead of the grubs they'd eaten a few hours ago. But then he smiled, a huge grin splitting his face and brightening his otherwise pale cheeks.

"Parfait, (perfect)," he announced, lifting her hand to kiss it for the third time.

This time Rogue flushed for an altogether DIFFERENT reason, and she had to drop her eyes and bite the inside of her lip to keep from smiling like an idiot. A date. An honest to god, REAL date with this gorgeous - uh, IRRITATING - intriguing, and charismatic man. Her insides were doing funny things, and she was suddenly very warm in his coat despite the rapidly dropping temperature.

"What are your terms, mignon?" he asked, pulling her from her thoughts as he kept her knuckles dangerously close to his lips, his thumb continuing to smooth over the back of her hand. His eyes met hers in a deviously seductive smirk, and she swallowed hard, pulling her arm back.

"Well, if you CAN'T make suggestive comments, and Ah CAN, then you shouldn't be allowed to just touch me unless Ah initiate first, right?" Her pulse was so wild within her throat, fluttering at the speed of a hummingbird's wings, that she could swear he'd see it.

"So you can touch ME, but Gambit can't touch YOU?" he asked, one eyebrow raised incredulously. "Hardly seems fair."

"What's wrong, Cajun?" Folding her arms, she tilted her head to the side, tossing her hair so her lithe neck was bared to him. "Afraid you can't keep your hands off me?" Again, that seductive tone crept into her voice, her eyes daring him to challenge her, and for a moment she didn't even recognize herself.

"Damn, chère," Remy chuckled low, one arm folded over his chest while the other hand thoughtfully toyed with his goatee. "Seems you CAN hold y'r own, hein? Alright, petite, you wanna play wit' Gambit? Den let's play. I accept your terms." He held out his hand to her and she raised her chin as she confidently took it, both of them grinning stupidly now.

"Deal."

After they shook on it, they stood, still and silent, as they simply stared into each other's eyes in an attempt to read their 'rival's' face.

After a few seconds, Rogue cleared her throat and dropped his hand, shivering again despite the sudden warmth in her cheeks.

"We should probably keep movin' at least," she suggested finally, unable to resist the urge to look around a little.

"Oui," Remy agreed. Despite the heat in his belly (and lower extremities), the urge to vomit was almost overwhelming now. "Just… gimme a minute, s'il vous plait?" (please) Without warning, he turned on his heel and took quick, long strides away from her, leaving Rogue to stare after him in confusion. But when she heard him violently retching from a few yards away, her face scrunched up in concern, sympathy, and a touch of disgust.

They were NOT off to a good start.

~X~X~

Thirty minutes later, their 'game' was all but forgotten as Remy's condition worsened. It was as if The Powers That Be suddenly switched a flip and turned everything on its head. They no longer needed their wager - Remy was unable to do much of anything besides vomit, stop for frequent bathroom breaks, and shuffle along silently. Despite the chill in the air, he'd even taken off his pants so he'd be less encumbered during those immediate, unexpected calls from his bowels.

With his ill-health, Rogue took up Remy's usual mantle, trying to fill the tension and silence with witty humor and memories of her favorite times with her friends. Occasionally, she had to physically support him as he stumbled, and she started looking around in desperation, trying to find some kind of shelter.

Finally, as they made their way down a rocky hillside, Gambit slipped on some shale and slid a little, his now bare legs getting sliced by the sharp stones. When he stopped sliding and tried unsuccessfully to stand, Rogue was already at his side, wrapping his arm over her shoulders to help him.

"Whoa, Remy!" she cried, concern wrapping over her face like a mask. "Alright, sugah, you need t' sit down. Enough's enough."

"No, we need t' keep movin' Rogue. Gotta get t' water an' find some shelter. Get you somewhere safe." He tried to stand and remove his arm from her shoulders, but he wobbled so much that Rogue had to wrap both arms around his waist to keep him from falling over.

Dragging him to a soft spot of dirt beside a large boulder, Rogue helped lower him to the ground and put a hand on his forehead. "Gambit, you're burning up. Please, stay here and rest. Let me scout around for a bit, okay?"

Feverish and pale though he was, Gambit's weary red on black eyes met hers and he shook his head. "Non, cherie, can't let you go off on y'r own. Ain't safe."

One of his bare, slightly bleeding legs was bent, booted foot resting flat on the ground while the other was folded and tucked below the raised knee, but he still tried to push himself off the ground. This time Rogue kneeled in front of him, putting both hands on his still covered shoulders and pressing him back down.

