Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

PROLOGUE

1. Ororo Munroe runs into an old friend

2. Ororo suggests an addition to the team

3. The team checks in with their new recruit

4. Ororo issues a mild warning

5. Professor Xavier receives a message

6. The team discusses another potential new member

7. Remy makes a discovery

8. And has to go to the infirmary

Chapter Text

CHAPTER 2: CRASH

Remy heard crashes that sounded like thunder, and he looked at the entrance to the danger room. He was surprised that he could even hear, but then he remembered there was a small monitor, complete with control panel, nearby. Probably for emergencies, or maybe for incoming team members to have a heads up before they joined the fight. 

For him, it looked a lot like a way to have some extra fun. 

He'd done as many training sessions as possible, but it turned out that a lot of being part of the X-Men meant talking strategy, teaching, and following PowerPoint presentations that Summers seemed to think were gripping because things occasionally spun around before going to the next slide. Remy could use something that sounded as unhinged as this did. 

Remy made quick work of the locking mechanism, and when he entered, the room around him looked like the end of the world. Sentinels marched around, seeming to grasp for something, occasionally crashing to the ground or breaking apart due to some unseen force. 

Whoever was in here was clearly a beast, because he saw a leg tear away from one of the sentinels like it was a banana peel and crash into it like a baseball bat. 

Smaller robots began to notice him, a sentinel reached down to grab at him, and he dove into the fray. 

He sent a charged card at the nearest behemoth, just a small love tap, and it turned to stomp in his direction. 

He sent a barrage of cards its way this time, watching contentedly as the explosions went off and the behemoth fell. 

Behind it, another sentinel took its place, or tried to, but then it was yanked back, soaring away. 

Who the hell was he fighting alongside?

He looked around again and finally caught a glimpse of the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Was he hallucinating?

He'd seen a lot of beautiful women. A lot of fiery, skilled, vicious women. He'd even married one. 

But this one, with her messy head of auburn hair, complete with a white skunk stripe, her petite frame, and apparently enough strength to move mountains was a different breed altogether. 

For the life of him, he couldn't say why. Maybe it was that she seemed almost feral, seemed to be powered by fury as each sentinel tried to pummel her as she flew around, dodging deftly. At times, she looked almost offended that they would come after her. At other times, her technique seemed almost playful, not unlike his own, in some respects. 

At one point, a sentinel slammed her against a wall, and he almost felt sorry for it as she tore it to shreds. 

Dieu. Who the hell is that?

Smoke billowed around her, the air filled with the sounds of exploding machinery, crackling flames, creaking metal. Sentinels stomped around her, reaching for her, grasping nothing when she flitted away. 

I could get used to this. 

Rogue didn't feel that way often, but nothing cheered her like a good fight. In battle, life was reduced to flight and pummeling fists, and her head temporarily quieted, something seeming to finally fit into place. 

Battle hadn't always been this way. She hadn't always had the sky at her disposal, her body hadn't always been so impervious to danger, her fists hadn't always been battering rams. She couldn't always move mountains. 

But she had always been a thief. 

Her powers stole from people. Their minds, ideas, memories, powers. Sometimes even their lives. 

She thought greedily of her newer powers, how strong they made her feel, how much safer she was inside and out. Just as quickly, there was the usual wave of guilt. She shouldn't enjoy them or want to keep them. They shouldn't be hers. But they were hers. 

Her life would always be that way, probably. Riding on coattails, living through other people's eyes. She was doomed herself, but she could always have a small taste. It would have to be enough. 

A large arm swung at her, and she was just distracted enough that it hit home. She went flying into the wall, crashed against it again when a large fist slammed into her. 

"Fuck!"

When the arm pulled back, she peeled herself from the wall, flying fist first into the robot's chest and out the other side. 

"Ain't so fun to be on the receivin' end, is it, sugar?"

She ripped an arm off the nearest sentinel, beating it with the arm until it fell. 

They never seemed to stop coming. 

Some smaller robots also chased her, shooting at her, ramming into her from the floor. 

She ripped one's torso away, and then she heard a loud explosion behind her. 

It was different from the other sounds, though she couldn't have said how. 

She turned to see a man in a trenchcoat jumping around, throwing things that exploded once they hit their mark. 

She felt her blood pressure rising. 

Who the hell is that?

He looked a bit like an acrobat, was almost graceful despite the damage he was doing. 

Was he part of the simulation? Or had some asshole decided to crash her damn session?

He looked in her direction, and she started. 

His eyes were black, with glowing red irises. There was something mesmerizing about them. 

The man's face was smug, his expression one that said he knew he was attractive and was used to being fawned over. 

Unfortunately for you, sugar, I ain't one for fawnin'.

His unique eyes suddenly widened. 

"Chere, look out!"

Huh?

The next instant, a sentinel's foot covered her, stomping her against the floor and holding her there. 

She growled, fighting against it, had just about moved enough to grip the thing when a loud explosion shook the room. 

The foot released her, and the sentinel fell away. 

What the hell?

She jumped up, taking to the air, her eyes darting around. 

There he is. 

She grabbed half a robot and swooped toward the man, launching the gnarled piece of metal and wires at him. 

"I'm s'posed to be doin' this myself!"

The man sidestepped the projectile, smiling brilliantly and continuing to throw… were those playing cards?

"Maybe. But you're welcome all the same, petite."

"I wasn't thankin' you! They're testin' my powers."

"Think you passed by now, non?"

"Don't matter what you think. It's a closed session."

"Not anymore, ma chérie."

With that, the fucker bounded away. 

"My card, mon ami!" she heard him toss out, rather jovially, at a sentinel. 

It was followed by a loud explosion. 

She groaned, giving up and returning to the fight. 

Maybe part of the simulation would at least knock the asshole out. 

Remy hadn't had this much fun in a while. He'd have to ask Stormy what this simulation was called. 

Not to mention what the femme who had freshly stolen his heart was called. 

A large hand reached to snatch him up, and he dove away, though he realized too late that he had made a tactical error. 

Shit.

This was gonna hurt. 

Another large fist was a hair's breadth away from slamming down on him when a freight train hit him from the side. 

This freight train had wild auburn hair, a skunk stripe, and enough rage to power the planet. 

They skidded along the floor, her on top of him, and by the time they slowed to a stop, everything around them had frozen. 

They were both breathing heavily, and he looked up into a pair of breathtaking—albeit murderous—green eyes. She was even more stunning up close. 

Sacre coeur.

Was she even real?

"Are you kiddin' me?" she spat. 

Non. I am not. 

He reached up, gripping her hair and tugging her down to him for a passionate kiss. 

Remy (the recent past)

Remy LeBeau felt like he had always been on the run. In a way, he had. He had never truly had a place to call his own, a place that was home, where he could safely stay and lock the door behind him. Even as a child, he worked and slept and played on the streets of New Orleans, and he hadn't had a regular bed to sleep in until a fortuitous mistake transformed his life. 

Since then, his life had changed drastically many times over. He had been a veritable prince, an—admittedly lacking—husband, a pawn, and an exile. He was a fugitive, a nomad, a talented hired gun. He had never truly lived for himself, probably never would. Though he was fine with that. 

Once a thief, always a thief. 

Nothing would ever be his own. 

That didn't mean that he hadn't tried to nail things down. He liked to think he had made a name for himself in some ways, had eked out some respect in addition to the vitriol often flung in his direction. He made friends, developed connections, had skills most couldn't hope to attain, even without considering his mutant powers, which were nothing to sniff at. 

He was only even in a rough spot now because… well, he had learned a valuable lesson, if nothing else. But he needed to lay low for a long while as a result, would probably still be doing so if not for a run-in with an old friend. 

It was laughable, really, that he was heading to Westchester to join Ororo, to be part of a team of mutant do-gooders. To teach children, of all things. He had declined a few times, was only going now because Ororo had hounded him. 

He knew it would only be a short stint anyway. 

There was no way he would fit. No one would trust him, and he certainly wouldn't mesh well with people who probably carefully recycled and ran soup kitchens during their breaks from fighting crime. He would definitely be a bad influence on the students, though he might enjoy that part. 

A wiser man might have continued to refuse Ororo's offer, but it would be a place to sleep, three square meals a day. And that was tempting for someone who never knew where he was headed. 

Remy was probably a little too proud, but he hadn't had to stay at a single hotel on the way to Westchester. 

Plenty of people were looking for company, and he was never one to say no. 

His whole life, people had stared at him unabashedly, like he made their mouths water. And when he turned on the charm, nine times out of ten, they melted. 

And since puberty, he had fucked anyone who struck his fancy. He was good at it, too, and it felt wonderful every time. 

Tonight he was with a blonde woman who looked not unlike his wife Belladonna. She had enormous tits that she could practically rest her chin on, a tight ass, a tight, wet pussy. A mouth that was sexy as hell. 

He bent her over her bathroom counter, and she moaned and screamed like a pornstar. He could see in the mirror that her eyes were crossed, as though he felt so good inside her that her mind had broken. 

Did he believe that? No. Did it matter? No. 

He pounded harder into her, and she moaned loudly. 

"Yes, baby! Fuck me harder! Yes yes yes yes yes. Oh my God. Yes!"

Why did he feel like rolling his eyes? Like he just wanted to come and get out. 

"Fuck. You're so fucking big. You're gonna tear me in half!"

She screamed again. 

Alright, chere. I get it. 

"Yes! Harder!"

At least she felt incredible. 

He tugged her up by her hair. 

"Got a lot to say, hein?"

"You just feel so good in my pussy. I've never felt so good."

Right. 

"That so?"

Was he really feeling bored right now?

"Yes!" 

He pinched her nipple with his free hand, and she screamed again. 

He yanked her away from the counter, tossing her on the bed. 

"On your knees," he ordered. 

She obeyed, and he lined up behind her, plowing into her. 

Fuck, she was really tight. 

"Yes yes yes yes yes. Fuck me. Yessss. Oh God. I'm coming!"

She screamed again, and this time he did roll his eyes. 

He slammed harder into her until his balls felt tight, and he felt his spine tingling. 

He pulled out, and she groaned. 

"On the floor."

She dove onto the floor, gulping him down hungrily. She moaned around him, and he fucked her mouth, his fingers tangled in her hair. 

"Gonna come," he ground out. "You ready?"

"Mmhmm."

With that, he thrust deep, coming hard. He had to give her credit. She swallowed every drop as he shuddered with release. 

When he finally pulled back, she licked her lips and stood.

"I'll be back in a minute."

He nodded, flopping onto the bed with a sigh. 

Remy shut off his bike, lifting a leg over and doing a quick stretch. Long hours on the bike always made his muscles ache. 

He untied his duffle, tugging it over his shoulder, and when he looked up, his face broke into a smile. 

"I thought that might be you."

"There she is." 

He dropped his bag onto the ground, swooping his dear friend into his arms. 

He and Ororo Munroe had a long history, a bizarre history, truth be told. But there were few people he respected more, even fewer who had given him a real chance the way she had. She had also been a thief when she was younger, and he liked to tease that he taught her everything she knew. 

He held her in a tight hug, thinking that—even if his time at the X-Men went to shit—getting to see more of her might make whatever came next worth it. 

"It is wonderful to see you, Remy."

"And you, chere."

She looked down at his bag. 

"Is that all you brought?"

"I travel light." 

"I see that." 

He picked up his duffle, and they walked arm in arm up the path toward the house. 

"A room has been set up for you. And I have booked time in the danger room for you to demonstrate your skills." 

"The what room?"

"Danger room. It is a training room. You will see." 

"Right. So how many o' them you think gonna try to murder me in my sleep?" 

"Hush. I have vouched for you, so they will be on their best behavior. Some will take longer to trust you-"

"Prob'ly just shows their good sense." 

"It shows that they do not trust easily, my friend. But they will welcome you in time." 

Hmm. 

He wondered. 

It wasn't long before Remy was hit by a neverending stream of codenames, shaking hands with the motley crew that would be his team. He was good with names and faces, so he managed to keep up, but he planned to take more time to study the people around him, figure out what made them tick. 

He did his best to ignore the tingle in his spine that he always felt in a place like this. There were some expensive art pieces, even a rug that would fetch a fair price. 

