Getting Warmer Higher Rating! M

by Wiccamage

Updated 7/15/24! AU Dark Horizons. After defeating the X-Men, Apocalypse takes Rogue as his queen. Will a certain Cajun be able to save her before the unthinkable happens? Ch. 24: Every action has an equal and opposite reaction, as well as a consequence, and the repercussions when Apocalypse visits the Acolyte's dreams could spell disaster - or destiny - for Rogue and Remy.

23. Chapter 23: Calefaction

*Calefaction: (kal-uh-fak-shuhn) The act of heating up
** Songs: "Calling All Angels" by Jane Siberry (with KD Lang); "Arms" by Christina Perry
***AJ is amazing, and I never could have made this chapter so incredible without her input!

WARNING: STRONG M - rated scenes: *nudity, suggestive content, and descriptions that are sexual in nature*

~X~X~X~X~X~
Getting Warmer
Chapter 23: Calefaction
~X~X~X~X~X~

With one arm slung over her bare breasts, Rogue shuddered against the lingering chill in the air. The fire had warmed the small space somewhat, but the pile of branches and twigs she had gathered earlier was slowly waning as she kept the flames alive. It took the better part of what she assumed was an hour, but the combined heat of Remy's body wrapped around her, and the fire in front of her had finally warmed her to the point she could move again.

Most impressive, she thought, was that she managed to stay awake despite the pain and chill that still lanced through every inch of her body. Part of that, of course, was due to the intensely intimate and precarious position she was in. Her back was still pressed to Remy's nude chest and legs, and his arm was draped over her waist, his fingers sometimes flexing, sometimes relaxing, along the smooth, taught skin of her stomach. Her own hand was now laced through his, keeping his digits safe and secure against her bare flesh. She'd felt his every shudder, every sigh and twitch, as he slept fitfully beside her.

The mere thought of him waking up - or worse, of his fingers unwittingly traveling too far up or down her body - AGAIN - made her skin ripple with heated embarrassment. It was a contributing factor in why she was still awake now. Hell, it was the ONLY factor. At one point she had dozed off, lulled by the steady rhythm of Remy's breathing and the tiny, crackling fire. Before the flames had even been reduced to coals, however, his warm palm had caressed over her skin, dragging further upward to ultimately cup and squeeze her breast in the midst of his insensate fever-dream. She had immediately lurched awake, elbowing him sharply as she simultaneously covered herself and lifted her fist, ready to pummel the dirty, rotten scoundrel.

The Acolyte had only moaned at her malignant retaliation, though, his incoherent state begging both his innocence, and her forgiveness. Still, she had watched him warily, coiled and ready to pounce on any indication he had been anything less than oblivious to his own actions. Once she had built up the fire once more and begrudgingly settled back against him, she'd made sure to lock down that sleepwalking hand of his with her own.

With her body tucked into his once more, Rogue's cheeks had flamed anew as her oversensitized synapses fired off promptly thereafter, the shock of the unexpected act slowly bleeding into an unsettled sense of pleasure.

Good God, she'd enjoyed that. Still was, if she was honest with herself.

She felt that pleasure bubbling from her belly and spreading outward through her entire being as she ruminated on it. Laying in the firelight, their nude bodies lending life, warmth, and safety to one another; his deliciously talented digits intertwined with hers. Digits that had rolled her nipple between thumb and forefinger with such a practiced air that it seemed second nature even while he'd slept. She wondered, however briefly, what else those fingers were capable of. Of what pleasures he could elicit from her otherwise untouched skin. While he slept, she could speculate. She could pretend. She could indulge.

While he slept, she could luxuriate in the little fantasies she'd denied herself for years.

She imagined his hands and lips roaming over her touch-starved body, tangling in auburn and black curls alike as he satisfied every inch of her. Part of her mind - fractured as it was by the losing battle against the hormones Remy had unconsciously reignited - longed to guide his practically comatose hand to a warmer, more pleasant region of her body. Her face turned crimson as the thought sparked wickedly in her brain. She tamped it back down instantly, sanity and logic giving her mind a good shake, and she doused her fantasies faster than water on a flame.

She'd barely been 15 when her powers had manifested, and although she'd been a few years into puberty, she'd never had an interest in girly things like love, marriage, or kids. Never wanted a relationship, or a boyfriend, or any of that physical stuff they entailed. Not that Irene would have let such a thing as a boyfriend happen, anyhow.

But, once she'd come to grips with her powers - on the same night Mystique had 'rescued' her from the X-Men - on that cold, terrifying night in the cemetery - she'd cried herself to sleep with all the 'never's' that swirled in her head. She'd realized, on that same ill-fated evening, that all the things she never WANTED to do, had contorted into a haunting, demonic vision of what she'd never GET to do.

And, well, she'd realized then, that she had wanted them all along.

She still wanted them. In her heart of hearts she wanted to hug, and kiss, and be intimate with another human being. To have a boyfriend, who would become a husband, who would become a daddy. She wanted to have kids. Wanted to cradle her own little babies to sleep in a rocking chair while her husband sang them sweet lullabies.

And she wept. Now, just the same as she had on the first night she'd become a mutant, Rogue grieved for the life she could never have, yet so desperately, desperately wanted. In the dark confines of this alcove, with a sickly Cajun Acolyte curled around her, she realized how truly alone and unhappy she'd been for the last several years - even before her powers.

She'd kept these desires and fears so deeply hidden inside her own mind that she had almost forgotten they even existed. Daily, she had tried to convince herself that she didn't care about such things. After all, as Mystique had reckoned with Rogue on her first day with the Brotherhood, it was pointless to waste an iota of energy on a silly fantasy that would never come true.

But, as Remy shifted behind her, his arm tightening around her reflexively, she realized just how much she wanted all of it. All those things her powers prevented her from having. The husband, the house, the kids. And, of course, all the physical aspects of life and relationships she'd been missing. The feel of Remy's hard, warm body, and his dormant yet sizable,girth pressing against her bottom, reminded her that her dreams and fantasies didn't end with 2.5 kids and a white picket fence.

Rogue wanted TOUCH. Needed it. Craved it.

To dance, and caress, and massage, and wrestle, and kiss, and make love to someone. God, she wanted to know what it was like to have sex. She wanted to experience every delicious sensation and risque - well, MILDLY risque - sexual activity with a man she was hopelessly, madly in love with. Someone who would have her back no matter what. Someone who wouldn't run scared from her fiery southern temper or often unpredictable moods. Someone who could make her laugh, work alongside her, cuddle with her, and still make her toes curl with mind-blowing sex.

Thinking about intercourse, and the gorgeous specimen of a man curled around her like a breathing blanket, was making Rogue's previously chilled flesh feel uncomfortably overheated. She had to get herself back under control. Put away this ridiculous fantasy about things she would have to work for YEARS to see come to fruition. Hell, these were things she probably wouldn't live long enough to experience with the threat of Apocalypse looming over her shoulder at every moment.

This certainly wasn't the time or place to pine over such girlish, unattainable desires.

Sitting up from the feverish, curled frame of her companion, she glanced back at him to ensure he wasn't peeking at her nude form. Her eyes raked over his perfectly chiseled - nope! No, she wasn't going to indulge such thoughts. Not now, maybe not ever. Remy was sick, and he needed her help; she couldn't afford to let herself wonder about inconsequential details.

Rogue built up and stoked the tiny fire, kicking up a few embers and checking that the smoke hadn't become too thick as it trickled out the top of their lean-to. The last thing they needed was for Apocalypse's goons to detect the tiny wisps of smoke and find them. Pulling a few more branches that she'd collected before it had started raining earlier, she sawed pieces off them, trying not to make noise, but knowing it was inevitable. She quickly built the fire up a little higher to stave off the cold seeping through the gaps in her makeshift wall. All the while she snuck peeks back at Remy to check that he wasn't ogling her.

Despite the sawing and breaking of branches, and her constant movements, Remy never stirred. He was truly out cold, and deep lines of worry marred Rogue's already harrowed face. After four nights of slumbering next to each other, she had learned that the Cajun was an exceptionally light sleeper. He'd once even woken from a dead sleep to kill a mouse that had been trying to nibble at her toes.

Hesitating only a little, the X-Man reached back and brushed her hand across Gambit's forehead, gasping at the intense heat that licked at her partially frozen fingers. Shaking digits smoothed down his cheek to rest at his throat as she fumbled to find his pulse. It was weak and thready, and her stomach dropped.

"Oh gawd, Remy." Fresh tears sprang to Rogue's eyes as she frantically glanced around the makeshift lean-to. The thrum of rain beat relentlessly over the crude log wall she had erected, and despite the extra warmth of the fire, Remy's body still felt cold against her own tepid skin.

She could feel her panic rising. She wasn't a medic. She knew how to staunch the flow of blood - temporarily - but she had no idea how to help him for this. She knew charcoal was used for poisoning, but would something like ash work in a pinch? Or would that make things worse? *

Breathing into her cupped hands to stave off the frostbite that nipped at her fingertips, the southern girl forced herself back into a state of calm. Remy needed help - needed a doctor - but they weren't exactly within spitting distance of another living soul, let alone a hospital. The best thing they had to a medic was the remnant of one that had lived in her head since she'd accidentally absorbed Beast during a Danger Room session.

She'd had tiny flashes or impressions of other people's memories and lives throughout their 'adventure' in the forest. She'd even recalled - with some effort - bits of Logan's and Ororo's survivalist knowledge. But could she do it at will? Did she even dare? The psyches that once flooded her head may have been relatively absent since Apocalypse stole her powers, but it hadn't quelled her terror about losing herself to the minds and memories of someone else.

Now, however, she was far more terrified of losing Remy.

With a deep breath, Rogue closed her eyes and thought hard about Henry 'Beast' McCoy, the 'doctor'. With great effort, she shifted through bits of his memories - mulling through anything she could reach out and grasp within her mind. It was a lot like trying to catch a soap bubble, and many of them popped in her psychic 'hands' before she could fully recall them.