"Remy LeBeau. You are SICK, and you need t' rest. While Ah appreciate your concern, Ah'm not some damsel in distress, okay? Ah don't need you t' protect me at every turn, even if you are a certifiable expert." She smiled flirtatiously, glad he was grinning just a little.

"Where'd you learn t' flirt like dat, eh, Rogue?" he managed to ask, hand reaching for hers, yet not grabbing it.

She understood what he was doing and put her hand in his and held it to his chest

Slowly, she raked her index finger up his jaw to his chin, leaning in just enough so that he reflexively did the same. "Let's just say Ah'm FULL of surprises," she winked, her voice low and husky in his ear before she turned serious.

"Now, Ah'm gonna go find us some shelter t' get outta this wind and cold, but Ah need you t' stay right HERE, okay, sugah?" Her green eyes were earnest and full of nervous worry.

With a deep breath, Remy finally nodded as he met her gaze and released her hand, suddenly exhausted. If the sclera of his eyes hadn't been black, she could swear they would be bloodshot.

Regardless of how terrible he looked, Rogue smiled reassuringly at him and stood. She even tousled his hair lightly, brushing his disheveled brown locks away from his glistening forehead.

She couldn't help it. The vulnerable, pained look in his eyes, and the trusting way he smiled apologetically at her…

Bending slightly, she kissed him on the forehead.

"Sit tight, Cajun," she whispered, letting her hand smooth down from his hair to his cheek. "Ah'll be back real soon." Rogue had to turn away abruptly as her own cheeks flamed. She'd wanted to kiss him on the lips - almost had, in fact, but stopped herself just in time.

Careful not to look back, or let him see any pain it caused her, she began walking west. Rogue took stock of the position of the sun's shadow behind the dark clouds, the mountains around them, and the thick trees. She pulled Remy's pocket knife from his coat and turned once to wave at him as she marked a pine with an X and made her way into the dense forest.

~X~

The X-Man was just about to give up and turn around 20 minutes later when she found what she was looking for. A small, rocky hillside dotted with large trees and bushes created an overhang as it climbed up into a wide valley above. She didn't bother exploring the hill to check what was on top, however, as she was only interested in the shelter it provided.

There was a shallow cave inside as well, with an opening wide enough for them to lay down comfortably and stay out of whatever rain might force its way in. It was only four feet tall where it narrowed into a little alcove, even though the overhang itself grew and stretched upward nearly 20 feet.

A few trees had fallen nearby as well, their branches and trunks dried and rotting as the result of some sort of pest or blight. They would make for good fuel if it got cold enough to need a tiny fire, and the way the overhanging rocks split and jutted out would hopefully divide and disperse whatever smoke it might create. Taking a moment, Rogue inspected the inside of the cave. There was a chance it had been a bear's den at one time, and the musky smell wasn't exactly pleasant. But there were dried leaves, and twigs, as well as some soft moss, and it would make for a decent temporary shelter to keep them out of the impending storm.

The young woman shivered in Gambit's coat and quickly gathered a few smaller branches and leaves that littered the ground nearby. Tucking them into the back of the cave, she flinched when a few large raindrops plopped onto her head and shoulders, and she cursed, turning around to head back for Remy before they both got soaked.

Rogue couldn't help but worry about him. The way his physical health had declined after eating the berries - even after he'd vomited most of them up - and the rapid onset of the fever had her more nervous than she cared to admit to herself. When he had first left her at the base of that moraine to follow the robots this morning, she had been convinced that she was just scared to do this on her own. That while she would be sad if he died, her fear was derived mostly from the idea of being alone.

Now, however, Rogue realized that she wasn't afraid of being alone. She was afraid of losing HIM. She liked him. As in 'liked-liked' him, as Kitty would put it. That stolen kiss in the meadow of white flowers, and her later, overwhelming relief that he hadn't been killed, had very much solidified that realization. And that kiss had been… Well, NICE, sure, but it was meaningless. A 'good luck,' and 'I might die' kind of harmless peck. Right?

Meaningless though the kiss had been, it had wriggled and squirmed in the back of her mind all day until she finally gave in to the realization that she wasn't simply developing a crush on Remy. She LIKED him. A lot, in fact. So much so, that if something happened to him on this misadventure, it wouldn't simply make her sad or wrack her with guilt.

If something happened to him, it would destroy her.

It wasn't love, of course. They were CLOSE, sure, but not THAT close. Nor had they known each other long enough for something so poignant and heavy as LOVE to take root.