But he wasn't here for that. 

Not to mention Stormy would kill me. 

One of the frames on the wall was slightly off center, and he fixed it, giving a sigh as he turned to see a flannel-clad man stomping toward him. 

"Wolfman, right?"

"Wolverine," the man ground out. "You wouldn't be planning to steal that, would you, Cajun?"

"Was just fixin' it, mon ami. Wouldn't steal that anyway." 

"Right." 

"It's Thomas Kinkade, cher. Couldn't pay me to take it."

"Who?"

"Right. Gotta get you some culture, Wolf Pup." 

Logan held up a fist, three claws slicing upward. 

"Call me that again…"

"Just get your nails done or somethin'?"

"You're gonna be a real pain in my ass, aren't you?"

"Only if you buy me dinner first, cher. I'm a gentleman." 

That made Logan snort. 

"Right." 

"Logan, please be kind to our new teammate. We need him in one piece." 

Ororo seemed to glide along the tile floor toward them. 

She put a hand on each of their shoulders, and that seemed to be enough for Wolvie to back down. 

"Just letting him know the art isn't for him." 

She furrowed her brow. 

"Is that a Thomas Kinkade?"

Logan rolled his eyes, tramping away. 

"I give up." 

Ororo eyed Remy. 

"Are you already misbehaving?"

"I would never, ma chérie." 

She gave him a tolerant smile, shaking her head. 

"I am not entirely sure I believe you."

"And that's 'cause you're a wise woman." 

She sighed. 

"Come along. Let's find something to do to keep you out of trouble." 

Rogue (the recent past)

Anna Marie Darkhölme only went by Rogue. Her real name was dead, and even that name wasn't the name she had been born with. Little Anna Marie had had a fairly uneventful life. Sure, she had been a bit feral, but the people around her had been fairly indulgent so long as she didn't cause any real trouble. 

But her true nature couldn't help but assert itself, and once she developed her powers, she could never look back. As a runaway, she scrambled for her next meal, fought for her safety. And then, as if by luck of the draw, she found a new home. 

Years later, she knew that this home hadn't been the product of luck. She supposed there was fondness, a semblance of love, but it hadn't started that way. She was given shelter because of her powers, because she was supposed to fulfill a vision. It wasn't that she was wanted. It was that she was likely to be useful. 

She had learned quickly that affection was contingent on displaying what that use might be. She excelled in school, became an adept fighter, learned all manner of trickery so that she might follow in her mother Raven's footsteps. She learned when to use her powers and how to make the most of them, how to shove aside the flood of memories that came every time she absorbed someone. She learned to adapt to using someone else's powers. And even then, she had to beg for praise, to be included, to be part of the team. 

The members of the Brotherhood grudgingly allowed her to come along, had only done so because they could admit that her powers were useful on occasion. But they saw her as the product of nepotism, as someone getting chances only because Raven was convinced she would be necessary in the future. 

And then, the team fought the Avengers. Raven hadn't wanted Rogue to join the team, but Rogue wore her down. 

She would always regret that. 

Because now Carol Danvers was dead, Rogue knew the truth, and she had no home once again. 

Rogue drifted for a long time, planned to continue doing so. But something had changed. 

She had two people inside her head, and Carol was a formidable foe, even in thought alone. And lately, Carol had begun to win their mental battles. 

Rogue was sure at first that she was going insane, because she was experiencing memory gaps that were increasing in length. She was getting used to looking through her phone for clues, checking receipts, tracing her steps. Sometimes she remembered, but usually—when Carol took over—her actions were a mystery. And when they were both thinking loudly, she couldn't tell which memories and thoughts were whose. It was as though Rogue was fading. 

She wasn't at all sure that she didn't deserve to lose herself. 

But her last remaining scrap of self-preservation had kicked in. 

Charles Xavier had no reason to help her, no reason to trust her. For all she knew, he might just murder her once he got inside her head. 

But Rogue was losing her mind, and her newly adopted powers made her ten times more dangerous. If nothing else, she had to be sure that nothing worse would happen. 

So he was her only hope. 

Rogue sat alone at the counter, stirring her coffee. She hadn't even noticed what the name of the diner was, but it didn't matter. She was looking for a cheap meal, a square meal. 

Fast food was getting old, and she just wanted to sit for a minute and breathe. 

She'd stupidly decided to drive her car rather than leave her car behind, which meant that she had more belongings with her, but her trip would also take ten times longer. 

Shoulda just flown. 

"Here you go, darlin'."

The waitress plunked down her food. 

"Thank you."

Rogue had pointed to the first sandwich on the menu. It didn't matter what she got. 

Carol always objected to something, so her food always seemed to turn to ash. 

Is this what I ordered? Really? Carol asked herself, as if on cue.

"Guess so."

Rogue winced. 

"What was that?" the waitress asked.

"Nothin'. Sorry, was thinkin' aloud."

"No problem. You look like you've been on the road."

Rogue raised an eyebrow. 

"That mean I look like a mess?"

Rogue reached up to touch her hair, which felt long somehow. 

When's the last time I washed this? Carol gagged inwardly. 

The waitress smiled.

"No, it means you look tired."

Rogue snorted. 

"That's what people say when you look like a mess."

"Well, you don't. Just like you could use a rest."

"You're not wrong 'bout that."

They really are obsessed with putting pickles on everything.

Rogue sighed, staring at the register at the end of the counter. It looked old-timey, like some sort of movie prop. 

"Here's your drink, love." 

Huh?

The waitress put a soda down in front of her. 

Rogue blinked at it. 

"Oh, I already…"

Wasn't I…?

Her coffee mug and spoon weren't there. 

Fuck. 

"Uh. Thank you." 

"Mind if I sit?"

Rogue looked up to see a man standing next to her. 

He wasn't particularly attractive, but he wasn't unattractive. And it didn't matter anyway. 

"Go ahead."

He slid into his seat. 

"Jim."

"Nice to meet you, Jim. I'm Rogue."

"Interesting name."

"Thank you."

"Jim's not that interesting, huh?"

"Not really, no."

That made him grin. 

Time to turn on the charm. 

"But nice to meet you all the same, sugar."

She held out a gloved hand. 

"Eating alone tonight?" she asked. 

He nodded. 

"Better to do it here than alone in the apartment."

Perfect. 

"Too true."

An hour later, Rogue had plopped the man on his bed and was settling under a blanket on his couch. 

She hated doing this, but she couldn't afford to stay at motels. 

She'd gone home with someone different each night, each time with them staring at her hungrily and doing their best to cop a feel. 

She always said the same thing. 

"Look, but don't touch, sugar. At least 'til we get to your place."

They inevitably grumbled, but she always insisted it would be worth it. That she had a few tricks up her sleeve. 

She did, too. Just not ones they were looking for. 

Each time, they leaned in to kiss her, and then she caught them and lowered them to the floor. 

She would be briefly overcome with a wave of memories, but they were usually dull enough that she could ignore them. 

Once their comatose bodies were settled comfortably, she slept. And by morning, she was gone. 

Rogue didn't remember the last few miles here, which was concerning. Most people had a sort of "highway hypnosis," so she didn't want to be alarmed, but when she looked back at her car, she saw that she had backed into the parking space. And only Carol did that. 

Rogue walked up the path toward the house, a duffle over her shoulder. Before absorbing Carol, this thing would have weighed a ton. Now she had to remind herself she was holding it. She still occasionally broke things, was learning to manage her newfound strength. She still said "ow" when she ran into things, though she no longer felt pain from injuries. 

She did, however, feel a pit in her stomach at the moment. 

How on earth could this possibly go well? She'd be lucky if these people didn't chase her out by the end of the day. 

She tamped that thought down. Worrying would do no good. 

As she moved closer, Rogue felt a wave of recognition, the strange sense of déjà vu that had become familiar to her. 

They must have a new landscaper. 

Rogue hadn't been here before, hadn't met these people before. 

But Carol apparently had. 

A red-haired supermodel strolled down the path to meet her. Rogue was good at detecting when someone didn't mean it, but this woman's genial smile seemed surprisingly genuine. 

"Hi there. Jean Grey. You must be Rogue." 

"I am. Nice to meet you." 

Jean held out a hand, which Rogue shook. She saw Jean's eyes flit briefly to her gloves, the way everyone's did. 

"My powers. I can't control them. So I cover up." 

"Ah. Right. Charles mentioned." 

Rogue nodded. 

"I love your coat by the way. Is it bespoke?"

Be what?

Rogue looked down at her green wool coat. A purchase from Goodwill when the weather started to change. 

"Uh no," she guessed. "But thank you." 

"Well, it fits you perfectly. I wear a lot of green, too. Sometimes the kids call me a leprechaun, but it does go with the hair."

"That it does." 

Rogue smiled. 

"Oh damn, is that your real hair?" someone asked. 

Rogue started, looking up to see a smiling teenage girl with blue hair and facial piercings studying her closely. 

When had they walked into the house?

"Huh?"

"No way you dyed it that well," the blue-haired girl went on. 

At least Rogue was getting better at recovering in these moments. 

Rogue shook her head. 

"It's natural." 

"You look like a skunk," someone else said. 

Rogue looked down to see a younger child, one who appeared to have recently lost a tooth, grinning at her. 

She had always liked younger kids. More than adults. Kids said what they meant. 

Rogue grinned back at the girl. 

"Oh, do I?" 

The girl nodded. 

Rogue grabbed the girl by the ankle, holding her upside down.

Jean gasped next to her, but the little girl giggled in delight. 

"Well, now you look like a monkey."

The girl squealed. 

"You're really strong." 

"Hate to break it to you, sugar, but you ain't that heavy." 

"Alright, Meredith. I think you and Jubilation better head to the play room." 

Rogue put the girl back down, watching as she and—apparently—Jubilation wandered off. 

"Sorry about that."

"'S'alright."

"You're good with kids." 

Rogue snorted. 

"Me?"

Jean tilted her head. 

"Yes." 

"If you say so, sugar."

Jean smiled at her again, still looking at her curiously as they moved down the hall. 

I wonder what she sees…

"I'll just show you to your room so you can get settled." 

Rogue nodded, studying the beautiful parquet floor. 

Charles always did have good taste. 

"Thank you for-" 

She looked up and blinked. 

Jean was long gone, and she was alone in a bedroom, her duffle sitting on the bed. 

Rogue felt her eyes stinging, and she pressed the heels of her palms to them. 

She sat on the edge of the bed, hating the world, her powers, herself. 

Fuck. 

Present

Rogue carried the man into the infirmary like he was a bride crossing a threshold, not much caring that his head bobbed around and occasionally knocked into something. 

She was positively fuming and indignant as all hell. 

Can't even just exist somewhere. Always gotta have things go insane, and always attracting whichever crazy person is in the area. 

Worth it, though, for a woman like that. Dieu. 

She pictured a blonde woman she'd never seen before and felt a wave of guilt that wasn't hers. 

Merde. Might have me a real problem. 

At least there's the danger room here. 

Fuck, now Carol had joined the party. 

And I can always ask Charles for help. 

Rogue groaned. 

You think I'd be used to this shit. 

But this was why she was here. For help. Because getting used to it wasn't an option. 

"Ah, you've brought him."

Rogue looked up to see a very large blue… bear (?) in a white coat and gold-rimmed spectacles looking at the man in her arms with amusement. 

Hank?

"Hank?" Rogue asked, now awash with surprise and recognition for someone she had never met. 

"Yes. Dr. Hank McCoy. I don't believe we've met?"

Don't you recognize me?

Rogue clenched her jaw. 

Not your thought. 

"Uh, no. We haven't." 

"Well, I suppose it was only a matter of time." 

She felt her hackles go up. 

"For what?"

He nodded toward the man in her arms. 

"Gambit is not known for being cautious." 

Bit harsh, M'sieur Bête. Thought we were becomin' friends. 

Rogue mentally shook herself. 

"Right. Well, he should prob'ly be known for havin' somethin' wrong with him. Who kisses a total stranger?"

A pair of bushy blue eyebrows went up. 

"Pardon?"

"He kissed me. When we were in the danger room. So serves him right." 