Disheartened and desperate at her lack of progress, she finally imagined Mr. McCoy standing before her, of letting her own psychic representation melt into his - of his life, his memories, his whole self becoming one with hers - and all at once her eyes flew open.

"Oh dear," she muttered with a voice that was reminiscent of her own, yet carried a far deeper, huskier tone.

With hands that felt disembodied from herself, she maneuvered Remy so he was a little closer to the fire, his back to the small flames. With remarkably steady hands, she scooped water from the trough she'd created, dripping it over his lips and smoothing more of it across his brow and into his hair.

His fever was too high, but his body was too cold. Somehow, she instinctively understood that she needed to reverse those temperature effects. Their wet clothes were strewn across the small space where she'd dumped them, including her sodden dress. It was by far the coldest and wettest of their clothes, and she picked it up, wringing it out just a little before swathing the garment over and around his neck, forehead, and hair in an attempt to bring down his fever.

With deft, nimble fingers, she picked up and wrung out the rest of their clothes, taking care to keep the liquid away from the fire, their sleeping space, and the little basin of 'fresh' rain water run-off. She used a few of the saturated branches near the entrance to prop his coat and uniform, as well as the socks she'd removed hours ago, against the rocky wall closest to the fire. The other scraps of fabric were then draped carefully over some of the extra stones she had gathered, and placed near the small nest of flames. She made sure they weren't close enough to catch fire, of course, then she silently put her shoes back on, lacing up the ties as she looked around.

Green eyes imbued with a golden haze analyzed the size of the fire, the remaining wood, and the amount of smoke that ebbed up and out of the temporary doorway. With a huff of annoyance and a snort of consternation, Rogue grabbed the pocket knife from the pocket of Remy's coat, pulled back a small hole in her wall, and peeked out, watching momentarily for any sign of Apocalypse's goons. With unnatural agility, the young woman shimmied through the gap without a scratch, then walked a few feet away from the overhang to survey the smoke that rippled out.

She nodded curtly, satisfied by the way the gray tendrils of gas and soot dissipated and vanished under the torrent of rain and trees. It was impossible to tell the time because of the storm, but it wasn't yet dark. If she had to hazard a guess, she would place the hour somewhere between 7 and 8pm based on the looming twilight. Moving swiftly, she gathered armloads of branches and twigs that had been somewhat protected from the rain by large overhanging pines. It wasn't much, and most of it would take too long to burn, but it would have to do for now.

Rogue peeked through the gap in her doorway to check on Remy, who hadn't moved or stirred at all. She barely felt the cold as she pushed her bundles through the hole, then went back out into the rain to saw off heavier branches that were covered with leaves.

"'Chop your own wood and it shall warm you twice.' A most fitting axiom for a most fitting circumstance." Rogue's deepened, almost unfamiliar voice muttered even as the edge of her mouth tilted up in a smile. After a few minutes, the slight, yet shapely girl dragged the heavy foliage over to her doorway and laid them across in random directions, completely covering the fairly obvious wall she'd previously created.

Once done, she stood back to admire her handiwork. The smoke still had room to escape the alcove, but it was even less noticeable, and the 'wall' now resembled something of an unobtrusive bush rather than a hastily erected pile of logs. She nodded to herself, stepped under the overhang of the cliff to get out of the rain, then quickly wiped the excess water from her bare skin. She wrung out her hair, then bent slightly, giving her head and body a quick shake, as if it were second nature to dispel the water in such a way. Finally, she pried open a small hole in her improved wall and climbed through.

The rough branches caught her skin in a few places, and though the tiny cuts welled with blood, she paid them no mind as she closed the gap. She knelt and warmed herself by the fire opposite of Remy, making sure to arrange the branches she had collected so they would dry by the fire before building it up with a few more twigs.

After she was satisfied with the fire and provisions, she sat on a soft bit of moss next to Remy and removed her shoes, briefly examining her blistered and oozing wounds on her feet and calves. She tutted, shaking her head, then sought out the dandelions they had stored in Gambit's coat. With an air of practiced confidence, she broke off pieces of the stem and applied the milk to a few of the worst spots, using the slightly damp scraps near the fire to protect her legs and feet from further contamination.

Finally satisfied that her 'own' needs were managed, she shuffled closer to the Acolyte to check his condition. Skilled hands took his pulse, and she scowled at the lack of improvement. Her fingers danced along his forehead, lifting the cold cloth away momentarily. At least he didn't seem so hot anymore.

Maneuvering around to kneel in front of him, Rogue lifted one of his eyelids with her fingers. A flashlight would be rather helpful, but she would just have to make due with what she had. She snapped in the Acolyte's ear a few times and shook his shoulder.

"Gambit?" she called, her gravelly yet feminine voice barely above a whisper. "Gambit, can you hear me?" Another handful of water dripped across his lips, splashed against his warm face, and a few more snaps and shoulder shakes, and finally red on black eyes blinked up at her languidly.

With a large, toothy smile, Rogue brought more water to his lips, and this time he sipped it greedily, even though he was still barely conscious.

"R-Rogue?" Gambit groaned, blurred vision seeing yet not quite recognizing the young woman who sat so confidently and unabashed before him.

"Well, yes and no," she grinned broadly. Still, there was an unfamiliar yellow tint to her green eyes, and a sort of sheepishness that had nothing to do with her current state of dress. "Rogue is here, in a manner of speaking."

"N-no," Remy shuddered, moaning as he tried to sit up. "Get -get outta her head. She don - don't wan' ya."

"Be still, my friend. All is well. This was Rogue's choice. You're very ill and she didn't know what to do."

"N-n-no," his breathing increased, pulse rapid yet weak as he tried once again to move. "S' her worst fear. W-won' let her d-do it."

"As you wish, but I implore you to lie still." That deep voice chastised him once more, her lithe, strong hand pressing him back down even as her body language shifted from poised and boxy, to soft and feminine.

"Dammit Cajun! Can't ya just let me take care a' YOU for once?" Rogue groused at him in mock anger, her voice returning to that honey sweet, though irritated, southern lilt as her face flamed in embarrassment. She removed her hands from his body to cover herself reflexively.

Remy visibly relaxed, the breath in his lungs exhaling in a rush as he stared into her bright green eyes. She was blushing in that characteristic manner, and hastily cast her gaze away as his red irises raked up her blurry body. He sighed, exhausted and sickly, yet contented, and his eyelids drooped despite his valiant efforts to keep them open.

"Rest, suga'," she crooned, finally meeting his eyes as she leaned over to caress his cheek with her free hand. Despite the heaviness of his limbs, he lifted his own to cover hers. He longed to turn his head just a little to press a soft kiss in the center of her palm, but he was spent. Still, he fought against his body's need for rest. He didn't want to succumb to the darkness and leave her there to fight her demons alone.

"Cold," he murmured, though he wasn't certain which of them he was talking about. His eyes fluttered closed, and he felt her shift and maneuver around him carefully. Rather unexpectedly, her soft, chilled, slightly damp body cuddled up along his - chest to chest - with her hand resting on his cheek a moment longer before running up and down his back. He sighed deeply, not even sure of whether he was dreaming or awake any more.

As she tucked her body into him, her soft bosom pressed against his hard, muscular chest, Rogue's fingers worked circles into his shoulder and neck, anywhere her free hand could reach. She played with his hair as she murmured in his ear, "Sleep, Remy. Please. Get better,"

Drifting somewhere between that state of consciousness and dreams, the Cajun shifted, wrapping both arms around her waist as he pulled her closer, wriggling around until he was comfortable. He didn't hear her sharp intake of breath, or feel the heat of Rogue's blush as his stubble scraped against her collarbone, his nose tucked into her throat.

After a moment, he groaned lightly, and a frown spilled from her chapped lips as she sniffled from the cold. "Hush. Relax hun," she whispered, her free hand reaching up to stroke his hair and re-wrap his forehead with the wet cloth of her dress. "Fais dodo, right?"

"S-Sin' f'r meh," he moaned almost incoherently, lips stumbling over the fever-fog in his brain.

Rogue blushed anew, face and shoulders awash in warmth and color. He was closer to her than was really appropriate, or comfortable for her, yet all she cared about was his well-being. Somehow the idea of singing for him was perhaps even more embarrassing than their current arrangement. Still, she hesitated only a moment, then whispered the words to his familiar song, barely changing her voice to match the lilt of the melody.

"Fais dodo, Colas mon p'tit frère; fais dodo t'auras du lolo." Her voice lacked the sweet French accents as she begrudgingly acquiesced to his fevered request, but he sighed contentedly nonetheless.

She continued, low and somewhat uncertain, but her alto voice softened as Rogue felt Remy sink into a deeper slumber. Under the guise of trying to warm him, her hand never stopped caressing his hair, his back, his neck, any inch of skin she could reach. Even after he was asleep, she repeated her caresses and the french lullaby for a few more minutes.

As a tear dripped down her nose to land on Gambit's forehead, the X-Man began a new song. It was one she knew by heart - a song she listened to whenever she was feeling particularly defeated or depressed.

** "Santa Maria, Santa Teresa, Santa Anna, Santa Susannah…"

She whispered the first lines like a prayer, because - in her mind at least - that's precisely what it was.

"Santa, Santos, Miroslaw, Vladimir … and all the rest." Her voice caught, eyes clenched tight as she prayed to a God and saints she'd been taught NOT to believe in by her mother.

"Oh, a man is placed upon the steps, and a baby cries.

High above, you can hear the church bells start to ring.

And as the heaviness, oh the heaviness of the body settles in,

Somewhere you can hear a mother sing."

Tears fell from her eyes, unrestrained yet silent, as she listened to the Cajun's ragged, heavy breathing, and held him tighter against her bosom.

"Then it's one foot, then the other, as you step out on the road.
How much weight? How much?

Then it's how long, and how far, and how many times…

O-oh, before it's too late?"