This was just … confusing. This was forced proximity creating exaggerated feelings of affection, and friendship, and desire. His tenderness and playful banter, even his suggestive flirtations, all served to make her crazy and twist up her insides with a new, pleasant warmth she'd never experienced before.

But it certainly wasn't love.

No, she LIKED him. That much was clear. She could admit to that. She could even admit that she enjoyed that small, quick kiss he'd surprised her with in that flower field.

Hell, she could even admit that she wanted to do it again.

In fact, if he hadn't gotten sick so quickly into their little 'wager,' she might have actually surprised him with a little peck of her own.

That thought superheated her face, the cold raindrops tickling her face practically evaporating on contact. She took a deep breath, calming her racing thoughts, and the nagging concerns about Remy's condition as she focused on moving a little faster as the storm continued closing in on them.

The rain was drizzling at a steady pace when she arrived at the clearing where she'd left him, and her stomach dropped.

Remy was gone.

Heart pounding, Rogue looked around, checking around the small clearing and surrounding trees for any sign of robots, or the cajun Acolyte. She didn't want to yell out for him in case he'd been captured and they were waiting for her. The thought that he'd been taken by Apocalypse's minions made her stomach lurch and eyes burn, and she had to fight to keep from hyperventilating.

Holding back her own fear and nausea, Rogue carefully stepped out from the trees and darted over to the rock where she'd left Remy. His pants were still in a wad on the soft ground and the rocks surrounding the patch were disturbed as if he'd shuffled off on his own rather than being nabbed by a giant robot.

Hazarding another look around as she crouched near the boulder, Rogue bit her lip before she called a muted, "Gambit! Where are you?"

There was no response. She stood, heart squeezing and mind racing, and cried out, louder this time. "Answer me, Swamp Rat!"

This time a tiny moan carried across the rocky valley, barely audible over the whistling of the trees and the steady drumming of raindrops on the ground and leaves. Ears perked, Rogue turned toward the sound and after a moment of searching in the distance, saw a flash of pale skin against the quickly darkening earth.

"Remy!" The pain in her feet and ribs were forgotten as she sprinted through the rain toward his prone figure. She was at his side in seconds, kneeling next to him and looking him over. Her face flamed brighter than the sun as she realized he had completely - COMPLETELY - undressed himself, leaving only his shoes. His shirt and black underwear had been discarded and were now saturated with rain, just like everything else. "Oh mah lord, Cajun. Ah can't leave you alone for five minutes, can Ah?" Her voice was light as she focused on his face and tried to ignore his perfect, shapely butt.

She laid her hand against his forehead, brushing hair from his face and checking his temperature as best she could. He was burning up; had probably removed his clothes in a fever dream attempt to cool himself down. The low moan he made both heartened and terrified the southern girl. He was in bad shape and probably didn't have the strength to really walk, but they couldn't stay here in the open. The clouds were black and angry, the wind picking up as thunder clapped in the distance. The storm was fast approaching and the chance of a tree falling on them - or being hit by lightning - was too great.

"Come on, Gambit," she crooned, still smoothing his hair back and caressing his forehead. "Ah found a decent shelter. Ain't far, but Ah need ya t' help me, okay?" His red on black eyes opened slightly and blinked at her wearily, though he gave no indication he understood.

"First thing's first, though," Rogue muttered, her cheeks deepening with color as she moved to slide his boxers over his booted feet. "Gotta at least have some underpants, first." She chuckled lightly, trying to lighten the tension only she could feel. "After all, Ah'm already reigning champion of streakin' in the forest." She dragged the silky material up over his calves, but his thighs were too heavy and sticky with water to force.

With a deep breath to calm her fluttering pulse and stomach full of butterflies, she rolled the semi-conscious Cajun onto his side so she could coerce the stubborn fabric up along his drenched skin. Her new dilemma, however, was that she was now directly facing his …

Rogue's eyes widened before she immediately averted her gaze, hands now shaking from both the cold and nervousness. She couldn't ruminate on the vision presented before her, however - impressive and intriguing though it was - when Remy was so poorly.

"L-like what you s-see, cherie?" Even as ill and incapacitated as he was, Remy LeBeau smirked lightly, his red on black eyes meeting her green ones even as he tried to help pull the fabric over his hips.

Her face turned so red and hot she could have roasted marshmallows on her cheeks. "Don't know what your talkin' about. Ah didn't see a thing." The steadiness in her tone and hands - all while pulling his boxers up over his flaccid girth - was surprising to even herself.