She gave the man—Gambit—a waggle for emphasis. 

"You have his eyes."

"Yes. Not by choice." 

"Is that an effect of your powers?"

"Yes. Shit."

Part of Gambit's coat was starting to glow. 

"Hang on." 

She took a deep breath, concentrating, letting the man's instinct take over. He was inside her head, could control his powers even when she didn't know how. 

Finally the coat stopped glowing. 

"Sorry. Guess I should have expected that. Already exploded my gloves." 

"I see." 

Rogue clenched her jaw. 

What do you see, Cookie Monster?

"Let's put him on the bed in here." 

"Alright." 

Rogue plopped the man unceremoniously onto the bed. 

"Well, I should-"

She should what? Get the hell out? Crawl under a rock?

She turned to leave. 

"One moment." 

She sighed. 

"Could you tell me a bit more about the effects of your powers?"

"What more is there to know? I've got his powers. In my head, too, mon ami."

Fuck. 

Hank studied her curiously. 

"I'd… mostly like to know what I can expect for his recovery so I can treat him properly. How long does this typically last?"

"With the amount of tongue involved? Maybe the rest of the day?"

Hank checked the man's eyes with a flashlight, did some other things Rogue couldn't see a reason for. 

"He will be comatose for the rest of the day?"

"Prob'ly. It's a lil different for everyone." 

"Thank you. It seems he will just need to rest."

"Works for me. I should get going." 

She turned again, but a wave of heartsickness stopped her in her tracks. 

"It's so good to see you again, Hank. It's been a long time." 

Hank started, his eyes shooting to hers. Of course they had.

Rogue's voice had changed slightly, her accent almost gone. 

"It's been a while since I've been around friends." 

"I'm sorry…?"

Rogue felt her eyes stinging. 

"No one seems to recognize me anymore. I must be getting old," she quipped. 

She ran a hand through her hair. It was still longer than she expected. 

"Hmm. Always figured I'd age like a fine wine," she drawled, her voice now full of late nights, jazz, and bad decisions. 

"I still don't think we've met before… Maybe you're thinking of someone else?"

"Another big, blue grizzly bear, cher? Don't think so." 

Rogue clenched her fists. 

"I'm sorry. It's my powers. I-" Rogue swiped angrily at her eyes. "I need to go." 

"Was that Carol? Aside from Gambit."

Rogue's heart sank. 

"I… Yes."

"I see. She was my friend." 

"I know. I'm sorry," she said lamely. 

You don't understand. 

The man nodded. 

"I'll let you go." 

It was a dismissal. 

He turned back to Gambit, and that was just fine. Rogue couldn't get away fast enough. 

Rogue entered the meeting room, giving the few team members that would look at her a few nods. 

Why did I come here? This was a stupid idea. 

They would never trust her. Would never believe she was safe, that she just wanted help, that she really didn't want to hurt anyone. 

She sighed, sitting down and studying the table. 

At least it wasn't going to look at her with disdain. 

Someone flopped into the seat next to her, and she looked up into a pair of twinkling red and black eyes. 

"Afternoon, chere."

"Hello."

"Thought you might like to know I lived."

"Didn't care much either way, to be honest."

"That kiss o' yours packs quite a punch."

"I'm aware. Guess that's why you shoulda asked first."

"Nah. Was worth it. You the most beautiful woman I ever seen."

"And you're the slimiest sleazeball I ever met."

"Can't flirt with me like that, chere. I'm married." 

"Yeah, I'm sure that stops you a lot. You forget to pack 'er or somethin'?"

"Comment?"

"Can't help noticin' she ain't here. 'Less you got her locked in a closet or somethin'." 

"Non, she's still back home." 

"Didn't wanna come with?"

"Long story, petite." 

"Right. Well, if you got time, give me her address."

"Pourquoi?"

"Figured it's only right I send my condolences. Can't imagine this is far enough away." 

"Ain't you funny." 

"Aww, sugar, I didn't mean to hurt your feelins." 

"Remy, how are you?"

Ororo—Storm, she reminded herself—stood next to them. 

I notice you don't wanna know how I'm doin', sugar. 

"I'm well, Stormy. As always. Just chattin' with my new friend… What'd you say your name was?"

"I didn't. But it's Rogue."

"You got a real name?"

"Not anymore."

He tilted his head. 

"You gonna be a mystery, hein?"

"Somethin' like that."

"Yes, there are a few things we do not yet know about Rogue," Ororo said meaningfully. 

"I'm not-" Rogue cut herself off. 

It made sense that they would be wary, she reminded herself. 

"You have nothing to fear from me, my friend," Rogue heard herself say. 

Ororo's eyes widened at that. 

"Uh. Not sure if you noticed, petite, but your voice different now."

"I don't believe we've met. I'm-"

"Carol," Ororo finished, her eyes becoming cold. 

Rogue's eyes began to sting. 

"It's not- I'm not- I was-"

I was tricked, she wanted to scream. They used me and made me a monster, and I didn't know until it was too late. 

But Ororo wouldn't believe her. None of them would. 

"I-"

Rogue jumped up, practically flying out of the room. 

How the hell was she going to do this?

Rogue stomped down the hall, not even knowing where she was going. 

"You okay, petite?"

She turned on her heels. 

"You followed me?"

"Just checkin' on you. You ran out like a bat outta hell."

"Well, I'm pretty sure that's exactly what everyone in that room wanted."

"Pourquoi?"

"I- I killed their friend."

"Oh. But they let you on the team?"

"It's… complicated. Xavier knows the whole story. He knows-"

He knows I didn't mean to. 

"Why'd you do it?"

"Seriously?"

"Oui. 'S a simple question."

"Kinda personal to ask a stranger."

He shrugged. 

"Don't have to answer."

"I… My mama made me think I had to."

"Ain't you a lil old for-"

"I said it was complicated." 

He nodded. 

"Alright."

"Alright what?"

"Alright nothin'."

She snorted. 

"You wouldn't just say 'alright' if you knew what killin' someone was like. It's not somethin' I can ever forget."

He moved closer, his eyes flinty rather than mischievous. 

"I killed a lotta people in my time, chere. More'n I can count. I know exactly what it's like."

"You… Really?"

He nodded. 

"Lotta people in that room got skeletons in their closet, too."

"Maybe, but it's not the same." 

"You sure 'bout that?"

No. She guessed she didn't. 

"You still with me, petite?"

Huh?

"Started talkin' 'bout your last time here, but then you were just starin'."

"I haven't been here before." 

"Non?"

He looked genuinely puzzled, concerned even. 

Fuck. 

"It's my powers."

"You sure? I can get-"

"It's fine. Excuse me." 

With that, she turned and darted away. 

Remy returned to his seat, giving Ororo a nod. 

Scott was sharing about an upcoming mission, but if true to form, he would take a few slides to get to the important parts. 

"Why did you follow her?" Ororo asked under her breath. 

"Just checkin' to see if she's alright." 

"Remy, you cannot sleep with her." 

That made him snort. 

"That why you gave her that look?"

"No." 

"Carol Danvers, right?"

Ororo furrowed her brow. 

"How did you know?"

"Found her file. When I was through bein' Sleepin' Beauty."

"Then you must understand my concerns." 

He nodded. 

"I do. But you know what they say. Keep your friends close..." 

"Our enemies do not need access to our plans. Or intelligence. Speaking of which, where has she gone?"

"No idea."

"Is everything alright?" Scott cut in. 

"I was just asking Remy if he knew where Rogue had gone."

"Oh. She messaged that she needed to take a minute." 

"Oh?"

Scott shrugged. 

"She'll be back soon." 

"Are we sure she can be trusted unsupervised?"

"Surrounded by cameras and in the vicinity of many powerful telepaths?" Scott raised an eyebrow. "Yes." 

"Speaking of cameras, did everyone see the footage of her in the danger room?" Bobby interjected, sounding almost awed. 

Betsy smiled wryly. 

"Truth be told. I would rather fight with her than against her." Betsy gave Remy a look. "Though maybe next time Remy will behave so we can see the entire simulation." 

He shrugged. 

"Didn't know what I was interruptin'."

"Would that have stopped you?" Ororo asked, an eyebrow raised. 

"Non. Probably not." 

"I trust you are feeling better, Gambit?" Hank asked. 

"Sure am, M'sieur Bête. Appreciate you givin' me a bed to sleep it off." 

Scott let out a beleaguered sigh. 

"What did you do? I haven't been able to watch the entire thing."

"Just learned that she kisses like a semi truck."

Scott palmed his forehead. 

"Of course you did." 

"She fights well," Logan interrupted. "Good instincts. Good form. Doesn't need them with her strength. Or invulnerability. But she's got them. And she keeps going when she's knocked down."

"And she is only slightly thrown by distractions." Betsy gave Remy a meaningful look. 

Ororo nodded. 

"The Brotherhood trained her well." 

"We know why she joined up in the first place?" Remy asked. "Might be an Oscar-worthy actress, but she don't seem like the type." 

"Are you sure you haven't just been charmed?" Ororo asked.

Remy snorted. 

"Tried to kill me more'n once. Not sure I'd call that charm." 

Jean shook her head, giving Remy a small smile. 

"No, I wouldn't have said she was trying to charm Gambit. And I agree, she seems like an odd choice for the Brotherhood." 

"That part of her file was quite sparse," Hank pointed out. 

"Yes, Charles was strangely reticent to share about that." 

"Just like he didn't want to share about your time with Essex, Cajun." Logan gave Remy a meaningful look. 

Remy shrugged. 

"Be mad if you want to, claws." 

"Remy," Ororo warned. 

"Do we know why he won't share?" Bobby asked. "About, uh, Rogue." 

"More importantly, do we know anyone else who might tell us the truth?" Betsy asked. 

"What's it matter?" Remy asked. 

Bobby shrugged. 

"It might help us know whether we can trust her."

"Dieu. You talk like this 'bout me when I joined?"

"Still do, Gumbo."

Logan glared at him. 

Remy responded with a wink, which made Logan roll his eyes. 

"I will say," Jean interrupted. "Charles is not one to risk the safety of the team."

"You believe he knows something?" Hank asked. "About her time at the Brotherhood?"

"Maybe. Or the circumstances behind Carol's death. He would have to if he is working with her." 

"What might he know?" Ororo asked. 

"I don't know," Jean admitted. "But something must have convinced him that she was safe." 

"It was chilling, talking to her," Hank noted. "It was as though I was suddenly speaking to Carol. Not to mention Gambit." 

Remy smiled. 

"She sound like me?"

Hank nodded. 

"And she had your eyes." 

Dieu. Must have been a sight. 

"They seemed to take over each time."

Hmm. So that's what that was…

"At least it's Carol taking over and not the Blob," Bobby quipped. 

"Yes, Fred would be less ideal. Anyone mind if I get us back on track?" Scott asked tartly. 

"Why? We got a mission or somethin', one-eye?" Remy asked, ignoring Ororo's irritated expression. 

Scott heaved another sigh. 

Charles Xavier seemed to radiate wisdom. He had piercing, thoughtful eyes that Rogue had seen could turn gentle, and sitting facing her, his fingers tented, Rogue felt like she was visiting a temple of sorts. 

His office was meticulously organized, without a speck of dust. Everything was neat, controlled, predictable. 

Rogue couldn't imagine what that must be like. 

She felt like a mess from the top of her head to the tips of her toes. She didn't fit, never seemed to be able to make herself fit. Even when her room was tidy, when she followed fighting techniques, when she carefully did her hair, things seemed to be out of place somehow. 

Even her greeting had been messy and uncouth.

"I don't think this is workin'," she said without preamble, dropping into her chair. 

"Why do you say that?" Xavier asked indulgently. 

"They don't trust me. They don't want to trust me." 

She stared at the floor. 

"Rogue?"

"Huh?"

"Are you still with me?"

"Dammit! See, that keeps happenin'. I say anythin'?"

"You just looked far away."

"Great." 

"It was only for a moment. I was pointing out that you have been here, what, one day? Two?"

"Two." 

"And you and I have not yet begun our work." 

"No, but you said I'm here to help the team. They're not gonna let me do that. And I start teachin' tomorrow, and I just know someone's gonna decide to shadow me like I'm gonna corrupt the kids."