Her own breath came in tiny gasps as she half sang, half sobbed the one song that had always brought her comfort. Had always reminded her that the darkest of times were only temporary, and that beauty could be found in the wake of any storm.

"Calling all Angels. Calling all Angels.

Walk me through this one.

Don't leave me alone…

Calling all Angels. Calling all Angels,

We're tryin', we're hopin', but we're not sure how…"

Her voice cracked, barely squeaking out the melody as she buried her damp cheeks in Remy's hair and kissed his forehead tenderly.

"Oh gawd, Remy. Please don't die. Please? Ah can't do this without you." Barely restrained sobs wracked her chest as the Cajun's head bobbed up and down with her every shuddering breath.

After a while, when she had no more tears to shed, she lay still and quiet, just listening to the sounds of the slowly dying storm, and the man in her arms.

~X~X~X~

Black clouds loomed in the darkened sky over Xavier's School of Gifted Youngsters. The funeral for Rogue had ended a few hours ago, after a beautiful and touching service. Dinner had been served out on the lawns directly thereafter, and even the Morlocks had stayed well past the end of the meal and nightfall. Many students had lingered into the night as well, either sitting quietly with their own thoughts, talking to friends at the handful of garden tables, or breaking into groups to hug and console each other. Others had sought out Kitty, to give her a hug or their condolences, or to inquire where Kurt and Logan were. But, shortly after the sun had sunk beyond the horizon and the moon had risen, the skies had opened up and the heavens wept, forcing all those who remained to grab the rain slickers under their chairs, or make a mad-dash for the house.

The cause of the quickly mounting storm was currently locked in her private ensuite as she tried unsuccessfully to rein-in her rebellious emotions. Choked sobs erupted from Ororo Munroe's lips as tears cascaded down her cheeks. She was seated on the floor, her back against the sink cabinet, face buried in her knees.

"Hey there, darlin'," Logan slid onto the edge of the tub across from the weather witch, legs spread wide as he rested his elbows on his knees. The stub of a dead cigar hung from his mouth, the paper curling slightly from large splotches of raindrops that had saturated the material.

"I need to be alone, Wolverine!" Storm growled from between her knees, but the cracking of her voice, matched by the cracking of thunder outside, belied her insistence.

The gruff Canadian snorted. "Uh huh. Tell me another one, " he snorted, pulling the cigar from his mouth without tossing it.

"I must get my emotions back under control," she whimpered. Frustration seeped from her voice, but it was the despair lacing her words that had Logan sitting alongside her in an instant.

"Yer allowed t' feel yer grief, 'Ro," he reminded her softly. With his arm snaking around her back, Logan pulled her into a gentle hug, coaxing her to rest her head on his shoulder.

"But the children," she started, lifting her head to meet his eyes. "They need..."

He cut her off, his hand smoothing back her white, flowing hair. "The kids'll be fine, Ororo. Yer the one been bottling it all up, taking' care a everyone else. Time someone took care a' you." He smiled knowingly as she snorted.

"Are you the pot, or the kettle, my friend?" Her grin was small, but appreciative as she melted into his side, warmed by the comfort of his presence.

"Darlin'," he grinned, "I'm the whole damn kitchen." As if to make his point, he popped a claw and used it to stab the half-used cigar, reaching over to slide it into the trash bin.

A watery chuckle was her only response, but Logan was heartened that she did not remove her cheek from his shoulder. He could smell her tears, salty and warm as they cascaded down her face and saturated his shirt.

"I feel so guilty, Logan," she finally sighed. "That I never tried harder to get to know her, to truly befriend her the way you did. Despite her considerable impacts on so many, it seems she had so few real friends. I only pray that Gambit was able to be one to her before she died."

A low growl rumbled in Wolverine's chest. "I ain't convinced he's not the one that killed, her, Storm." The doubt and anger he'd been feeling, that gnawing sense of uncertainty bubbled from his lips, rage simmering just below the surface of his mind.

"He would not!" Sad blue eyes turned indignant and harsh as Ororo sat up abruptly, staring him down.

Her vehemence was so great that Logan couldn't help the quizzical look that passed across his face. "You know something I don't, Ororo?" His brown eyes narrowed. "Because the way I see it, Gambit's an Acolyte. The objective was to stop Apocalypse. If he knew Rogue was gonna be used as a weapon…" Wolverine barely kept his claws from popping of their own accord, but he certainly couldn't keep the snarl from his voice. "I'm just saying, Magneto or Sabertooth wouldn't have hesitated t' take her out before that happened."

Ororo shook her head, a small smile gracing her lips. "Remy would not do such a thing," she insisted.

"Remy?" Logan growled as his eyebrow raised in confusion and amusement. "Sounds like you knew him personally."

"I did, once." She sighed, taking a deep, shaky breath. "As a child." ***

Shuddering, she rubbed her arms to warm herself in the heated bathroom, and Logan coaxed her to his side once more, wrapping his muscular biceps around her shoulders. His body was warm and comforting, even as he frowned deeply.

A few moments of silence passed between them like a ghost, while memories of a life, long past, flitted across her mind. "I lived in Cairo with my mother when I was young. When…" she paused, taking a deep breath. "When I was small, my home was destroyed, collapsed on top of us and my parents were killed. My sister, Vivian, had already gone away to college. Our parents spent every penny they had to get her to America. I had no way to contact her, and she did not know anything was amiss until months had gone by. She was told there were no survivors. So I was on my own; I had to steal just to survive."

Logan's brow furrowed. He had known Ororo for a few years now, and this was the first he'd ever heard the story. It didn't sound at all like she'd had a pleasant childhood, and he never would have guessed that Ororo and her sister didn't grow up together in the happiest of families. He shook his errant thoughts as the weather witch took a shuddering breath.

"I joined a ring of thieves in Cairo. One night, when I was about 14, I was trying to escape with my loot and had to use my powers to save myself from a nasty fall. I managed to evade my pursuers temporarily, but I was accosted by other thieves who wished to take the gem I had procured. THAT is when I met Remy. He walked into a crowd of armed thieves and thugs as if he were invincible, with a certain swagger he still possesses to this day, apparently."

Ororo chuckled at that, and Logan snorted in amused derision. Yep. The Cajun certainly had an overabundance of arrogance and bravado.

She continued, still smiling lightly as her head rested on Logan's shoulder. "He was maybe 10 or 11, nearly a head shorter than myself, and yet he told this small band of men and boys twice his size that I was under HIS protection. That he wouldn't abide by them hurting someone who was just like him." Her shoulders shook with suppressed laughter as recalled the memory.

"I will never forget the sound of a grown man screaming like a small child when Remy took off his sunglasses and flashed his glowing red eyes. Of course, the other thieves were only put off for a moment, but Remy - small as he was - fought alongside me and we escaped. He introduced me to his father, Jean Luc, who was…" she faltered, eyes blinking as she bit her lip and swallowed. "Let us just say he was on business in Cairo at that time."

Logan grunted in understanding. Remy's past was not Storm's story to tell, and regardless of time or distance, she would not betray a confidence.

"We became friends. He was even more adept at thievery than I. We taught each other a great deal, and found we had much in common. We had both lived on the streets as children and had resorted to common theft to survive. I doubt his father knew exactly what we got up to during the few weeks they were visiting, but we certainly made enemies." Her face flashed in pain as she frowned and hugged herself closer. "I was attacked one night and badly injured; Remy saved me. He and his father cared for me, dressed my wounds, and insisted I stay with them while I recovered. Remy watched over me while I was injured. I often told him that he had the devil's eyes, but an angel's heart, even though he had to hide it from his family."

The weather witch reached up with the hand that wasn't tucked against Logan's side, brushing away the errant drops of emotion that cascaded down her cheeks while the rain outside wept against the window panes. "He and Jean Luc taught me some French, made sure I had a safe place to stay once they left, and Jean Luc ensured the men who had attacked me were brought to justice. He even offered to look into my sister's whereabouts once they returned to the states. It is because of them that I was eventually reunited with Vivian."

At this, Logan cleared his throat. "I always thought Charles helped you two reconnect."

Ororo shrugged. "In a way, yes. He arranged travel and escorted me to find her, helped explain what had happened to our parents, and that I had been living alone in Africa for nearly a decade. But it was Jean Luc and Remy who found her first. By the time they had returned to Louisiana and found Vivian's new address, I was…" she paused as a spike of anxiety and fear lanced through her. For a brief moment she recalled Farouk and his influence. She did not wish to get into that tonight, so she settled for a simpler explanation.

"I was … unreachable."

She took a deep breath, clearing away the fear that made the wind howl outside the bathroom window. "Xavier found me later, recruited me to the X-Men, and the first person I called when I arrived in the states was Jean Luc. By then, Remy had grown up and left Louisiana, but he made sure his entire family knew my name and would relay my sister's information if I should ever try to contact him." She chuckled, smiling brightly. "As children, Remy and I parted as friends - frere et soeur - brother and sister. I still feel the same connection to him, regardless of the time that has passed between us." *

The weather witch smiled warmly as her head rested on Logan's shoulder, but he could smell her affection melt into sorrow and anguish once more as she continued.

"I haven't seen or spoken to Remy in over a decade. That day at the warehouse, I did not recognize him, and I do not know if he knew me. It wasn't until later, in London, that I realized who Gambit was. I had wished to speak to him after Magneto destroyed the spider, but never got the chance. I remember him well enough to know when he acts out of compulsion rather than free-will. He does not relish bringing harm to others. If he is working for Magneto, it is not without reason."

Logan swallowed hard. Ororo spoke with such conviction that it was nearly impossible to argue with her. "It still don't mean he wouldn't have…"

A slender, sepia brown finger pressed against his lips as she raised her head once more. "He would not. Remy had a soft spot for women," she snickered. "Especially those in trouble. I would have been far more concerned with him stealing Rogue's heart than taking her life." She chuckled under her breath, but her lip quivered as she choked back another sob. "I can scarcely believe she's really dead, Logan."