The Cajun chuckled, but groaned as the small jostle to his stomach made him gag and retch with fruitless dry heaves. By the time he had stopped shuddering, they were both trembling from the cold as the wind howled around them and the rain pelted them with thick, heavy drops.

"Come on, Swamp Rat. Ah found some shelter, but Ah need you t' stand." She pulled his arm up around her shoulders and helped him to his feet, although it took a few tries.

~X~

By the time they reached the small overhang, both mutants were shivering violently. Rogue had practically dragged the barely lucid man to the cave, draping his chest over her back and shoulder, and her ribs and chest protested with agonizing spasms of pain.

Gratefully, the inside of the overhang was relatively dry, and Rogue laid the sickly, feverish, moaning Cajun into the far end. Another chill raced down her spine as his saturated coat clung to her skin. There was a small trickle of water seeping out from the rock wall, but she was able to direct it away from them with a few well placed stones. It was the perfect opportunity to create a small pool of rainwater, allowing them a fresh drinking source. It wasn't perfect, but it was a far cry better than they'd had the rest of the week.

Rogue carefully scooped a small handful of the liquid into her hands and dripped it into Remy's mouth. He shifted and coughed, groaning as he pushed away the rest. "Rem, you've gotta drink some water." She brushed her hand along his cheek, letting her thumb rub along the stubble of his jaw. "Ah know you don't feel good, sugah, but you can't get dehydrated. Lord knows we're already strugglin' enough." Her teeth chattered lightly as if to illustrate her point, and she peeled off the sodden garment, trying to rub some warmth back into her frozen limbs before doing the same with his arms and legs.

Gambit said nothing, but his deep shudder let her know that although he was still fevering, his body desperately needed warmth. She dug around in Remy's pockets for the small knife he kept folded up - the same one he'd given her on their very first night together in a cave much like this one. This time, however, she put the steel blade to good use, shaving off bits of bark from the small dried twigs in the shelter. Once she had a good nest of soft, dry material, she picked up as many stones and rocks as she could find, inspecting each one before either placing them near her shavings pile, or discarding them to build up her makeshift water basin.

It took a while for her to gather enough materials to properly prepare. Every few minutes she had to stop and rub herself and Remy vigorously, frequently blowing puffs of warm breath into her cupped hands to warm her fingers. Her cheeks flushed when she tucked Gambit's hands between his legs, letting the area of highest concentrated body heat keep his fingers from freezing while she worked. She picked up every stone and struck it carefully with the pocket knife, smiling whenever one of them sparked. Once she had the right stones, and had carefully shaved off bits of flint from some sedimentary and limestone, she spent a few minutes very precariously trying to get a good spark to light her creation.

"YES!" Rogue hollered triumphantly even as her teeth clacked so loudly it sounded like she was knocking rocks together. "Thank you, Logan!" She praised her mentor, not for the first time, for his rigorous, previously abhorred survivalist training. Within moments she had nurtured the tiny flame into a fire that was just big enough to give off heat, but without creating huge plumes of smoke. She spent a few minutes warming herself, made sure there was plenty of wood to feed it, and then went back out into the storm.

She had to find a way to retain some heat in their little shelter, or they would freeze to death in the middle of the night. Though the logs and branches she gathered weren't heavy, her hands were so frozen that she couldn't hold onto them very well, and she was grateful that the alcove itself wasn't very tall. It didn't take long to almost completely block the entrance with tree limbs, and she left openings at the top through which any smoke could escape. Still, by the time she slid back inside the alcove and placed the final branch, her whole body felt like one giant block of ice.

Rogue hardly shivered as she stoked the fire, perhaps making it grow a little larger than was safe inside the confined space, and with the ever present threat of Apocalypse's goons looming. Her mind was clouded and confused, as if the cold had seeped into the gray matter of her brain, making it almost as numb as her fingers and toes. A murmur from Gambit, who was curled on his side just a foot or so from her back roused her somewhat, and she turned to check on him. She barely remembered that he needed to drink water, and she dipped her frozen hand into the dammed up water basin, a frown settling over her trembling lips when she realized the cold water actually felt warm.

It was NOT a good sign.

Still, she pushed the fear of hypothermia and frostbite from her mind and focused on Remy. He was still very pale, with a hint of blue highlighting his lower lip. It took three or four tries before she could get her hand to stop shaking long enough to bring some water to his lips, but she smiled lightly when he sipped the liquid from her cupped fingers.

Bleary red on black eyes blinked up at her, the small frown on his face deepening as his gaze raked over her. "R-Rogue," he half pleaded, half moaned her name as he reached out to grasp her hand. His fingers were so hot, it felt as if she'd thrust hers into the fire, and they both gasped at the juxtaposing sensations.