"You still do not wish to share about your time with the Brotherhood? And before joining. Or the incident with Carol?"

Rogue shook her head. 

"I want to, but they won't believe me anyway. I been on the wrong side the whole time, far as they're concerned. I killed their friend." 

"To protect yourself. And the people you considered your family." 

"You think that'll be enough? She's still gone. My mama and- The Brotherhood's still up to no good. To the team, I'm just a spy. Or dead weight because they can't trust me with anythin' useful." 

"I think the team will surprise you. They have many checkered pasts among them."

"That's what Gambit suggested. Makes me think he's got the worst o' them all," she said wryly. 

Xavier said nothing. 

Hmm. 

"Carol already talked to a couple'a them. I can't control when it happens. They looked like they'd seen a ghost. Guess they had in a way. And you saw I just zone out sometimes." 

Xavier nodded. 

"You really think you can fix this?"

"Yes, I believe so." 

"You think I deserve to have it fixed?" she asked earnestly. 

"That is not for me to say."

"Right. Meanin' no. I guess she was your friend, too."

"Meaning there is no good or bad, but thinking makes it so." 

"Huh?"

"A line from Hamlet." 

"He a team member?"

Xavier's eyebrows went up. 

"Jokin'. Sorry." 

Xavier smiled. 

"Let's give the team some time. Gambit is also newly with us, and the team have—I'll admit, somewhat grudgingly—accepted his presence. The same will happen with you."

"You don't think they'll chase me out with pitchforks instead?"

"I do not. And in the meantime, we will help you and Carol make peace." 

Chapter Text

CHAPTER 3: MEMORY

1. Jubilee discovers a photo online

2. Jubilee thinks Gambit is being weird

3. Remy texts his wife Belladonna

4. Whoops!

5. Ororo has questions for Remy

6. Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters welcomes its new teachers!

7. Rogue teaches and actually enjoys herself

8. Remy teaches and doesn't accidentally kill anyone

9. Remy decides to offer backup

10. Jubilee is Rogue's biggest fan

11. Remy has questions for Ororo

12. Scott shares about the team's upcoming mission

13. Remy wants to be fashion forward

14. Rogue is a hit at the gala

15. Remy has questions for Rogue

16. Rogue sees someone from her past and tries to hide

17. Remy does some helpful acting (and Ororo has thoughts)

18. The team discusses Magneto's attendance

19. After the meeting, Ororo is concerned about Remy

20. Remy looks at some photos and does some thinking

Chapter Text

CHAPTER 4: DIG

Rogue was nervous for her first lesson. It wasn't just that she had limited experience teaching. She was concerned for her mind, didn't want to scare the students by zoning out. 

Guess if Carol takes over they'll at least have a good teacher for a minute, she thought wryly. 

Just as she was starting, Bobby strolled in, settling near her and the students. 

"You alright?"

He nodded. 

"Just shadowing."

She sighed. 

"Of course you are."

"I'll stay out of your hair. I'm mostly just here in case you need anything."

She raised an eyebrow. 

"Anyone fooled by that line yet?"

He just grinned. 

She felt her blood pressure rising, but she took a deep breath. 

You expected this. You're new. It makes sense. 

Rogue turned back to her students, trying to focus on the task at hand. 

She finally took a moment to study them more closely, and Bobby faded from her mind. The students seemed nervous and were shuffling their feet. They were on the younger side, and something about that made her heart clench. 

Rogue had always had a soft spot for the lost and scared. Her mama had tried her best to bury it, to frighten it away, but it was surprisingly resilient. Rogue had always fought not to show it, had always been told it was her weakness, a vulnerable underbelly that needed to stay hidden. But that hadn't made it go away, and the worry and wariness in the students’ eyes gripped her heart. 

She hated that they were afraid, that their powers probably frightened them, particularly because they had developed earlier than most. They all had visible mutations, wings, auras of energy, one even seemed to somehow be surrounded by water in addition to air. These weren't children who could hide, who could escape the ridicule and hatred that had likely been flung their way. 

Rogue knew how it felt to have the people around you turn on you, to—in an instant—become disgusted with who you were and who you would remain. She hated that these children were likely facing that now, had probably faced it as soon as their powers emerged. 

She knew what it was to feel that alone and afraid. She told people she was a runaway, and she was, but because she had been chased out of town. She had lived by herself in the woods with a shotgun for fear of being murdered by people intent on seeking revenge for an honest, unpreventable mistake. Her home after that had been harsh in its own right with no softness or gentle guidance. Her home after that? A place of unspeakable horror. 

She took another deep breath. 

In a moment like this, what would she have wanted instead? Before the world had filled her with disappointment, weariness, and pain. What kind of gentleness now might save these children from the fate that had found her? And what would she have given at their age to know that a soft landing might be possible, that there were some people who had kindness in their hearts?

Hmm. 

"I know we're workin' on flyin' today, but I'd like to sit down and get to know each other a bit first."

Rogue sat cross-legged on the floor, and the students followed. She could feel Bobby's confused eyes tickling her back, could sense his surprise at her change in tone. 

He prob'ly thinks it's Carol come out to play. 

But today, it wasn't. 

"How many o' y'all can swim?"

Everyone raised a hand, their eyes full of confusion. 

"How'd you learn?" she asked the girl to her left. 

"Lessons," the girl responded. 

Rogue nodded, looking back around the group. 

"Same for the rest of y'all?"

The students nodded. 

"What happened in those lessons? They just toss you in the pool and hope for the best?"

She was met with a few grins at that. 

"Feels like that's how you're gonna learn to use your powers, though, huh?"

The students nodded, their eyes now wary. 

"I always hated the idea that people did that. 'Cause with somethin' big like that, the idea of just divin' in is real terrifyin'. And you don't end up learnin' anyway."

It was. She knew from experience. 

"So I got a few powers. And they didn't come all at once."

One of the students tilted her head. 

"Really?"

Rogue nodded. 

"Why not?"

"Sugar, that is a real long story." 

One you'll never ever hear. 

"Flyin' came later on for me."

"You couldn't always?" another student asked. 

"I could not. But even then, learnin' when I was a bit older, I was sure I would fall. I was afraid of heights, too, so I just thought, 'No, way in he-'" She caught herself. "'No way in heck am I doin' that.'" 

More grins were starting to form on the faces in front of her. 

"I was plannin' to just stay on the ground forever." 

"But you didn't." 

"Nope. Learned to fly and never looked back. It's prob'ly hard to believe, but I do it for fun now sometimes."

"You aren't scared anymore? Of falling?"

"Not one bit. Because learnin' how to use my powers means I got control over whether or not I fall."

She stood up. 

"Alright. Everybody up."

The faces in front of her looked worried again, though the students stood. 

"Remember what I said 'bout the pool? Throwin' you in and hopin' for the best sure don't work all that well. Same with flyin'. So instead o' divin' in head first, let’s try a lil game." 

Rogue set her phone to chime at every minute, turning up the volume. 

"This is gonna make a noise every minute. I'm gonna call out somethin' to do when that happens. You can either do it, or you can tap out if you've had enough. No shame in whatever you do."

"Wait, what is it we're doing?"

"That's a very good question. Alright, circle up. I got one more thing to say."

The students moved closer, watching her apprehensively. 

"You ready?"

They nodded, their eyes remaining wary. 

Rogue waited for her phone to chime, and then she tapped the shoulder of the student to her right. 

"Tag! You're it!"

And then she bolted away, a smile forming on her face. 

There had been a moment of silence after she started running, and she worried that the students hadn't joined her. But then she heard quick footsteps and just managed to dodge one student's attempt to tag her. 

Her phone chimed. 

"Let's go one foot up in the air!" She couldn't help but laugh. "Like 12 inches, you knuckleheads!" 

She took flight, albeit very conservatively, and she smiled encouragingly when the students joined her. 

"That's it?" one asked. 

"Sure is. Though I'm willin' to chase each one of you if you think we're done playin' tag," she huffed. 

They continued to play. Each phone chime took them another foot up, and she saw the students testing themselves, appearing pleasantly surprised at how well they were doing. They giggled and cheered and shouted encouragement, some even griping that she wasn't taking them up far enough. 

Rogue had forgotten Bobby entirely, but when she turned back, one student hot on her tail, she saw that he was taking photos and grinning in delight. She flew straight toward him, getting so close that he had to dive out of the way before she collided with him. 

She hadn't been lying that she had learned to use her powers for fun. 

When she determined the students had gone just high enough, she slowly took them down, one foot at a time. As they descended, some grumbled, complaining that flying this low was too easy. 

Rogue was thrilled to see it. 

They'd go higher next time, and they wouldn't even realize it. 

"Alright, y'all. High fives on the way out. You did wonderful today."

"You're good with them," Bobby said as they walked out. 

"Am I?" She stopped in her tracks, her jaw dropping. "Oh hell. Forgot to ask anyone their name. Or tell them mine." 

Bobby snorted. 

"What were you sayin' 'bout me bein' good?" she asked wryly.

"Maybe not with admin." 

"Guess not." 

"But I meant you're good at teaching them."

"I guess I'm better with kids than with real people." 

Bobby's eyebrows went up, and she shot him a glare. 

"You know what I meant." 

He grinned again. 

"Well, real people or not, you have good teaching instincts. I don't think the kids realized they were learning." 

"Well, they're going to learn more if they enjoy it, right?"

Bobby nodded. 

"Like I said. Good instincts." 

"I don't know how it happened, but it feels like… It used to sometimes feel like she was watchin' and tryin' to decide whether to say somethin'. And I know when it's the kind o' thing where she jumps in, so sometimes I'm ready, and sometimes I realize afterwards that she has. But it's been like… I been waitin' for her to show up, and she doesn't. There's… just… I can just think 'bout what I want to do or say. I get to the end of a thought and actually know where I started."

Xavier smiled gently at her, and Rogue's face suddenly felt warm. 

"Oh gosh. I been ramblin'." 

"In here, I like to call that processing." 

That made Rogue snort. 

"That does make it sound better." 

He nodded. 

"Where'd she go?" Rogue asked earnestly. 

"Her psyche is essentially at rest. Think of Carol before as needing to assert herself, seeing situations and not realizing they were being handled by someone else. And that they were not hers to handle, and this was not the place for her to be in control." 

"But… I took that place away from her."

Xavier nodded. 

"You did," he admitted. "But that doesn't mean you're beholden to her now." 

"Meanin' what?"

Instead of responding, he studied her closely. 

"You seem to be struggling to accept that Carol is gone." 

"Well… that's… she isn't gone. For me." 

"The real Carol is gone. You have her memories, echoes of her personality. Those have been loud for a long time. But she herself is gone."

"Meanin' what's inside my head isn't real." 

"Correct. And giving in to what's inside your head won't bring Carol back. It would be a needless sacrifice. And it could be dangerous." 

"I know. I guess that's the biggest reason I'm here. I don't want anyone else to get hurt, and I just don't trust... But sometimes I don't… Sometimes it feels like I don't deserve to exist after what I did."

"I sense that." 

"I guess most of the time I don't care all that much if I just go away. Feels like there's been a huge fight in my head that I don't deserve to win." 

Xavier nodded. 

"The only time in my life I haven't wanted to fight," she said wryly. 

"Yes, I've already heard you described as a 'spitfire.'"

"Well, that's a lil rude," she grumbled. "Makes it sound like I ain't got reason to be mad." 

"It sounded to me like it was done with affection." 

"Right. Don't think anyone here feels any affection toward me."

"No? I don't tend to text, having never truly needed to, but even I received a photograph that Bobby took during your first class. He seemed very happy with how it went. And pleased with your teaching style." 

"Would you call that affection?"

"I would call it warmth. Or possibly budding warmth." 

"I guess that should be enough for me." 

"A number of team members have seemed to enjoy your company as well." 

"Really?"

She hated that it mattered at all to her. 

Xavier nodded. 

"They have been impressed with your fighting style, your refusal to get knocked down, your wit, even your warmth." 

That made her snort. 

"Ain't got a warm bone left in my body." 

He tilted his head. 

"Do you really believe that?"

"You don't?"

He shook his head. 