Wolverine reached across his body to stroke her face with his free hand as she curled into his chest, both arms wrapped around his waist now. "I know, 'Ro," his voice cracked. "I know. I just wish we had answers."

Head still resting against his chest, Storm nodded. "Once Charles finds Gambit, I believe we will. I just pray that we can live with those answers once we know for sure." Outside, the storm quieted somewhat, but the rain did not relent its frenzied pace.

Logan swallowed hard, too overcome with his own emotion to even nod in agreement. Instead, he simply held his friend as she sniffled softly, their arms wrapped around each other in a comforting embrace.

~X~X~X~

A muted sniffle of emotion and cold echoed through the tiny lean-to as Rogue held an unconscious, feverish Cajun in her arms. He was still nestled against her breast, cuddled up like a small child as he rasped in the looming darkness. Despite her brief adoption of Beast's psyche, there was not much more that could be done for the Swamp Rat.

Despondent and miserable, Rogue stared blankly at the small fire, debating on whether she would let it die out. At least that way she could perish from the cold, alongside her declining companion.

It wasn't fair. Things had been going so well between them. They'd formed a friendship - a camaraderie - that felt stronger and more familiar than any other she'd previously cultivated. Not even her relationship with Logan was this intimate. Mentally, emotionally, and certainly not physically. Remy had become closer to her in every way possible, and her heart lurched from the implications of their complex connection. There was a good chance that their friendship could develop into something even deeper and more substantial given enough time. Yet, here he was, practically dying in her arms; he probably wouldn't live to see the light of day.

Rogue's hands moved in soothing patterns up and down Gambit's back; she had shifted him so his back was to the fire and she was keeping his body somewhat off the cold, hard ground. Within the oblivion of sickness, he had wrapped around her like a lover, legs entwined with hers, his arms still anchored around her waist. She blushed anew as Remy shifted once more, his leg rubbing up the inside of her thigh and liquifying her insides with the heat he created. He moaned in his sleep, shifting to grip her tighter as he shuddered violently, and she returned the squeeze with her own, nuzzling his hair as she rested her cheek on the top of his head.

She shushed him, hands caressing across his neck and back as she tried to soothe his discomfort. But his disquietude and pained shifting continued until she finally sighed and started singing, low and sweet.

"I never thought that you'd be the one to hold my heart." ****

Words of a song she'd heard repetitively from Kitty's playlist spilled from her lips, voice cracking with emotion as her eyes welled with new tears. Her roommate loved the Christina Perry song, making Rogue listen to it on multiple occasions - particularly every time the petite dancer rekindled her relationship with Lance.

"But you came around, and you knocked me off the ground from the start."

Her lips turned up in a tiny smile as she remembered her first encounter with Gambit, and the playing card he had left to detonate in her hand. It had quite literally knocked her off the ground. She also recalled the way their eyes had first met, and how he'd immediately captivated her with the intensity of his gaze. She frowned as she realized his eyes had been brown back then, however, and not this entrancing red on black she had come to know and …

With a moan, Remy's arms squeezed her waist before she could finish the thought. She made a note to ask him about it - if he lived - as he shifted a little more, groaning anew. She soothed him, making shushing noises as she rubbed up and down his back with slow, languid motions, and readjusted a cool, wet scrap of fabric laid on the back of his neck.

"You put your arms around me, and I believe that it's easier for you to let me go.

You put your arms around me and I'm home."

Remy made a soft, happy murmur as he laid along her shoulder, and she smiled a little as she resumed singing with a little more sweetness and steadiness to her voice.

"I hope that you see right through my walls.

I hope that you catch me, 'cause I'm already fallin'.

And I'll never let our love get so close.

You put your arms around me and I'm home."

She swallowed a lump in her throat as she closed her eyes and allowed all the emotion that had been building in her heart over the last few days to spill over. She hugged Remy tight, kissing the top of his head.

God help her, but every word of that song was true. She'd built up so many walls around her over the years that they had seemed impenetrable until now. Yet, he had somehow seen right through them, slowly breaking them down to let the real her shine through. She continued singing, feeling as if the words of the song truly were a reflection of her own connection to Remy LeBeau.

"I tried my best to never let you in to see the truth.

And I've never opened up - I've never truly loved til' you …

put your arms around me,

And I believe that it's easier for you to let me go.

You put your arms around me and I'm home."

Rogue knew it was silly, and unrequited, and absolutely only because they had been forced into such an intimate, co-dependent situation. Spending so much time with him, getting to know each other, connecting on such a deep, interpersonal level had practically assured her attraction to Gambit. Being able to touch him, his insistence in carrying her around, of caring for and ABOUT her, the way he saw right through her walls and her excuses… There was really no avoiding it. Her attraction to him was inevitable.

She allowed her thoughts to wander, the revelations brought on by a stupid, silly song overwhelming her. Rogue tried to convince herself that it would have ended the same way with Kurt, Logan, or Scott. Okay, she realized, those were bad examples. She shook the ideas, and imagery, from her mind. The concept of lying naked next to Logan, or Kurt, for warmth actually made her snort with amusement even as her stomach curdled.

Dealing with a naked Wolverine would have been awkward, but probably manageable. Well, he wouldn't have gotten sick in the first place, but it wouldn't have helped with their current issue with the rain and freezing temperatures. A shudder ran down her spine at the thought of Logan, whom she thought of as a father figure, undressing and cuddling with her so sensually. But at least she'd seen the older man naked before - at least in her head - and he WAS kind of attractive, if she was being honest. Best yet, she wasn't ACTUALLY related to him.

Rogue actually shook with barely contained laughter as she imagined holding her brother in her arms the way she was currently wrapped around Remy. Gawd, now THAT was a horrifying thought. Kurt's tail had a mind of its own under the best of circumstances, and her brother certainly did not have the fortitude to keep from using his powers while ill. At least he'd be warm with all that fur, though. And, right now, a fur coat did sound really damn good.

She shifted slightly as she stretched around Gambit's unconscious form and added a few more twigs to the fire, stoking it to burn a little brighter, warming their tiny shelter. Her eyes flicked to the top of the four foot wall she'd erected, the wooden logs barely holding their own weight against the jagged rock as rain trickled through the cracks. She knew the wall was different, that 'Beast' had changed it - fortified it somehow - but she hadn't been in control of her mind, or body, at the time.

Rogue didn't really know what all he'd done while she'd 'collected' herself, sequestered in the back of her own thoughts as she'd panicked over Remy's condition. The tiny fragment of Mr. McCoy that she'd pulled to the forefront of her mind had practically taken over, and she was just grateful he hadn't been as malicious or hard to manage as some of the other psyches she'd retained over the years. Actually, she was surprised that she'd even been able to pull out his psyche in the first place. Aside from errant memories and flashes, the fragments of those she'd absorbed had been relatively quiet since Apocalypse had messed with her head.

Flashes of her family and friends, her teammates both fresh and familiar, danced across her vision, lending her comfort yet making her more homesick than ever. She wondered what they were doing right now. Were they looking for her? Had they given up, or maybe they truly thought she was dead? Would they have continued searching for her and Gambit? She had no idea what condition everyone had been in when Apocalypse had taken her. She hadn't been conscious long enough to see anyone or anything after she'd awoken in that dark, musty cave. Aside from that wrinkled, decrepit hand that had grabbed her, and the echo of Logan's snarls, she remembered nothing.

Gambit had explained that her entire team, and the Acolytes, had converged to take on Apocalypse that day while trying to save her, but even the Cajun didn't know what condition everyone was in after the megalomutant had incapacitated them all. She hoped everyone was safe.

Moreover, she hoped they hadn't abandoned her.

Dry, cracked lips quivered in the flickering firelight as more tears dripped down Rogue's face and she sniffled. Despondency shifted into anger, and she poked harshly at the fire with her free hand. Where WERE they? Why the hell hadn't anyone come to find her yet?! Did anyone even CARE? Maybe Remy had been right. On their first day together, he had suggested that maybe the X-Men didn't want such a moody, vapid bitch on the team. That perhaps they didn't even miss her.

With a deep breath, she shook that thought away. No, even if she was waspish, or rude, or snarky, there were still those who cared about her. Who wouldn't have given up. Logan would fight with every ounce of his strength to bring her home. Kurt had taken the concept of being her brother to heart and was constantly looking out for her, and Kitty was her best friend. Hell, even Scott cared enough not to just give up.

She snorted, tears giving way to silent shudders of laughter as she imagined Cyclops in Gambit's place. Talk about awkward. With the X-Men's team leader being completely in love with Jean, all these little encounters she'd had with Remy would have been non-existent with Scott. In fact, aside from 'talking' she guessed nearly every intimate moment she'd shared with the Acolyte never would have transpired if she'd been stuck here with anyone BUT Remy.

Rogue sighed. Her thoughts were all over the place, and she knew it was partly due to her own exhaustion. But, she simply couldn't afford to sleep, so she ruminated on everything that had happened over the last few days instead. On their first day together, she'd considered how different things might have been if an X-Man had rescued her instead of Gambit, but so much had transpired since then.

Rogue reminisced on the way Remy had examined her broken ribs after her first Apocalypse-induced vision, of the way they'd splashed each other in the river, their 'dance' in the forest, how Gambit had insisted on her touching him and exploring his body, the massage he'd given her, and the way they'd fallen asleep together on the log. Memories that seemed like they'd occurred a lifetime ago instead of a day played in her mind. Her and Remy examining each other for ticks, of cuddling under tree branches for warmth, of him singing that French lullaby, and their mud-ball fight all danced across her mind in a kaleidoscope of thoughts and emotions.

Then there was that kiss - that tiny 'I might die' peck. "For luck" he'd said. It was harmless and inconsequential, and Jesus fuck did she want to do it again.

The recollection of his lips on hers, however briefly, set off a snowball of machinations in her mind that ended in an avalanche of imagined scenarios. But mostly, she wanted to kiss him. Badly.