"Y - y'r f-freezin' chere," he managed, brows furrowing into a pained expression.

"S-so are y-ou," she tried to chuckle, but her violent trembling created more of a gasp.

"We g-gotta get w-warm, he whispered again, but his eyes were already flitting closed.

"Got a f-fire," she offered, still trying to keep her voice light. Her eyes were welling with tears though; the cold, her own exhaustion, and the nearly unbearable pain in her ribs all compounding into an almost insurmountable emotional response.

"C-C'mere," Remy whispered, giving her hand a tiny tug. "T-turn 'round."

Rogue didn't argue. Didn't know if she even could at this point. It was taking every ounce of willpower not to cry from the sting of a thousand invisible needles on her frozen, slowly thawing skin. She actually preferred the bone-numbing cold at this point. At least then she couldn't FEEL the intensity of the hypothermia.

Remy's fingers were deliciously warm against her back and shoulders, though, as she felt his digits caress at the top of her soaked dress. When he loosened the ties on the back of the garment, she didn't even protest. She was shaking so badly by that point, her teeth rattling so hard she was sure they would break, that he could have had his way with her without so much as a raised fist. She wouldn't have even complained - so long as he kept rubbing warmth back into her body.

The dress was untied and he was helping lift it over her head before she could even register his intentions. She looked back at him for a moment, turning a little as her goosebump covered arms protected her now bare breasts. His eyes were already closed, though, and his hands moved together to wrap around her waist, coaxing her to press her lithe, frozen body against his chest.

No words were spoken as Rogue kept her arms firmly around herself, and Remy enveloped her shivering form in his feverish warmth. Together they scooted a little closer to the little fire, so that Rogue could put a few more pieces of wood on it. They couldn't afford to let their only real source of heat go out. There was always a chance that Apocalypse's goons would see the smoke, but the intensely pouring rain outside rather lessened that chance. Curling up and spooning close enough to the flame that they could both warm their arms and legs in the soft glow, Rogue sighed as her violent trembling finally died down.

It had to be only around 6:00 in the evening, but she was exhausted; she wanted nothing more than to fall into blissful slumber, but knew it was out of the question.

Remy was in no state to care for himself, let alone mind the fire, and she had to stay alert in case there was any sign of trouble. As much as she hated the idea of dousing their only heat source, she knew it might be necessary if those robots came around. And, until then, she had to keep that fire going. So she stared into the dancing orange and red flames, the heat from Remy's feverish body, the fire, and her own nerves at being once again naked with the Cajun, all converging to slowly warm her from the inside out.

~X~X~X~X~X~

So many, many thanks to A.J., who helped beta this and gave me much needed ideas and encouragement. I was stuck on this bad boy for SO long, and it was driving me crazy, but she came in, made a few comments and suggestions, and my hyperfixation was restored! Once I really got going with this chapter, I had a lot of fun with it. ESPECIALLY the flirtation part. I was actually a little sad I cut that so short, but it WILL pick back up in the next scenes.

For anyone who's paying attention, it is about the fourth day. There are little bitty clues embedded in all the chapters that will give you an idea of where Rogue and Gambit are (especially in relation to what is going on and the time of such at Xaviers. Most of the scenes of the funeral and the ROMY stuff are happening simultaneously, which is why the transitions between those scenes are very closely aligned. I wanted to show a convergence of what was occurring in different locations to tie them together and make the whole affair feel more connected.

I wish I had the writing abilities of truly amazing authors like Ava D'Alain (Voodoo Blues and many wonderful sequels), but I appreciate those of you who still enjoy and comment on this story. That said, if anyone else would like to volunteer to go through these with a fine tooth comb for syntax errors, word repetitions, etc, I would love it. I honestly feel like I have early onset Alzheimers because I keep using the same word twice in the same SENTENCE without even realizing it until later. And I am having issues with remembering certain words and what I want to say. It's really, REALLY bugging me.

That said, there are really only about 5, maybe 6, chapters left of this story.

Also, I need chapter title ideas for this one!

*Cooked Bear idea from DragonMoon

**Uncanny X-Men #382 - Gambit's speech to Dirge

*** Another Fan/comment idea from (_)

**** Excerpts from "God Loves, Man Kills" - many thanks to AJ for so many amazing suggestions and her help with finding sources!

*A favorite line from the O.G. Animated Series

** Another AJ exclusive. Girl is so good about helping me when I'm stuck!

*** Quote from X-Men the Animated Series