"What would your students say about you?"

"Prob'ly that I talk funny." 

Xavier grinned. 

"What else?"

She shrugged. 

"Not sure I been teachin' long enough for them to have much to say." 

"Hmm." He turned to his computer. "Parents and guardians often give feedback, mostly based on what their children share. We have plenty of orphans here, as you know, but more and more families are involved." 

Rogue was surprised to feel a wave of… what? Hope would be too far, but pleasure? Relief? 

"I'm glad to hear that." 

Xavier nodded. 

"Let's see. 'I wanted to let you know that my daughter and I just had our weekly call. She hasn't mentioned wanting to go outside for months, but today she told me she wants me to watch her fly.'"

Rogue felt her jaw drop, and her eyes began to sting. 

"Hmm. 'My son has always been terrified of heights, but today he told me he was able to touch the ceiling. I can't remember the last time he sounded proud of himself.'" 

"Oh God." 

"'My daughter met a teacher today who also can't touch other people without hurting them. She said the teacher complimented her gloves and mentioned she had some in a similar color. I think it's the first phone call where my daughter hasn't cried.’" 

Rogue clamped a hand over her mouth, no longer able to stop her tears.

When was the last time she'd let herself cry?

"I…"

"I can't speak to everyone's opinion, but I would not say that the students consider you to be someone without warmth. Quite the reverse." 

"I just… I know how it was for me-" Her voice caught. "I look at those lil faces and…" 

"Do not want them to experience the same things?"

"Prob'ly everyone here feels that way, though."

"Yes. But you are also a good teacher." 

She snorted. 

"Don't even know what I'm doin'." 

"It seems to me you know enough for now." 

Rogue wiped at her face. 

"You're not lyin' to me? Those are really 'bout me?"

"Yes." 

"Alright." 

She sniffled.

"I recognize that you feel tremendous guilt and sorrow. I sense how much you want to atone for Carol’s death, and that losing yourself to Carol often feels like the only way to achieve that. Even in small ways, such as not wanting to embrace your newer powers because you consider them stolen." 

"They were stolen." 

He went on, ignoring the interruption. 

"Do you believe losing yourself to Carol's psyche would really benefit those children?" 

She narrowed her eyes at him. 

"Now you're fightin' dirty." 

He shrugged. 

"It's an honest question. And I am guessing that those children matter to you much more than you matter to yourself, at least for now."

Rogue nodded. 

"So, until you come to matter to yourself as well, I will have to fight dirty. It is an uncomfortable truth, but Carol is not coming back. You don't go away because of what you've done, and having done it, it doesn't follow that Carol is allowed to take from you." 

"But that sounds so unfair."

He shrugged. 

"Life isn't fair." 

She couldn't help but smile at that. 

"I wouldn't become a motivational speaker, sugar." 

That made him grin as well. 

"Possibly not. But that's not what I'm here for." 

Remy walked down the hallway, giving his muscles a stretch. 

He had taught a few classes in a row, and he was surprised to find that the part he disliked the most was the fact that he had to remain still while others worked and played. He had set up exercises in the shooting range to improve students' aim with projectiles, ran exercises in the danger room to practice using powers with obstacles in place. He and Betsy even co-taught a class comparing martial arts techniques. 

How the hell was he taking to teaching like a duck to water?

Guild instructors were almost always frustrated with him, put up with him mainly because his skill rivaled his disinterest in following rules. And because of who his father was. It was astonishing that he so enjoyed being on the other side of that equation. 

He liked sitting with his students, talking through what they were struggling with. Sure, it usually ended with a pat on the back, involved more jokes than therapy or advice. But it somehow fit him well. 

Guess I've always been good with people. 

He thought of the number of people who'd wanted to kill him. 

When it suits me. 

Other team members were clearly flummoxed by his success as a teacher, a team member, even in general. With students, they initially saw only his moments of silliness, the times when he slightly bent the rules to give his students a little extra fun. But now he could see something different in their eyes, just as he saw Ororo’s gratification when she realized that the inhabitants of the mansion were seeing the things in him that she had always found there. 

Remy guessed part of him wasn't that surprised that he was doing well. It was easy for other people to fall for the air of nonchalance he had so carefully crafted. His words, his body language, his behavior exuded carelessness, told others that he didn't give a shit, that he didn't give a shit whether they gave a shit about that. He had done this for so long that it often felt like that was just who he was, that there was nothing behind the curtain. 

But pulling the curtain back, he was adaptable, smart, competent. He read people well, knew how to turn them over to his cause. And he was resilient and rolled with the punches when others might have stood and stared. He knew which lever to pull when he was trying to fuck or fight someone (or both), and he benefited from being able to always keep people guessing. People often didn't consider him a threat, never understood who they were really dealing with until it was too late. 

Remy had cultivated this facade as a street kid, one who was smaller than the other boys and whose glowing eyes made him an easy target for anyone looking to cause trouble. He'd had some of the seedier thieves try to rob him, predatory old men try to fuck him, even other kids try to beat the shit out of him for fun. They had all underestimated him, and it had been to their detriment. At best, he robbed them blind. At worst, he left them bleeding in a dark alley. 

He guessed the person capable of all of that might very well be a good fit for something like his current position. He also suspected that, even if he had initially struggled, he'd have fallen into a rhythm rather quickly. 

He wondered if any of his other teammates had begun to suspect that he had hidden depths, that aside from the secrets they—reasonably—suspected he was keeping, there was more to Remy LeBeau than met the eye. Did they notice that his attitude was a mismatch for his skill level, that even though he enjoyed a good time, it miraculously never got in the way of his work. 

He knew that someone looking closely would see that he was too good a thief, too good a fighter, even too adept with his powers to be someone who really didn't care. He was too connected, was treated with too much grudging respect for someone truly unreliable. True, he was wayward, liked to play when he should have been serious, but he was loyal, and he was really good at what he did. He had been lucky that very few people had ever called him on it. 

He suspected Xavier had seen through him, at least in this respect, as Ororo had long ago, and that had likely tipped the scales in his favor. He just needed to keep everyone else from looking closer.  

"How are you, my friend?"

Remy looked back to see Ororo hurrying to catch up with him. 

"Hey, Stormy."

"Have you injured your neck?"

"Comment?"

He realized he had been rolling his neck, trying to get a kink out. 

"Just get stiff sittin' and watchin' students instead of bein' out there with 'em."

"You are sure that is not just age?"

He narrowed his eyes at her. 

"Yes." 

She smiled back. 

"Well, it does take some getting used to when you're accustomed to being in the field." 

He nodded. 

"You been teachin' today?"

"Yes, but we have been outside. It is a lovely day." 

He raised an eyebrow. 

"Don't s'pose that's a coincidence?"

"I don't know what you're talking about." 

That made him grin. 

"I enjoyed the photo you shared of your class. They seemed to be learning quickly." 

"Oui. Fingers crossed that they hit a target by next July." 

"Are they truly struggling that much?"

"No. Just got more firepower than sense." 

She gave him a meaningful look. 

"Je sais. But weren't you the one who said I seemed wiser now?" 

"Only slightly." 

He shrugged. 

"I'll take that." 

A loud crash came from a monitor nearby, and Remy felt himself smile. 

"Sounds like the danger room's occupied." 

Ororo let out a beleaguered sigh. 

"Remy, it is likely to be a solo training session at this hour." 

"Sure is. And I bet I know for who." 

He went to a control panel. 

"Remy, she has told us she prefers to train alone." 

"I know, but that's what makes this fun. 'Sides, I need some exercise." 

"You are enjoying bothering her too much." 

"I'm helpin' her hone her skills." 

Ororo shook her head. 

"Every time I start to think you are growing up…" 

"Spent all day bein' a grown-up, chere. Gotta keep up my reputation." 

"Your reputation is fine without your help." 

The doors flew open, and Remy pulled out his bo staff, clicking it open. 

"I take back what I said!" Ororo called after him as the doors closed behind him. 

"Cajun, what the hell??" Rogue shouted as Remy jogged into the danger room. 

She so badly seemed to want to keep from reacting, and she failed every time. 

He loved it. 

He had no idea why, but he did. 

"Just helpin' you out, ma chérie." 

"Well, why don't you help me by gettin' the hell outta the danger room?"

"Remy, this is a closed session," Betsy's voice boomed over the intercom. 

"Sorry, Bets, can't hear you clearly." 

Rogue rolled her eyes, diving back into the fray. 

She always did this. Just gave up, which he always decided to take as tacit permission to join in. 

Just as he loved getting her goat, he was enjoying getting a feel for her fighting style. True, she relied on brute force rather than finesse, but her form was good when she hit and kicked. She clearly had skill, and after watching her spar with Betsy on one occasion, he knew now that she could hold her own if need be. Betsy was by far the better fighter, though Rogue had managed to gain a few points due to sheer scrappiness, which somehow delighted him. 

Today appeared to be a brute force sort of day, and he watched her tear off half the side of a building because it was in her way. 

Probably good she ain't usin' that to beat me to death. 

"You and I should spar some time, chere," he shouted. "Might be nice to have a worthy opponent." 

"You think that's you?"

"More than worthy." 

The intercom clicked on again. 

"Gambit, has anyone ever told you you talk too much when you're fighting?" Betsy asked. 

"What you say, Bets? Rogue and I should spar, non?"

Click. 

"I would like to see her drop a building on you." 

"Was thinkin' closer quarters." 

Rogue flew past him, holding half a bus in one hand like it was a handbag. 

"I'm sure you were, Cajun." 

He dove, sending a steady stream of cards flying toward a hologram of a green tentacled... horse?

Who's programmin' this shit? 

"Gambit, you're s'posed to avoid hittin' those!"

"Désolé, ma chérie. But how was I s'posed to know?"

"By not crashin' my damn session!"

"More fun this way, mon amour. What am I s'posed to be hittin'?"

"The red ones!"

"Those horses?"

"Does it really matter??"

Click. 

"Remy, if she kills you, I'm giving her an alibi." 

He ignored that. 

"Come on, Rogue. Don't have to be a long session. Hand to hand. Weapons. Wouldn't even mind lettin' you have another kiss." 

He heard her snort. 

"Sugar, I been inside your head. I know all 'bout what you do with that mouth."

"That mean yes?"

Click. 

"Now, this I wouldn't mind hearing about," Betsy interjected. "Go on, Rogue." 

"Gonna have to hear that from Gambit. My stomach can't handle it." 

"What about other parts, ma chérie?"

"You want me to throw this damn bus at you?" she snapped. 

Remy was tired and sweaty, but it had been a good workout. He felt more like himself now. 

He heard someone stomping his way and already knew who to expect. 

"Gambit!"

He turned around with a smile. 

"How can I help you, ma chérie?"

Rogue gave him a shove. 

"Don't you 'chérie' me. I told you to stop crashin' my sessions." 

"Je sais. But this more fun."

"I swear. Somethin's wrong with you. Why even bother doin' it?"

"I like fightin' alongside you, chere. You're a beast. Maybe even more than M'sieur Hank." 

"Well, maybe Hank likes to have some sorta human barnacle train with him, but I don't." 

"C'mon. You like it a lil, non?"

She groaned. 

"You have a hard time understandin' the word 'no,' Cajun?"

"Course not. Just most people don't say 'no'."

He gave her a wink. 

"Ugh. You're a damn piece o' work."

"I'm gonna take that as a compliment." 

"Seriously, Gambit, I-"

"Miss Rogue!"

Rogue cut herself off, turning her head. 

A little girl with pale purple wings trimmed in white came running over from the end of the hallway, and Remy felt his jaw drop. 

The girl's wings were those of a beautiful, almost iridescent butterfly, and they were a sight to see. 

But Remy was far more stunned by the dazzling smile that spread across Rogue's face. 

"Well, if that isn't Miss Payton James." 

The girl jumped into Rogue's arms for a bear hug, and Remy had to blink to make sure he was awake. 

"Hi there, sugar." 

Was this the same woman who had been tearing him a new one not a moment earlier?

"Miss Rogue, did you see I got new braids?"

"I do see. They're beautiful!"

"I wanted to get sister locs like my mom's, but she said they're too hard to keep up, especially when I'm here."