Licking her lips for an entirely different reason, her breath quickened as she let herself imagine all the things she wanted to do with this man. Not just because of circumstance and forced proximity, but because, god-dammit, she was ACTUALLY falling for the guy. And she didn't have powers for the first time in four years. She could TOUCH, freely and openly, without harming him. Her mind swirled with possibilities as desire electrified her skin, warming her faster than the little fire ever could.

She imagined kissing him. REALLY kissing him, with hands wrapped in each other's hair and tongues dueling. Before she could stop herself, she was visualizing them naked and touching everywhere, with him pushing her up against the wall almost roughly. His hands trapping hers at her sides as he nipped and licked down her neck while she moaned and writhed beneath him. Intense need made her groin positively pulse in delicious agony. Remy would muscle his way between her thighs, letting her ride his bare leg with such vigor she thought she might orgasm right then and there.

Kissing her with renewed fervor, his red on black eyes bore into hers with such intensity that she whimpered, arms still trapped at her sides as her hips gyrated, wanting more. His fingers - good god those talented fingers - reached down to toy with her wet, eager opening, and she moaned loudly with unfulfilled want. She thrust against his hand and thigh to encourage him, and he complied, thumb brushing her oversensitive clitoris. When she was on the brink, panting heavily and cheeks flushed with such intense need she thought she would burst into flames, he stepped back, pulling away from her.

A wicked smile grew on his lips as he laughed at her impatience, and her low, loud whine of unfulfilled want. Fingers clawed desperately at the stone as she rubbed her thighs together, trying to mimic his previous stimulations. An amused chuckle reverberated through his body until he tipped his head back, cackling. She tried to push away from the wall, desire replaced with indignation, but her hands were still trapped at her sides and a tendril of fear made the hair on the back of her neck stand on end.

With a start Rogue realized that she was no longer awake and fantasizing, but that she'd fallen asleep in the midst of her lurid daydream.

Horror replaced desire as her friends were suddenly there, all kneeling before her, looks of shock and disgust on their faces, and she squeaked as she tried in vain to cover herself. But her hands wouldn't come free, even though Remy …

… Was no longer Remy.

Apocalypse was now standing before her, and she was helpless, immobilized against the wall, with no way of freeing herself, or fighting him. She knew she was dreaming, but the looks on her friends' faces brought tears to her eyes, and she twisted her hips, trying to cover the evidence of arousal that made her thighs glisten.

"What delicious dreams you were having my dear. Forgive me for intruding, but I am immensely glad to find you in such an amiable mood." Her eyes widened as Apocalypse brought his fingers, slick with her desire, to his mouth, sucking on them for a long moment.

Her stomach turned and she fought to break free of her invisible bonds. "Let me go! Get outta mah head!" She screamed, scrunching up her face in concentration as she tried to rouse herself from the vision. "REMY! Remy help me!"

Green irises flew open as she felt a hand across her mouth. She looked up to see red and black eyes staring intently at her, but his face lacked the warmth and familiarity of the real thing.

"Shh, shh, petite," he crooned in that same rich patois she'd come to cherish. Still, she knew him for what he was, and she kneed him hard in the groin when his free hand grasped her breast.

Apocalypse shifted into himself once more as he staggered backward, bent over in pain. Rogue sneered at the knowledge that she'd managed to hurt him, and she stared into the eyes of Wolverine, who was still on his knees in front of her. She willed him to come forward, realizing at once that these were the same psyches from her own mind, and that Apocalypse was using them to manipulate her. Well, two could play that game.

Instantly Wolverine had popped his claws and with two slices cut her hands free of the invisible, but tangible, bonds holding her against the wall. Apocalypse immediately advanced on her, but Rogue stood her ground as more of the fragments of the X-Men rallied to her side, using their powers to form a wall between her and the maniacal mutant.

"If that's how you wish this to end, then so be it." He raised a hand, and, one by one, each of Rogue's 'friends' collapsed on the floor, slowly turning to dust as he destroyed the psyches in her mind.

Screaming in pain, Rogue sank to her knees and grabbed her head. The psychic reverberations of him 'killing' those fragments was like a cartoon mallet crashing against the inside of her skull. In an instant he had vaporized Storm, Wolverine, Beast, the Professor, Jean, Cyclops, and all the others he had summoned.

Finally, there was but one shadow left standing between Rogue and Apocalypse, and she looked up at him, tears in her eyes as she gasped. "No," she whispered, breaths coming fast and hard as she tried to stand, tried to protect that tiny psychic residue of Remy LeBeau.

Even as cards flashed in his hand, Apocalypse picked Gambit up by the throat, holding him off the ground as the purple-eyed maniac stared down at Rogue.

"I understand you two have gotten rather close," Apocalypse sneered, his eyes flicking between Rogue and Gambit's psyche. "What a shame that the real thing is as good as dead. Once I destroy this one, you'll have nothing left of him, will you?"

Despite the intense desire to beg for 'Remy's' release, Rogue remained quiet as she kneeled before Apocalypse, covering and hugging herself tightly.

"Did you know that once the real Gambit dies, I can still resurrect him with this tiny piece of his mind that is trapped within yours?" Apocalypse's tone had changed from dangerous to soothing, as if coaxing her into a conversation.

Rogue's green irises flicked to Remy's. Even though he was merely a fragment, she recognized the look in his red eyes. It was still him. Tiny piece though he may be, the psyche was still every bit as much of Remy as the real thing.

"H-how?" she asked, voice catching as her chin quivered with emotion.

"I simply need to pull this psychic piece of him from your mind and put it in a new body. There is already a clone of him waiting, in fact. We would simply travel to where one of my servants is keeping it." Apocalypse's gaze and tone were steady, and Rogue's eyes widened as she tried to determine if he was lying or not.

"Believe me, or do not, but it is the truth. Although I had nothing to do with its creation, I can easily commandeer it for whatever use I wish."

Rogue's breath quickened as she considered the implication. Someone had made a CLONE of Remy? Who? And for what purpose?

"All will be revealed if you join me," Apocalypse crooned, slowly lowering Gambit's struggling psyche to the ground.

Grinding her teeth together and setting her jaw stubbornly, Rogue said nothing as she glared at him defiantly. A moment later, the fragment of Gambit cried out in pain and she held her face in her hands, sobbing, as she felt the reverberations of his 'death' in her mind. She scarcely had time to recover before Apocalypse had grabbed her by the throat and lifted her off the ground as well.

"Ya- ya may as well k-kill me," the X-Man gasped, fingers clawing at the hand wrapped around her neck as her lungs clawed for every breath. "Ah'll NEVER join you."

"Perhaps not willingly," Apocalypse's deep, gravelly voice was unamused as he stared into her eyes. "But you WILL be mine. Now," he demanded, free hand gripping the top of her head to force her to meet his gaze. "Show me where you're hiding."

Rogue tried to imagine being home in her bed, tried to visualize anything but Remy's dying body in her arms, and their tiny fire.

After a few moments, Apocalypse growled in frustration. "It seems I killed your psychic 'friends' in haste. You allowed one of them to take control. To build your shelter. You were not in control of your own thoughts. But make no mistake, my Queen, you will not be able to use the same trick now they are purged from your mind."

Rogue said nothing as the hand tightened on her throat and she stopped struggling. She understood now. He couldn't see except through HER eyes. Since she had let 'Beast' take the reins in her mind, Apocalypse did not know what she had done as Beast, or the particulars of their hiding place. Her lungs burned from lack of oxygen, and her vision blurred, but still she smiled. At least if he killed her, they wouldn't be discovered, and she wouldn't be alone. Her and Remy's bodies could remain together in death, forever lost to Apocalypse and the rest of the world.

With a noise of disgust, the ancient mutant threw her to the ground, glaring as she wheezed and coughed while air filled her lungs once more. "No matter," he feigned an air of casual indifference, watching Rogue slowly recover. "If you wish to save his miserable life, I will be waiting. You need only call for me. Do not delay though, my dear. I doubt he will survive much longer. He does not have a healing factor after all."

With that, Rogue's eyes opened, revealing the small alcove, her tiny fire, and the Cajun rasping in her arms. With deep, shuddering breaths, she swallowed around her bruised throat and clutched Gambit tighter in her arms, rocking and soothing both him, and herself.

~X~

Apocalypse rose from his chamber, incensed. The girl had eluded him once more, and despite the exquisite state of the dream he had discovered her in, he was furious with jealousy. She was growing closer to that meddlesome Acolyte, and although Gambit's declining health might be the catalyst he needed to get her to join him willingly, he had no guarantees that the girl's stubbornness wouldn't win out - even if her companion died.

In fact, it was very likely that if the boy died, his Queen would perish as well, either by her own hand, or from the frigid temperatures. He'd seen it in her thoughts. She was seriously contemplating letting their little fire burn out so she could freeze to death without qualm.

That certainly wouldn't do.

"Mesmero!" Apocalypse bellowed, rising from his chamber with some difficulty. The minion was lurking nearby in the shadows and immediately kneeled before Apocalypse. "Summon Hurricane," the slightly weakened megalomutant commanded. "Tell him to clear the skies and raise the temperature within a 50 mile radius."

"My - my lord," Mesmero sniveled, "I am not certain he is strong enough to…"

"He is a Dark Rider. He will do as commanded. If such a task kills him, then perhaps he is not strong enough to be part of my army."

"Y-yes, my lord," Mesmero nodded, rising quickly to obey his master's commands.

"Have the other Riders been procured yet?" Apocalypse asked as he turned to gaze at the large wall of petroglyphs behind him.

"A few have been discovered, but they are weak. Your followers are caring for them in a variety of secret locations. Others have not been found, or recovered, yet."

Nodding, the megalomutant's hands tensed behind his back as his gaze fell on the carved stone before him. "What of Ozymandias?"

"Nothing yet, my lord. Once the girl returns to you, we can use her to find him, and the others."

"Once I have the girl," Apocalypse growled, "there will be little need for the others. They will merely be fodder in my army. Are the other arrangements being made? In the event you FAIL me?" His tone was dark and menacing, and Mesmero trembled violently with fear.

"Y-yes, my lord. You only require enough power to run the machine for that."

Without removing his gaze from the delicately carved stone, Apocalypse growled low. "Then pray you find my new Queen immediately."

"Of course, Lord Apocalypse." With that, Mesmero scurried off, leaving his master to contemplate the images carved into the wall.

Once alone, Apocalypse ran his fingers along the profile of himself, as he lifted his arm to take the hand of another. A woman's image mirrored his as she reached for him. She was young and lithe, with a high ponytail and lines on her head that matched his own. Her ancient Egyptian clothing and jewelry showed her as his female counterpart as they reached for one another. A crack had formed between them, natural or intentional, forever dividing them on opposite sides of the wall.

With his weathered, decrepit hand, En Sabah Nur traced the woman's likeness, his face full of sorrow. His fingers traveled below her, where four terrifying creatures stood at the ready, all five of them encapsulated by a sort of circle. His First Horsemen. His children.

With clenched fist, he turned away from the carvings as he steeled himself to prepare for his new Queen, even as the words of his first rang in his ears. "Use what time we buy you to make this world into something that can stand against our enemy. Judge them, my love … Judge them. So that they - that you - become what we need. See that only the fittest remain." **

Several millenia had passed since last he had seen his beloved, but he had dedicated every waking moment to fulfilling her last wishes.

And this time, his new Queen would be the one to help him make those wishes a reality.

~X~X~X~

Rogue did not sleep again that night. Instead she watched her little fire die, icy tears drying on her cheeks as she waited for death to claim both her and Gambit. As he shivered, she couldn't help but cover him with a few of their dried clothes, however. But as the night wore on, silent and still, the storm dissipated almost as quickly as it came. Seemingly in spite of her wishes, the air warmed, even through the chill of the darkness and early morning hours. She sighed with both relief and disappointment. She'd promised the man in her arms that she wouldn't use that knife unless she was 'looking them in the eye,' but she'd rather hoped the cold would have done the job for her. She couldn't - wouldn't - do this without the Cajun by her side.

As the night crept on, gradually giving way to the blue-gray light of pre-dawn, Remy's condition did not improve, but neither did it decline. It didn't matter, though, she thought. She wasn't going to leave him, and she wasn't going to beg Apocalypse to save him, either. As much as she wanted to trade her life to save Gambit's, she knew that wasn't a fate she was willing to gamble. There was no telling how much damage Apocalypse could do once she was in his thrall.

Not to mention, Remy would be furious if she gave herself over to that madman after everything they'd been through to keep her AWAY from him. With a sigh Rogue dipped her chilled fingers in the little basin of water run-off she'd created, and frowned.

The water was WARM.

When she'd felt the pool last night, she'd thought it had been because she was experiencing frostbite. Now, however, she was much warmer, and though her fingers were still cold, there was no way she could attribute it to the current temperature outside.

Rogue grazed Remy's forehead for the umpteenth time. It was hard to tell for sure, but he seemed a LITTLE less feverish than he had last night. She shifted under his weight, her body stiff and sore from being pressed against the cold ground in nearly the same position for hours on end.

As she moved, she became aware of her body's OTHER needs, and she carefully moved Gambit off of her lap. He barely stirred as she readjusted him to lie on the soft, mossy dirt, then covered him with his mostly dried coat. She dipped a finger in the basin of water again, debating on whether she should drink it or not. Technically, they'd been sipping from it all night, and she hadn't gotten sick yet. But she didn't know if that was from sheer dumb luck, or because it had been mixed with rain water.

Cupping her hand, she brought a little to her mouth, swishing it around to see if she could detect a difference in the liquid. It had a slight 'mineral' taste, but otherwise seemed fine. It was definitely warm. Maybe only slightly more so than room temperature, but it was certainly not typical of the biting rain or frigid rivers they'd grown accustomed to. There wasn't enough light in the little shelter to see where the trickle was coming from, so Rogue felt along the tiny rivulets that seeped down the wall until her fingers traced a crack in the rock that made up the back 'ceiling' of the alcove.

Moving around was making her much more aware of the fact that she hadn't used the bathroom in at least 12 hours, however, and she abandoned her exploration to quickly put on her slightly damp dress and shimmy out of a gap she made in the shelter. She tried not to look up at the improvements 'Beast' had made to the wall, knowing that they may have to hide there until Remy had improved enough to be moved, or …

Well, it was best to just keep her eyes on the ground as much as possible.

She refused to examine the area around their shelter, but she knew there was a little hill above it. So she gathered a handful of twigs and set a bundle of three in a line every few feet, trying to guide her path back to their shelter as she journeyed out to find a suitable place to go to the bathroom. Once done, her stomach reminded her that she hadn't eaten in almost a day - if you could even consider worms and dandelions 'eating'.

It was still mostly dark, with small strips of pinks and purples on the horizon outlining an inky blue sky. Without examining too much of the landscape, Rogue decided to make her way to the top of the hill that hid their little alcove. She continued using the sticks to guide her path, not trusting herself to use landmarks that would help Apocalypse find them. Sticks could be removed when she went back to Remy in their shelter, too.

It was a short hike to the top of the hill, and she managed to find a few clusters of blueberries along the way, but they had mostly been stripped clean by some kind of animal. She popped a few in her mouth, but left most of them on the bush to collect on her way back to Gambit since she did not have pockets to carry them.

She was more excited to find several clumps of 3-foot flowers with their tiny white flowers and fern-like leaves. Yarrow. One of the first natural remedies Ororo and Logan had taught them about during their survivalist 'boot-camp'. Yarrow was used for bleeding and wounds. It was one of the best, and well-known natural remedies. With a wide grin, she gathered up handfuls of the flower's soft, feathery leaves. A nearby tree with several claw marks running down the bark served as a landmark where she could safely store her treasures for the time being. At this rate, she was going to have to use her dress to carry everything on her way back down the hill.

Heartened by her discoveries, she continued trekking up the mildly strenuous slope, her golden sandals slipping on fresh mud as she traversed closer to the top. Her nose tickled with a sharp, almost acrid smell as she crested the hill, and her eyes watered as she gazed across an almost swampy marsh of bulbous white flowers. They were similar to the ones she'd hidden in just yesterday, but were much shorter and the buds more rounded. Her eyes watered as she held her nose, and she finally realized why the odor was so familiar.

Onions.

Rogue dug her hands through the soft dirt and mud, pulling up dozens of small, bulbous onions at a time. Within 5 minutes, she had probably hundreds of them in various shapes and sizes. She stood, panting from her efforts as she examined the vegetables and their stalks, wondering how she could get them all back to their shelter.

For once she was able to use some of her own experiences for reference as she recalled a conversation between her, Ororo, and Kitty when she and the younger girl had been sick with some kind of stomach bug. The weather witch had plopped half an onion in front of each of them and explained how it was one of the best 'cures' for digestive issues. Rogue had shrugged, but tried it, while Kitty had turned up her nose at the odiferous vegetable. Kitty had scoffed at her and wondered why she didn't just absorb Wolverine's healing ability, but it had been shortly after the 'Risty/Mystique' debacle, and the southerner hadn't wanted to deal with more chaos in her brain.

The onion had worked wonders for her upset stomach. If she could get Remy to wake up long enough to eat them, they might help ease some of his stomach issues as well. Her nose twitched as she debated on how she was going to carry everything, and she spent a few minutes breaking off the ends of the stems with the large white flowers. The bulbs themselves were still muddy and dirty, though, and she knew she'd need to wash them off before they could be consumed, so she looked around for the source of the water that had made the terrain so soft.

With a quick glance around, she found a tiny stream and dipped her hand into it, surprised to find it was warm. A smile grew on her face as she followed the trickle up toward the base of the mountain, laying her stick path all the while.

The purple and blue hues of the dark sky had lightened into pinks and oranges when she discovered a small pond of water partially obscured behind some boulders. The sheer, rocky face of the mountainside protected it on one side as water streamed down into the pond from above in a tiny waterfall. A few ducks were swimming in the water, and Rogue held her breath as a mother deer and her fawn drank from the base near the waterfall before prancing away.

The southerner watched the wild animals enjoying the pond for a moment before she crept forward to one of the rocky ledges and bent down to test the water with her fingers. She gasped at the heavenly warmth of the water, a huge smile breaking out across her face.

Hot water.

It was a natural hot spring, she realized, and Rogue was suddenly very aware of how cold she was in that pre-dawn light, and could think of nothing better than soaking in it. Hot water called for a BATH, and despite the sickly Cajun who was lying unconscious in their shelter, Rogue decided to take advantage of his absence and sooth her own aching, cold, and tired body.

In less than 30 seconds, she had stripped out of the barely tied dress, her shoes, and Remy's socks. It took her more time to adjust to the heated pool, especially because of how badly it stung her still frozen feet. Rogue bit her lip as she sat on a rock and put one heel in the water, examining her toes. They were red and shiny, and definitely suffering from the first stages of frostbite. She spent quite some time adjusting to the heat of the water before gingerly stepping into it.

The pool was nearly waist deep, and definitely warm, though maybe not to the degree she preferred her showers. Regardless, it felt HEAVENLY on her chilled skin, and she fully submerged herself, holding her breath as she let the warm water completely envelop her. With a heavy sigh, she closed her eyes and let herself just float, letting the temperature soothe her body and soul.

After floating and soaking in the hot spring for a while, Rogue's mind started to wander once more and she swallowed hard as she thought of Remy and their predicament. He'd seemed to be slightly less feverish when she'd left him, but he was far too weak to go traipsing through the forest, and she wasn't exactly in a state to carry him. Her chest was still throbbing from trying to do so yesterday, and though the hot water felt amazing on her skin, it actually exacerbated the inflammation of her broken ribs.