"Well, I think these are just lovely. And you got plenty o' time to do all sorts o' fun stuff with your hair. Don't she look gorgeous, Mr. LeBeau?"

Remy stared. 

"Uh. Oui. Yes." 

"Miss Payton here is one of my best fliers, and she got a smile that always makes my day. Not to mention-" Rogue gave Payton a poke on the side, and the girl began to giggle. "The most infectious laugh." 

"There you are." 

Rogue looked to the end of the hallway, where Jean was standing with her hands on her hips. 

"Payton, you can't run off, even to see Miss Rogue." 

"I wanted to show her my braids." 

"That's fine. You just need to tell me first."

"Alright, my love. Miss Grey looks like she means business. I'll see you in class in the mornin'." 

"Okay." 

Rogue put the girl down, and Payton started to scamper off. 

"I beg your pardon," Rogue huffed. "Do I or do I not get my high five?" 

"Sorrrryyyyy." 

Payton ran back over and smacked Rogue on the hand. 

Remy could see Jean watching him in amusement from behind them, seeming completely unsurprised at Rogue's behavior. 

Why wasn't she fixated on the changeling in front of them instead?

Was this a dream?

"Bye, Miss Rogue!"

"Bye, sugar." 

Rogue turned back to him, still smiling. 

Her smile seemed to light up her whole face. 

Fuck. 

"She's such a sweetheart. I got a few younger ones like her. Was terrified to fly at first. Now I gotta tell her not to jump off things. You alright?"

"Huh?"

"You look like you seen a ghost." 

"Non. I… You Carol right now or somethin'?"

Rogue rolled her eyes. 

"No. Carol's just 'bout silent these days, thank you." 

"But you're smilin'…"

"You seen me smile, Cajun. Just don't normally do it at you." 

"You like that with all your students?"

"I dunno. You ain't happy to see yours?"

"Huh. Guess I am."

"Maybe I should take you to the infirmary. Mighta had a stroke or somethin'."

Remy shook his head absently, mentally noting that he usually would have had a joke about stroking lined up.

"Still with me?"

"Huh?"

"I was sayin' you can just ask me if you wanna join."

"Join what?"

"In the danger room. I will say yes sometimes."

"Vraiment?"

"Not sayin' I won't try to kill you."

He felt himself finally coming to. 

He grinned. 

"You wanna spar, don't you?"

"Your funeral, sugar." 

"I'll take that bet." 

Remy sat at the cafe, swirling his coffee in his cup. The place was small, but they had table service, and this particular table had good sightlines in case anyone decided to creep up. 

Almost as important, they had good coffee. Which was a requirement. 

Christophe was a capable thief, and if anyone in the Guild needed information, he was the one to find it. He was known for being incredibly cheerful, sometimes even seeming guilty when sharing news of tragedies, as though he were to blame. He was so jovial that some of the younger thieves called him Nonc Christophe, though not to him directly. 

Remy had the added bonus of considering Christophe a dear friend, though until Remy was allowed safely back in New Orleans, their time together would be limited. 

Today, Christophe was running behind, which was not like him, but Remy didn't mind having the time to himself. 

He felt strangely dazed. 

Don't she look gorgeous, Mr. LeBeau? She's such a sweetheart. 

You want me to throw this damn bus at you?

I know all 'bout what you do with that mouth.

And here he’d thought of himself as a many-sided coin...

"Remy!"

Remy looked up, his grin widening, as Christophe hurried his way. 

Remy held out his hands, and Christophe ran a frenzied hand through his hair. 

"Je sais. Désolé. J'aime pas d'être en retard!" [I know. I'm sorry. I don't like to be late!]

Remy waved it away, and the two men embraced, Remy giving the man an exaggerated kiss on the cheek, which he knew Christophe hated. 

"Arrête!"[Stop!]

Christophe shoved him away, wiping his face with his sleeve. 

"Couillon," he grumbled. [Fool.]

Remy clapped a hand on Christophe's shoulder. 

"Ça va, mon cher?" [How's it going, my dear?]

"Ça se plume." [Things are going well (literal translation: It plucks)]

"Moi aussi." [Me too].

The men settled into their seats. 

"Hi there," said a voice behind them. "Can I get you something to drink?"

Both men turned to see a smiling waitress. 

Instantly, Christophe turned on the charm. 

"Ma chérie, you could bring me anything, and I would not object."

She looked like she was going to fan herself. 

"Oh. There are two of you. Wow. Well. For now, can I offer you a coffee?"

"Oui. S'il vous plaît. And we are happy to have you join us if you wish."

She grinned running into someone as she walked away. 

"Gonna have to do a lil work first, bougre." 

"Je sais. Gotta admit, this one surprised me, Remy." 

"Pourquoi?"

"Lotta mystery 'round this one, but you lift up the rocks, there don't seem to be much hidin' there, really." 

"Meanin' she's nothin' t'worry 'bout?"

Christophe held up his hands. 

"That's for you to decide." 

The waitress placed a cup of coffee next to Christophe, only spilling part of it. 

He took her hand, giving it a kiss. 

"Merci, mon coeur." 

Once she was gone, Remy snorted. 

"And people say I lay it on thick." 

"Oui. They do. And they right. So you got no business lookin' at me like that."

Remy rolled his eyes. 

"Mais, raconte-moi de tes nouvelles. What you mean 'not much hidin' there'?" [But tell me your news. What you mean 'not much hidin' there'?]

Christophe conjured a briefcase from under the table, and he pulled out an envelope. 

Remy took the envelope, quickly scanning the area around them and then pulling out some photos. 

He cocked his head. 

"I know she was with the Brotherhood."

"Oui. But you know why?" 

Remy shook his head. 

"Non. That been the strange part. Don't seem like the type." 

"Don't think she woulda been."

Remy furrowed his brow. 

"Comment?"

"Keep lookin'."

Remy flipped through the photos. They showed an increasingly younger Rogue beside the two women who were the brains of the Brotherhood of Evil Mutants. 

The Brotherhood had been started by Erik Lenscherr a.k.a. Magneto, who was now off doing other shady dealings. But it lived on and was now run by Raven Darkhölme, and more peripherally, her wife Irene Adler. Raven was a shapeshifter, known as Mystique to the mutant community. Likewise, Irene was a powerful precog, known to many only as Destiny. 

Supposedly the current incarnation of the Brotherhood merely provided training in self-defense, help with developing powers safely for mutants who wanted to increase their skill. At the actual heart of the Brotherhood was another team of misfit mutants, though this bunch had goals of mutant supremacy couched as protection that they took care not to advertise. Unlike the X-Men, this team was willing to cause harm in the name of justice, look away when non-mutants were in danger if it meant that mutants were kept safe. 

There were ongoing rumors that the Brotherhood was often guided by Destiny's visions, but she was getting older, and her visions were supposed to be increasingly scrambled. 

"Hmm. These just show she was with 'em a long time. Looks young in these." 

"She was.”

“Brotherhood really start ‘em this young?”

“Non. Ain’t like the Guild. We got a lot more tradition. Family. Brotherhood ain't usually that way, from what I gathered." 

"So why it happen with her?"

"Well, for that, we gotta do a bit o' story time."

Christophe cracked his knuckles, and Remy rolled his eyes indulgently. 

“Here we go.”

Christophe always loved this part. 

"Way back, a tiny town in Caldecott County, Mississippi, had a situation with a girl named Anna Marie they thought might be a mutie."

"Mutant," Remy corrected. "Don't forget who you're talkin' to." 

"Désolé. This mut- girl 'pparently sucked the life outta another kid, and not in the good way."

Remy bit back a smile. 

"Guess the boy still in a coma now. They act like he some sorta local hero for lyin' there. I guess after it happened, the girl ran and was hidin' in the woods with a shotgun. Damn good shot, too, apparently," Christophe chuckled. 

"Alright…"

"So around that time, the one called Mystique brings home a girl calling herself Rogue."

"We know-"

Christophe held up a hand.

He pulled a small piece of paper out of his pocket and handed it to Remy. 

Remy read aloud, "'From deep in the woods, a child of great power shall come forth, ushering a reunion of enemies and the demise of humankind.' Sacre coeur. The hell is this?"

"The wife. The one who sees things. She been a mess a long time. Havin' visions s'posedly, but they're all nonsense. 'Til this one. They're livin' in another part o' Mississippi at this point, and they hear 'bout this girl Anna Marie and think maybe this vision's 'bout her."

A child of great power. 

Rogue definitely had great power now. 

"So she joined because of a vision?"

"Sounds like she joined because she wanted a home. And a family. Prob'ly woulda been fine just bein' Anna Marie Darkhölme. But sounds like the vision's the only reason they picked 'er."

"You know any more 'bout this power she's s'posed to have?"

"Guessin' you know more 'bout that." 

"If it is her." 

"Only person can tell you for sure is her. But sounds like Mystique thought she could use this girl's powers like a weapon. Could make her into anybody who could do anythin'." 

Remy nodded. 

Sure could. 

"Startin' with killin' Carol Danvers."

"Oui."

"Why'd you do it?" he'd asked her. 

"My mama made me think I had to." 

"Your contacts say anythin' 'bout why she did it?"

Christophe snorted. 

"Sure did. Her mères kept her real damn sheltered. Don't know if they didn't want anyone t'know 'bout her, or didn't want her to know what they were up to. Guess she was real trustin', ‘specially with those two. Other team members were sick o' havin' her around. She was always askin' to go along when they did their evil mutant shit. Sounds t'me like she wanted to prove herself.” 

"So that's why?"

"Apparently the team was told Carol was a threat to them, 'specially to the girl and her mères. Team members took that to mean to watch out for her. Girl thought it meant they'd only be safe if she took 'er down. Guess there was a big fight o' mut- mutants, and Carol was gonna be there. Girl managed to convince the blue mère-"

"Mystique."

"Mystique- to let 'er tag along. Part o' me wonders if that was the plan all 'long, but nobody knows for sure 'bout that. Either way, girl thought she was helpin', and somethin' went wrong." 

Remy furrowed his brow. 

"What went wrong?"

Christophe shrugged. 

"Not sure. But a few people said just that. Guess takin' Carol down meant the girl got to see everythin' in Carol's head. Includin' the Brotherhood bein' a threat to her and not the other way 'round. Story is that she confronted her mères, and they admitted everythin'. Even 'bout the vision."

Fuck. 

"Imagine bein' told somethin' like that," Christophe chuckled mirthlessly. "Surprised she ain't turned into Godzilla." 

"Non. Instead she's actin' sweet as hell with her students." 

Christophe raised his eyebrows. 

"Oh, is she? You got somethin' to tell me?"

Remy rolled his eyes. 

"I mean she's not actin' angry at all. Well, not with them. Threatenin' to kill me all the damn time." 

"And you always liked that, too. Hmm..." 

"Arrête. You're missin' the point. She's not tellin' anyone what happened. Why wouldn't she be shoutin' that from the rooftops?" 

"Maybe she feels worse 'bout what she done than what her mères done." 

"That enough to keep quiet?"

"Would you keep quiet?"

Remy guessed he would. Unless there was some benefit to coming forward. 

"Just feels like she's walkin' round lettin' the world think she's somethin' she ain't."

"I'm familiar with that kinda person," Christophe said pointedly. 

"I'm exactly the kinda person people think I am. Or worse." 

Christophe shrugged. 

"Maybe the girl feels the same way." 

"Maybe. But she ain't like me." 

"Non?"

Remy narrowed his eyes at Christophe, who gave him an unrepentant grin. 

"Just sayin'… Awful lotta interest in this femme for no reason." 

"Not no reason. I’m makin' sure she's safe to have on the team." 

"Uh huh," Christophe said dubiously. 

"Why we friends again?"

Christophe's grin widened. 

"You know where she went after that? Since leavin' the Brotherhood? That was all still a while ago."

"Off the grid." 

"Vraiment?"

Christophe nodded. 

"How?"

"No idea. But it's like she didn't exist for all that time. Not ‘til recently."

Where the hell…?

"And if even I can't find her…" Christophe was saying. 

Remy nodded. 

"Then she was really off the grid." 

"Oui." 