It would have been so much simpler if they'd both just frozen to death last night.

But, truth be told, she didn't WANT to die. She wanted to be safe. She wanted to be home. She wanted to be rescued, god dammit. Anger welled in her throat as she battled her own despair and loneliness, and she remembered Apocalypse's promise to deliver her from this hell.

Closing her eyes, she let rage overwhelm her emotions, allowing it to build and boil beneath the surface like the hot water she was standing in, burning out whatever weakness she was trying to overcome. Finally, as her nails dug into her fists, she screamed out, as loud as she could.

"FUCK YOU, YOU SON OF A BITCH!"

A deep, shuddering sob followed her outburst, and Rogue sank to her knees, the water up to her neck as she covered her mouth and tears leaked from her eyes. For the first time since she'd woken up in that godforsaken temple, since the moment Remy had explained what Apocalypse really wanted with her, she allowed herself to truly absorb and process all of it.

Jesus Christ, everything was so screwed up. Deep, wracking sobs shook her whole body as fear and anguish overpowered her will to stay strong and resolved. Nothing made sense any more. She had always hated her powers and the way they isolated her, but right now she wished she had never even been born. This was all too much. Being coveted and pursued by a madman bent on world domination and destruction, running for their lives through a temperate forest, all the little maladies, and lack of nutrition and decent sleep, and now Remy sick and possibly dying.

She couldn't… She didn't…

Rogue wept until the sun had fully emerged from the horizon, hardly caring how loud she was as the sounds of her desperation echoed off the rocky mountainside into the valley below.

"C-callin' all an-gels, callin' a-ll angels," her muffled hiccoughs of choked sobs breaking up her prayer-song. "Walk m-me through th-is one. D-don't leave me … alone …"

"Oh, Rogue," a heavy, gravelly lilt broke through the sounds of her despair. "I'd never leave you alone, ma chère."

With a gasp, Rogue launched to her feet, terror reflecting in her bright green eyes as she backed away from a nearly nude Remy as he stood at the edge of the pool in just his boxers and shoes. Paying no mind to his footwear, he gingerly stepped into the water, walking toward her.

"S-stay away from me!" She looked around, desperate, for a chance to escape from Apocalypse. It had to be him. She'd taunted him with her curses, and now he was here, trying to trick her again. Her only consolation was that Remy was too sickly to interfere and get himself killed. But she was trapped. The boulders behind her were too steep to climb quickly enough, and Apocalypse - still looking like the Cajun - was blocking her only real exit.

"Rogue?" Remy's brows knitted together in confusion, his face pale but concerned. "C'est moi, petite."

"No!" she yelled, covering her ears as she stared at him, wild-eyed. She was too terrified to even conceal her nudity, and she backed up as he advanced. "Ah ain't fallin' for it! You're j-just tryin' ta trick me again!" More tears cascaded down her cheeks as she stared into those red and black eyes.

Remy held out his hand as if trying to gentle a colt. "Chère, vraiment, it's ME. Je te promets." He inched closer, watching with concern as she took another step away and slipped on the uneven stones. She would have fallen backward into the sharp, rocky side of the mountain, but Remy reached her first, grabbing her hand and pulling her upright.

"L-let go a' me!" Rogue cried weakly, pushing against his chest with her free hand. He didn't release the one he had captured with his own, but he made no other move to touch or coerce her.

"Rogue, shh! It's me. Yer screamin' woke me up, scared me half t' death, for true. I followed yer path of sticks - very clever, petite." He smiled weakly and coughed. "Though, if you weren't in trouble, mebbe you coulda saved poor Remy de climb, eh?"

"W-what climb?" she asked nervously, her face mere inches from his. If she could get him to slip, catch him in a lie somehow…

He stared at her incredulously. "De HILL. De one dat leads from de shelter you built to dis here hot spring."

"If you climbed it, what'd ya find?" She narrowed her eyes even though she still hadn't pulled her hands away from his grip, or his bare chest. She didn't dare drop her guard, yet she couldn't help but hope…

"You mean de berry bushes, or de onions ya dug up?"

There was no way Apocalypse could have read her mind while she was awake, and he certainly wouldn't have trekked up that muddy, semi-steep hill. So the maniac couldn't have known about the blueberries, OR the onions, which meant…

"Oh mah gawd, Remy! Ah thought - Ah thought you were …" All at once, she exhaled in a relieved sob and threw her arms around him, face buried in his sweat-streaked chest.

"Apocalypse?" he supplied weakly, even as he slung his own arms around her waist, returning the embrace she so desperately needed.

"Ah thought you were gonna die!" She pulled back abruptly and smacked him on the shoulder, albeit rather gently. "Don't you EVER do that ta me AGAIN, ya hear me!?"

He chuckled in response, pulling her against him once more. "So you keep tellin' me dat."

"Ah MEAN it, Cajun!" she seethed, resisting the urge to pummel him even as she kept her hands on his chest. After all, he still looked pale and weak, and that hike couldn't have done him any good. "Ah stayed awake nearly all night tryin' ta keep you warm; keep ya from dyin'!"

"I know, I know," Remy replied, his voice strained. He kissed her hair tenderly. "Merci, chère. Surely woulda died wit'out you. You took care a' Remy real good. Saw you built a fire and a little water basin an' everythin'. De Wolverine'd be proud."

He smiled down at her, but his eyes lacked their usual boyish charm, and she reached up to touch his forehead. "Your still feverin', Cajun," she tutted, taking a moment to brush his unruly hair away from his eyes.

"Ain't sure I'm not still dreamin," he admitted, his red eyes flashing as he finally took a moment to appreciate her lovely form. "Dieu, you're beautiful, chèrie." His smile grew as Rogue's face, neck, and shoulders colored vividly, and she swallowed hard, moving one hand to cover her bare chest. Her breathing was rapid, but this time it wasn't in fear. Gambit could sense the sudden bout of lust and nervousness rolling off her in waves, and it fueled his own desire.

"R-Remy," she whispered. Her voice caught in her throat, a butterfly in a spider's web, but this time neither of them were able to think beyond the sensations that were swirling between them.

Gambit's hand caressed Rogue's waist, pulling her bare body flush against his. She made the tiniest little moan in response, and it was like a spike of electricity straight to his groin. His nose nuzzled her hair sensually, and his lips ghosted along her hairline, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. His right hand sparked along the bare skin of her spine, while his left held hers captive to his chest. The nails of her other hand raked across his hip, and he sucked in a groan, mouth still breathing kisses into her hair. When he felt her shift into him ever so slightly, increasing the pressure of his boxer clad erection against her exposed groin, his fever fogged brain lost all sense of composure and decorum.

With both hands, he cupped her face and kissed her, mouth greedy with the combination of their lust and desire. He nipped at her lower lip, begging for access as she put both hands on his chest. With little hesitation she complied, and for a moment their tongues dueled, frantic and passionate. Right hand anchored behind her head, his left wandered, traveling down her spine once more before slowly reaching forward to grasp her…

All at once, Rogue pulled back and slapped him across the face with as much gusto as she could mutter. "You slimy, sneaky, son of a …"

"W-what?!" He whined, a gasp of surprise ripped from his swollen lips as she pushed him - hard - into the shallow pool.

Without another word, she stalked out of the hot springs, grabbing her dress, shoes, and socks along the way as she yelled over her shoulder. "Grab those onions on your way back down - AFTER you've cooled off!"

He couldn't quite make out the rest of her curses as she stalked away from him, barefoot and naked, but he flopped back into the water with a frustrated sigh.

~X~

Remy didn't stay in the hot spring for long, still worked up from their exchange or not. Fever-dream not withstanding, he'd pushed her too far, too fast, and he needed to apologize. She'd been worried about him, and he'd taken advantage of her distress.

There was no doubt he'd read her cues correctly - those little moans and undulations weren't the product of FEAR, after all. But he hadn't been thinking straight, still wasn't, really, he thought, rubbing his temples despite the heavy bundle of onions he was carrying in his arms.

Merde, but his head hurt. As he fumbled down the hill, trailing after her bare footprints in the muddy ground, he rather wished he'd just stayed asleep. But her earlier screams had truly scared him more than anything he could currently remember. The intensity and emotion of those shrieks, unintelligible though her words had been, had him up and crashing through her carefully erected shelter in mere seconds.

He was honestly surprised that he'd managed to stay conscious as he climbed that hill, following the sounds of her sobs. Head swimming and vision blurring, he hadn't known what he planned to do if she was under attack, and he had nearly caught up with her when he realized he didn't have his broken bo staff, cards, or any weapons whatsoever.

Thank God she had been alone, and relatively unharmed, save from the intense emotional torment he had felt crashing over her like a tsunami. And when she started singing? Those desperate, barely understandable words stuttered out in a pleading prayer…

It had broken his heart to know how much she was hurting. He'd reacted instinctively, trying to assuage her loneliness and despair, but he hadn't expected her to react so negatively to his presence. It took him a few minutes to realize why she was so afraid of him, and thankfully she'd had a better sense of reason and logic than he had with his pounding, feverish brain.

But he still had to apologize. He'd allowed himself to be swept up in the highly emotional and supercharged situation and hadn't asked how she felt. And sickly or not, Remy knew better than to go where he wasn't invited *. Regardless of whether he'd felt the same emotions crashing over her, he'd gotten carried away.

He just hoped she wasn't too mad at him. Maybe he could get some sympathy points for how poorly he was still feeling. The climb up the hill had indeed been brutal in his sickly and weakened state, and he wanted nothing more than to climb back into that nifty shelter she'd built and go back to sleep. Although, he doubted she'd still let him use her as a pillow.

If he was lucky, she MIGHT sing him to sleep again. He wasn't sure if he'd dreamed it or not, but he vaguely recalled her singing and stroking his hair, and despite his dire state, he'd felt inexplicably comfortable.