Christophe held out a hand. 

"All I got for now. Thumb drive with all that in there. Destroy it and the photos when you done."

"I know the drill."

Remy shook Christophe's hand, but then he stood, wrapping him in a bear hug. 

"Gonna have to visit more often, cher." 

"Oui. Would if I could." 

"You'll tell me what I owe you?" 

"Just invite me to the weddin'." 

"Can't stand you." 

Christophe smiled, clapping Remy on the shoulder. 

"I'll be in touch." 

With that, Christophe left as speedily as he came. 

Rogue entered her room, flipping on the light and—apparently—getting the shock of her life. 

"Jesus Christ!"

"Just me, petite, but you can call me whatever you want." 

Remy had draped himself across the easy chair she had shoved in the corner, but he spun to face her. 

He gave his wrist an exaggerated glance. 

"You're home late, petite." 

She rolled her eyes. 

"What are you, my daddy?"

"You want me to be?"

"Gambit, I'm countin' to ten in my head, and then I'm-"

"Don't you wanna know why I'm here?"

"No, I don't. We got a mission tonight. Want you gone so I can shower."

"I can help?"

"No!"

"Shame."

"Gambit-"

"Remy."

"Remy, don't push your luck."

She was in a sports bra and leggings, likely sweaty from a danger room session that had—for once—not included him. 

Apparently he was staring, because she gave him an amused look. 

"Sweaty mess does it for you, huh?"

"You do it for me, petite. But you already know that." 

She rolled her eyes, walking toward the bathroom. 

"You mind showing yourself out?"

"Why aren't you tellin' the team the truth?"

She stopped in her tracks. 

"What are you talkin' 'bout?"

"You could clear things up real easy, but you're not." 

She blinked at him. 

"You drunk or somethin'?"

He had to bite back a smile. 

"Non. But I did a lil diggin'. Your mères lied to you." 

Her jaw hit the floor. 

"What?"

"That's why you killed Carol. They tricked you."

She clenched her jaw, and for a moment, he thought she wouldn't say anything. 

"Yes. They did." 

He nodded. 

"And it's none o' your damn business."

"That why you're not tellin' the team? It's no one's business?"

"No. I fought and lost that battle way too many times. Don't matter what I say." 

"But they're treatin' you like you're a murderer, when-" 

"I am a murderer." 

"You know what I mean."

"They got a dead friend, and my powers are livin' proof o' that. Don't matter what I thought I was doin'. " 

"Sure it does." 

"You told me you killed plenty o' people in your time. You think it would matter if you tried to save them?" 

Something about that sent a chill down his spine. 

Did she know something?

"Comment?"

She shrugged. 

"When you done somethin' terrible, it don't matter what good you got in your heart. Not to most people." 

"So you're just gonna take it? You could clear your name."

She raised an eyebrow. 

"You gonna tell me why you care? Or why you been 'diggin' in the first place?"

"Tryin' to figure out if we can trust you." 

She snorted. 

"Oh really? How'd you like if I returned the favor?"

“Not sure why you would.”

That made her snort.

“Thought you’d be a better liar.”

“Pourquoi?”

“Don’t the Thieves Guild teach y’all ‘bout bein’ shifty?”

He felt his eyebrows go up.

How the hell was he on the back foot?

"What, you think I wouldn't also try to figure out who I'm workin' with?” She gave him a wry look. "I'll admit. Been hard to read everyone’s files real close with Carol in my head, but even I can see where you come from. And that you got a real big gap in your file as well."

"You didn't want to look for more?"

"Who says I didn't?"

"Did you?"

She shook her head. 

"Been a lil busy, Cajun. Not to mention, I like to give people the benefit o' the doubt. Least in that way." 

“Even me?”

“I shouldn’t.”

“Non?”

“With the way you been stickin’ your nose where it don’t belong? Should be drivin’ over you with a damn excavator.”

That made him snort.

“Not to mention you’re a lot smarter’n you look. Or act.”

“Am I?”

“Maybe not right now.”

That made him grin.

“Still, might be worth lookin’ into,” she added.   

Well, that wasn’t good.

“You ain’t worried I’m dangerous?”

“Ha. No.”

“Coulda waited a second to answer,” he grumbled.

"People are complicated. Don't mean I trust 'em with everythin'. But I also don't start by assumin' everyone's a monster. Even you, sugar." 

"Why not?"

"Most people ain't only the worst thing they've done."

Hmm. 

Weren't they?

He flashed to caves full of screaming, bleeding, terrified people. Claws slashing at him. A little girl begging to be left alone even as he tried to drag her to safety. 

Wasn't he defined by that and all the other terrible things he'd done?

He realized she was still speaking. 

"Don't you worry 'bout me, Gambit. Whatever people gonna think, I can take it. I got small shoulders, but they're real strong." 

He could see that. 

"Remy."

"Huh?"

"Remy Etienne LeBeau."

"I know your name, Cajun. Been sayin' it to me enough." 

"Now you know my full name."

"Alright…"

"Why don't you go by Anna Marie?"

"Anna Marie Darkhölme don't exist no more. Died right alongside Carol." 

"She could."

Rogue shook her head. 

"Just the Rogue now, sugar. Never gonna get to be more than that."

Remy looked around, wondering if he could snag a drink. He knew Ororo would lecture him, but there were waiters walking around with shimmering champagne flutes, and it would be suspicious if none of them took one. 

Right?

He snagged one for each of them as another waiter made an appearance, and he handed one to Ororo. 

"For you, mademoiselle."

Ororo took the glass, shaking her head at him. 

"We should not be drinking, Remy. We are working."

"Just blendin' in, chere."

He clinked his glass against hers before taking a sip. 

"Not bad."

Ororo tried hers and nodded. 

"You are right."

"See. Almost like a real night out."

He saw a flash of green next to them and looked up to see Rogue gliding past them. 

Holy fuck. 

She'd been in her coat on the Blackbird, but apparently she was wearing something underneath that might have been a second skin. Her hands were covered, and she wore only two bangles for jewelry, but the simplicity was stunning. 

Doesn't need a damn thing else. 

Her makeup in Jean's photo had also been simple, but it was just enough to accentuate her features and complement the dress. 

Did she have any idea how gorgeous she was?

"Remy?"

"Hmm?"

"I was asking if you had seen anything that might be useful."

Useful for what?

"Comment?"

"Remy, we are here on a mission."

"Oui. I know."

"That does not mean staring at Rogue."

Was he?

"Not starin'. Just wonderin' where she got that dress. Fits her like a glove."

"I do not believe it comes in your size, Remy."

He gave her a wink. 

"Never know." He continued to watch Rogue. "She really don't seem to notice no one watchin' her."

"Perhaps she expects it so it does not phase her."

"Just might. She's really somethin' else." 

"Pardon?"

"Not what I expected, is all." 

Ororo gave him an odd look. 

"I see that." 

Rogue leaned against a wall, scanning the room. 

She had to admit, her dress had been an important piece of strategy, though she hated that it worked. 

People were tripping over themselves to look at her. 

That always made her feel a mix of discomfort, gratification, and something she couldn't quite place. Maybe disappointment in other people for being so easily swayed? Anger that this was often her best means of getting what she wanted?

She sometimes wondered what the rambunctious, roguish child who crossed the river on a wobbly log, went for long hikes so that she could stare at the stars, and stole candy from Mrs. Wilchester's candy bowl would think of her now. 

Probably wouldn't recognize myself. 

Was it that way for everyone? Or were only she and people like her destined to grow to be miles away from the person they expected to be?

"Why don't you go by Anna Marie?" Gambit—Remy—had asked her. 

"Anna Marie Darkhölme don't exist no more. Died right alongside Carol." 

"She could."

"Just the Rogue now, sugar. Never gonna get to be more than that."

Was that really true?

Every time she tried to let a bit of herself out, something crushed her spirit, made her remember why it was always safest to hide her heart. 

Rogue hadn't been doing that with her students, though. Somehow, she thought she had, but Xavier saw the way she was with them, as did their parents. Jean even seemed to see it, though she hadn't said anything. 

And then Gambit had in the hall. 

She felt her blood pressure go up.

When all this is over, gonna need to ask him a bit more why he's puttin' his nose where it don't belong.

She looked over in his direction and was surprised to find that he was watching her. 

That surprise quickly turned into annoyance, as it often did when he was involved. 

She made a face at him. 

Can I help you?

He grinned back, taking a sip of a drink he probably shouldn't be drinking. 

Why did he even care what she shared with people? 

Not like he shares all his secrets, she grumbled inwardly. Might need to do a little diggin' on him just to show him what it's like.

He did have a very memorable name. 

Maybe I can find something on him and then tell him how to live his damn life. 

Rogue scanned the room again, and then time seemed to stop, and ice flooded her veins. 

Oh fuck.

Any ire she had been feeling was replaced by a desperate need to flee. 

Remy felt a hand on his arm, and he looked up to find Rogue next to him. 

He gave her a cheeky grin. 

"Wondered if you'd ever-" He cut himself off. 

She looked panicked. 

"What?"

"I need you to hide me."

"Comment?"

"Please. I'll explain later."

He nodded. 

They were right next to the dance floor, and he swept her into his arms. 

"Allons danser."

"What?"

She gasped, doing her best to follow along. 

He tucked her head against him, being careful not to touch her skin. 

"Who we hidin' from?"

"Someone by the entrance."

"An ex or somethin'?"

He spun them, facing her away. And then he felt his chest go rigid. 

"Well, how 'bout that…"

Standing near the entrance was a man with shocking white hair and a sneer that could probably be seen from the moon. 

Erik Lenscherr. 

Magneto.

Remy could almost respect the man's commitment to being a supervillain, which he appeared to embrace in both look and lifestyle. Almost. 

"How 'bout what?" Rogue stammered. 

"You really tryin' to bullshit a bullshitter?"

"No, I-"

"Magneto."

"Right."

"He here 'cause of you?"

"What? No."

"Then what's he doin' lookin' this way?"

He could feel her agitation. She seemed to both want to run and hide against him. 

"I don't know."

"Right. You got a few more secrets than I even realized, petite."

For some reason that appeared to annoy her. 

"You ever heard how secrets work?"

"I could spin us 'round real easy you keep talkin' like that."

"Please don't. Please."

He pulled back slightly to look her in the eye. 

"You alright?" 

"Stop askin'." 

"Anna!" a voice called. 

Rogue was trying and failing to control her breathing. 

Lenscherr approached, his grin affable, though it didn't reach his eyes. 

"Hello, dearest. I see you're wearing the dress I gave you."

Rogue tensed next to him, and Remy noticed that she seemed willing to look anywhere but at him. 

"It is from a sort of ex."

"He thinks if he gives me gifts, I'll-"

"Gifts you didn't want?"

"Gifts with strings I didn't want."

"You said you were going to send it back," Lenscherr continued. 

"Well, it turned out to be useful for somethin'."

"It is. You look good enough to eat."

"I told you don't talk to me like that."

"I'm just being honest, love." He turned to Remy. "I don't think we've met."

"Non."

"Erik Lenscherr."

He held out a hand, which Remy ignored. 

"I know who you are."

"Hmm. I suppose you're her new beau."

"Oh no, he-" Rogue started.

Remy cut her off. 

"Oui. I am." 

He put a hand on the small of her back. 

Rogue stared at him, clearly perplexed. 

"I see. It doesn't bother you that you can't touch her?"

"I am standin' right here, Erik," she snapped, a little of her usual fire clearly remaining. 

"Non. It doesn't."

"Hmm."

Lenscherr reached out as if to stroke her face, but she gripped his wrist.

"Don't." 

Lenscherr ignored her, continuing to talk to Remy. 

"Did she tell you I'm the only one who can?"

"Oui. She did. But that don't matter to us." 

Remy turned to look at her, giving her a small smile. 

"We make it work, non, ma chérie?"

"I-"

"Do you?" Lenscherr asked, not quite looking like he believed Remy. 

"Sure do."

It was probably a bad idea, but Remy gave Rogue a wink, sliding his hand down to land on her ass. 

Her eyes widened at that, and she was clearly seconds away from slugging him. 

He leaned down to place a kiss on the crown of her head. 