Remy groaned as he grabbed a handful of the onions Rogue had left behind. He couldn't see her on the path down the hill, but it wasn't really a straight climb, either. She'd picked up her bundles of directional twigs, too, so she wasn't exactly easy to follow, but at least her footprints were clearly defined in the mud.

The berry bushes would be just a short walk from here if he recalled correctly, and although they had LOOKED slightly appetizing, there was no way he was going to touch them without Rogue's approval first. He chuckled lightly even as his stomach turned a tiny bit. Good lord but he was never going to hear the end of it from her. White berries and Remy's definition of 'edible' would become an inside joke for them for years to come.

The thought sobered him. There would be no 'years' for them. He still had his contract with Magneto, which wasn't due to expire for a good long while. If he broke it, there would be consequences. Remy would have to pay the piper, and he really, REALLY didn't want to go back to that. He didn't necessarily enjoy working for Magneto, but it was a far cry better than the servitude he'd escaped from by taking that contract. Remy hadn't been lying to Rogue when he claimed the leader of the Acolytes wasn't so bad. The Master of Magnetism may be blackmailing or bribing several of his followers - Remy included - but at least he'd offered Remy his protection against other, WORSE, monsters.

As he ruminated on the monsters that haunted his dreams - his own personal boogie man - a tremendous roar echoed off the mountainside and hill, surrounding him. His first thought, still fever-fogged as he was, had tried to rectify what kind of animal it was. The second thought was on how close it sounded, and the third…

Rogue.

Dropping his pile of onions, Remy crashed down the side of the hill, slipping and sliding the whole way. His usual coordination and grace was heavily inhibited by his weakened state, but it still only took him a minute to reach the berry bushes.

His breath caught as he took in the sight before him.

Not 15 feet in front of him was a bear - the biggest damn bear he'd ever seen - with shaggy brown fur and a hump on its back. Its nose was bumping against something on the ground as it huffed and grunted in what could only be described as 'angry noises'. Whatever it was inspecting was partially obscured by its massive body as it stood over the lump.

Mon Dieu.

"ROGUE!" Remy bellowed, all rational thought completely fleeing his fried brain as he rushed toward the grizzly, barely stopping to grab a stick off the ground as he hurled himself at the beast. It took every ounce of his concentration to NOT call on his powers and charge up the impromptu weapon. With a crack, the Cajun landed the first blow across the creature's haunches. The only result, however, was shattering the stick and further incensing the animal.

The bear stood on its hind legs, raising up to a nearly 10 foot height, and roared. Without missing a beat, Remy whirled around behind the bear, forcing it to shift its mass away from Rogue, who was still curled on the ground, unmoving.

"Allez! (Come on) Come get Remy tu putain d'ours!" (you damn bear) he taunted, twirling the tiny bit of stick that was left in his hand. As predicted, the bear came back down on all fours, but had moved away from Rogue just enough so its massive paws didn't crush her as it did so. "Come try some nice tasty Gumbo, m'sieur!"

Unbeknownst to Remy, Rogue's eyes were wide open as she watched him take on the Grizzly Bear in an attempt to save her. Goddamn suicidal Cajun. Hadn't he been through enough on her behalf? His attempts were quickly rewarded, however, as the animal completely forgot about the girl playing dead on the ground, and instead went after Gambit.

As soon as the bear moved far enough away from her, Rogue vaulted to her feet - clad once more in her dress, shoes, and socks - and ran for the nearest tree. The movement caught the animal's attention, however, and it roared anew, turning back toward the girl.

Rogue turned her head just in time to see Remy take a flying leap, landing as hard of a punch on the creature's nose as possible. Rather than running off, the grizzly reacted almost reflexively, and took a swipe at the young man before he could maneuver himself out of reach.

"AGH!" The Cajun shouted in pain even as he vaulted backwards and darted up a nearby tree. Rogue couldn't see Gambit very well, but could tell he was favoring his left arm by the way he had pulled himself up the branches. Clearly, her companion thought he was safe in the thin paper birch, but the bear was in hot pursuit and immediately started trying to climb up after him.

The X-Man looked around, trying to find some kind of weapon, but Remy's pocket knife and broken bow staff were both still in their shelter somewhere below their current location. In fact, Rogue was currently standing right above the 20 foot overhang. She only had to move about ten feet south and she would step right off the small cliff where a few thin trees were hanging over it.

Perfect.

"Hey ugly! Over here!"" Rogue darted out from behind the pine tree where she'd hidden herself and hurled a baseball sized rock at the bear, who was half-climbing, half-collapsing the thin tree Gambit had taken shelter in. The rock pelted the massive animal in the back of the head, and it turned, sliding down the tree as it roared with renewed rage.

In an instant the grizzly was focused solely on the young woman, who sneered even though her heart was racing. "That's it," she cried, holding out her other hand to beckon it forth. "Nice and tasty! Come and get some!" She threw a few more rocks that were obscured in her other hand, pegging the creature in the face. It shook its head and roared before tearing off after the girl.

"Rogue, NO!" Remy cried from about 15 feet up the tree. He was already trying to climb down to stop her, but his back and left arm was bleeding freely and he was unable to move quickly enough to be of much help.

Rogue was already sprinting away, however, headed for the clump of trees where she'd just been hiding. She'd had a good 40 or 50 foot head start, but the animal was much faster than its size belied, and was rapidly gaining on her.

Remy half-jumped, half-fell the last few feet down the tree he'd been in and was just able to make out Rogue's black dress, and the lumbering, dark form of the bear as it pursued her. From the corner of his eye, he saw the unassuming edge of the cliff and his heart nearly stopped.

"Rogue, cliff! STOP!" he screamed out a warning, all the while running towards her as fast as he could in his soggy boots while blood oozed down his arm and back. But the girl kept running, her eyes never leaving their target. The bear was nearly upon her when she pushed off the edge of the earthen cliff face, leaping into the air with both hands outstretched.

Remy gasped, all breath and thought leaving him until the moment her fingers gripped an overhanging branch and she somersaulted forward like a gymnast on a high bar. The bear wasn't so lucky, however, and it tumbled off the edge with a strangled growl of surprise, unable to stop its momentum in time. Oxygen left the Cajun's lungs in a relieved whoosh as Rogue lay on her stomach on top of the branch and turned to grin widely at him.

As Remy resumed walking the last 15 feet, she moved to straddle the branch, Cheekily, she called out to him, her tone full of breathless exuberance.

"See Swamp Rat! Told ya I'm full of surpr - AAH!" The branch she'd been laying on suddenly broke without warning, and the girl disappeared over the side of the cliff with a strangled scream.

"Rogue!"

Remy sprinted the last few feet to the edge and peered down, only to see a black lump lying motionless on the ground just outside the shelter.

~X~X~X~X~X~

MWAHAHAHA! I feel like I haven't written a good cliffhanger in YEARS! Wow, I feel positively EVIL! Especially since I haven't even started on the next chapter yet.

Dastardly cliffhangers aside, PLEASE let me know what you think of this installment! I pumped out probably 25-30 pages in less than a week because it was just so GOOD (IMO). There is so much character development for Rogue in this chapter, and although there's a ton of M-rated stuff, I don't think it ever goes TOO far over the top. Maybe here and there, but not like it's going to get later on.

Plus, it was so fun being able to make Rogue the heroine for once. She faces her fears of her powers and willingly allows a psyche to take over for her in the hopes of saving Gambit. Major personal growth if I do say so myself. And the tender, touching way she 'grieves' for Remy and the things she's lost because of her powers all push that needle a little farther away from Apocalypse's end game.

This is definitely a chapter that readers who only subscribe to the "T" rating on FFN will probably miss the little nuances of Rogue's personal growth, just because so much of it is tied to the physical aspect of her wishes and daydreams. Allowing herself to fully appreciate (and immerse herself) in the fantasies and her wishes for the future is a vital part of how she grows as a person/character, and it also directly affects the way she views Remy and their budding romance. And it sets the stage for her future choices as well.

Many thanks again to AJ for being a great cheerleader, friend, and beta!

Lots of easter eggs in this one! If you have ideas of how I can annotate this in the future (or if I even SHOULD), I'd love to get suggestions.

* charcoal idea credited to DragonMoon

** "Calling All Angels" by Jane Siberry (with K.D. Lang). Check it out on youtube watch?v=KRUErh47sao From the movie "Pay it Forward"

*** Taking liberties with the Gambit/Storm canon. Yet again, AJ to the rescue. Girl, you are the BEST! She took my ideas and literally mapped out how the ages worked for everyone, then came up with a more plausible explanation for what I wanted to accomplish. We make a pretty kick-ass team if I do say so!
(Side note: For those who haven't read the comics, at one point Storm was de-aged to a young teenager by Nanny. Gambit found and rescued her when they were trying to steal the same thing. )

* The concept of Storm and Gambit having a 'brother and sister' connection is a nod to Ava DAlain's Voodoo Blues story arc, and its many amazing short fic sequels. Seriously one of my favorite fics out there.

**** From Christina Perry's "Arms" (PERFECT ROMY song, btw)

* This section is all thanks to AJ! She sent me tons of PMs and suggested making Apocalypse and his motivations a bit more two-dimensional, and while I didn't want to draw out the story any longer (or make a villain I HATE seem sympathetic), I couldn't let it lie. She helped me a ton with this section as I know next to nothing about Apocalypse other than from the animated series and what he did to Rogue on Krakoa during the X-Caliber issues.

** X-Men Vol. 5, issue 13

* Nod to X-Men the Animated Series episode - "Gambit don't never go where he ain't invited*

NEXT CHAPTER:

1. Cliffhanger!

2. Kurt forgives

3. Betsy's 'goodbye' & Jean's Revelations

4. Broken and Bloody

5. Lance v. Scott; Kitty/Lance

6. Disappearing Act

7. Working with the Enemy

8. Dream's End

9. Where There's Smoke...

10. Precipice of Disaster