"She's worth it."

Rogue's jaw dropped. 

Lenscherr nodded, smiling coldly. 

"Well, give it time." 

"I plan to." 

"Right. I'll let the two of you enjoy your evening. I hope to see you soon, Anna."

He walked away. 

Rogue waited until Lenscherr was gone, and then she delivered a swift jab to Remy's stomach. 

"What the hell?"

"I should be askin' you that, petite." 

Rogue seemed to deflate like a popped balloon.

She was too young to be world-weary. 

People probably said that about him, too.

He realized that her hands were shaking. 

"Hey, he's gone now. Why you still-"

"I'm fine." 

"Rogue." 

He gave her arm a reassuring rub. 

"Don't touch me!" she snapped. 

He held up his hands. 

"Désolé." 

After a moment, she blew out a breath. 

"I'm sorry." 

"S'alright."

"Why did you help me?"

He shrugged. 

"We're teammates." 

"Right. Well, thank you." 

She turned to walk away. 

"Un moment."

She stopped, heaving out a sigh. 

"What?"

"Whatever the two o' you got goin' on-"

"Nothin' is goin' on," she spat. 

"Then whatever you had goin' on, you gotta tell the team." 

"It's no one's business." 

"Chere, you don't tell 'em yourself, I'm gonna have to." 

"Oh really? What are you gonna say?"

"Gonna tell them everythin' that happened just now. And if you don't say nothin', they gonna make up their own minds 'bout what they hear." 

"They will anyway." 

"All the same. You wanna stay on the team, you know you have to." 

"You threatenin' me?"

"You know I'm not."

"Do I?"

He reached out again, as if to put a hand on her arm. 

"I said don't touch me!"

He held up his hands again. 

"Sorry. Rogue-"

"Just leave me alone." 

He stared after her as she hurried out of the room. 

He should really leave her alone like she'd asked. Or maybe he should follow her and demand that she tell him what the hell was going on. For all he knew, she was going to look for Lenscherr, or even leave altogether. 

He felt a hand on his arm and looked up. 

Ororo. 

"They know each other." It wasn't even a question. 

He nodded. 

"Seems so." 

"Where is she going?"

"Don't know. That's the first time I ever seen her look scared." 

"As I suggested, she may be a better actress than we realize." 

"Maybe. The way he was actin' with her… Wasn't like they were workin' together."

"That you could tell." 

"Told me he's the only person who can touch her."

Ororo furrowed her brow. 

"He even tried to touch her without askin'." 

"Yes, more than one person has this evening," Ororo said meaningfully. 

Fuck. So had he. 

"Told her she has to tell the team. Whatever it is."

"Do you think she will?"

He shrugged. 

"Guess we'll see." 

Chapter Text

CHAPTER 5: STUPID

Rogue hugged her coat tightly around her. This dress was really too thin for this coat. She had been cold earlier, even with the engine running and heat blowing in her direction. 

Now her teeth were practically chattering. 

Shouldn't invulnerability protect against cold? she grumbled inwardly. 

She felt a coat wrap around her shoulders and started. She looked up into a pair of concerned red and black eyes. 

She studied the coat, surprised. 

When had everyone else arrived?

Had she just been lost in her thoughts?

In a way, that was a victory. She and her thoughts hadn't been alone together for a long time. 

Just these thoughts ain't such good ones. 

"Could see you shiverin' the second we got on the Blackbird."

"Sorry." 

"No need to be sorry. Any better now?"

Gambit fixed the coat collar. 

"Thank you." 

"Half expected you to take off."

"I'm sure you weren't the only one."

She could practically feel the various sets of eyes on her. 

"You alright?"

"Gambit, you don't have to keep helpin' me."

"Remy. I'm happy to help. 'Sides, that's what friends are for."

"I don't have any friends. And I'm not sure I even like you."

"That's fine. Got plenty o' friends who don't like me."

She snorted. 

"Wouldn't go 'round advertising that, Cajun."

She scraped her shoe against the floor of the plane. 

"You really didn't already know?" 

"Know 'bout what?"

"Erik. Magneto. And me."

He shook his head. 

She eyed him suspiciously. 

"Even with all that 'diggin'?"

"Non. Contact said you went off the grid."

"Huh. Guess the Savage Land counts as off the grid." 

Ah. 

Remy nodded. 

"Oui, it does. That where you met?"

She nodded. 

"Sure is." 

Everyone walked into the meeting room, all still in evening wear. 

Rogue glided in, though her expression was that of someone who knew she was walking to her execution. 

She sat, her head held surprisingly high, and everyone took their seats around her. 

"We're gonna need to know what that was, kid." Logan held up a hand, effectively silencing Scott. "Before anyone says anything else."

Rogue nodded. 

"I know."

"You called it 'intel'?"

"Couldn't think o' a better word."

"Are you and Erik Lenscherr working together?" Ororo's voice was cold. 

Rogue gave her a mirthless smile. 

"No."

"You are connected in some way, though. Why didn't you share?"

"Because it's nobody's business." 

"Unfortunately, it's team business now," Scott said firmly. 

"We gotta know if there's any more skeletons fixin' to jump outta your closet, chere."

"You got any more fixin' to jump outta yours, Cajun?" she snapped before turning back to the others. 

She shook her head at him. 

"You think I'm compromised." It wasn't a question.

"Not necessarily. But you see why we might think that?" Scott pointed out. 

She nodded. 

"I'm not."

He was surprised she hadn't ground her molars to dust. 

"Erik. Magneto. He's the only person in the world who can touch me." 

Remy saw some eyebrows go up around the room. 

"We met in the Savage Land. It was a lil while after I left the Brotherhood. I was all on my own. Then, he found me. It was a bad situation. I didn't know it at the time. Should have, but I didn't. Which I should really get on a T-shirt. Always been told I'm a lil too trustin', and I was lonely and scared. And he was nice to me at just the right time." She shrugged. "My powers weren't workin' there, and then he figured out he could do somethin' with his powers anyway that even when mine came back…"

"Hang on. You-" Bobby began. 

"Yes. We did." 

Rogue stared him down, her jaw set. 

"I don't talk 'bout it. Ever. 'Specially to a team o' people I barely know."

"But you understand-"

"Yes, I understand. "

Remy snuck glances at the people around him. A few faces were still skeptical, but he also saw some expressions softening, even some beginning to guess where this might be going. 

"He knew exactly what to tell me. The way some people tell their kids they're the best at vacuumin' or somethin' so the kid does it. I fell for it hook, line, and sinker. I thought I was real special. Course I was. No one else was there but us. Still, listenin' to him talk, bein' 'round him more. Couldn't keep noticin' only the good. Even when he has ideas that start out like they make sense, he's a terrible person. He was a terrible person to me. I wanted to stop." She gritted her teeth. "He didn't." 

Remy heard a few gasps around him. 

"Didn't have my super strength back yet. I guess y'all wouldn't call it mine," she said bitterly. "So maybe y'all don't think I had a right to, but I couldn't protect myself the way I can now. It was like that for a long time." 

Fuck. 

Rogue cleared her throat, fidgeting with one of her bangles. 

"Got out as soon as there was a chance. He kept findin' me no matter where I went. Kept sendin' me shit like it would get me to come back. This dress was all I kept. Shoulda sent it back, too. Not even sure why I didn't."

Her eyes were red, but she seemed to be defying tears to fall. 

"Ain't seen him in a long time. 'Til tonight." 

She blew out a long breath. 

"Don't think he was there tonight 'cause o' me, but I got no idea what he's up to. Saw him and just wanted to hide."

"It is a good thing Gambit was able to help you."

"Yes. I appreciated it." She clenched her fists, as though girding herself. "I'm guessin' most o' y'all don't believe half o' this. But it's the truth. And if you do believe me, you can see why I don't much like talkin' bout it." 

"Does Charles know?" Jean asked. 

"Hasn't said anythin' 'bout it to me. But he must know, seein' as he's been inside my head. I know y'all will probably ask him. If he puts up a fuss, tell him I said he can share."

Past (Savage Land)

"There you are, dearest," Erik looked up, glancing behind Rogue at the orange and purple sky. "It's getting late. I was worried."

"Sorry 'bout that. Musta been dawdlin' without realizin' it. Didn't do anythin' different." She snorted. "Maybe Carol wanted to go on a walk." 

She hung their wet clothing on a makeshift clothesline. 

"Least we'll have somethin' to wear tomorrow." 

"I rather like it this way." He grinned at her. 

They'd been naked together before, always on washing day, but passing time had shifted something in the air. 

Erik hadn't said anything about it, but she could see the way he looked at her, the way he stared more blatantly now. He liked touching her shoulder, stroking her hair, even putting a hand on her hip, and he was starting to let his hands linger. 

On the days when their clothing dripped dry, he would often get hard when they were just sitting and talking, though neither of them mentioned it. 

Even now, she could see that he was partially aroused, though she tried not to look, tried not to stand too close as he leaned in to kiss her. 

"You're a dear for doing that. I don't know how you do it, but they almost seem like they've been through a washer when you do them."

"Oh. I just give 'em a good scrub on the rocks. Just takes a lil elbow grease." 

"Well, apparently it takes some magic of yours as well." 

He pointed to a small spread of fruits and nuts by the fire, as well as some sort of creature that she'd caught earlier. He'd roasted it for them, which she appreciated, and it was steaming and ready to eat. 

"Bon appétit." 

He peered into the jug they'd made to store water. 

"We're getting low on this. I'll have to take care of it tomorrow."

"No need. I already know the best spring, and it's easy enough for me to boil." 

He pulled her closer and kissed her again. 

"You're so precious. I hope you know that."

Her face felt warm. 

"Thank you." 

"Dearest, have a seat. There's something we need to talk about." 

"Alright."

She sat next to him, but he shook his head. 

He patted his lap. 

"Oh, but you're-"

"Yes, I am nude, as they say." 

She made a face. 

"As who says?"

He gave her a tap on the nose. 

"Like I said, precious." 

He patted his thigh again, and by the time she was seated on it, he was hard. 

"I know you can see what you do to me." 

She felt herself shiver. 

"We haven't talked about it before, but I wish you could understand what it's like to watch you here. This place is paradise, in its own way, but you're so beautiful, some days I can only look at you. Do you believe me?"

She studied his eyes. 

They were almost silver, they were so pale, and yet, somehow, they were vibrant and seemed to sparkle. His pupils were dilated, and he swallowed hard as he looked her up and down. 

"Has anyone ever touched you before? I know that is a complicated question with your powers." 

"No." 

He took her hand and placed it on his hard cock. 

"You feel this? This is what you do to me. All the time. Sometimes looking at you is almost enough to get me all the way."

"I don't believe that," she giggled. 

"Why would I lie?"

He moved her hand to his tip, which was leaking, and he swirled her fingertips against him before pulling her hand up. 

"Taste me. I want to see it." 

She looked him in the eye again, licking her finger and putting on when she guessed was a seductive face. 

"Incredible." 

He moved her hand back down, guiding her and showing her how to stroke him. 

He grinned. 

"You're a natural." 

"Yeah?"

He nodded. 

"You can already tell—ungh—just what I like." 

She swirled her fingertips against his tip again, and he groaned. 

He pulled her in, kissing her harder. 

He stood, startling her. 

They had created a sort of platform, a sort of makeshift shelf, and he swept the few things sitting on it onto the ground. 

He placed her onto the platform, spreading her knees as wide as they would go. 

"What are you-"

"I want to look at you, dearest."

He stared unabashedly. 

"Do you ever touch yourself? You can, you know, while you're here with me. If you ever start to feel wet, I won't mind if you touch yourself. You could put your fingers inside yourself and feel what it's like. I bet your pussy is nice and tight, too. I think we should make sure she is good and wet, don't you?"

Her face felt warm at that. 

She looked away, feeling shy and embarrassed. 

She probably shouldn’t, but she did.

"Don't be shy, dearest. You're beautiful." 

He stroked her gently with a finger, and she yelped. 

"Shh. It's alright. We'll figure out just what you like. Do you trust me?"

She nodded. 

He slid a finger inside her, beginning to pump it slowly in and out. 

"I knew you'd be wet and tight. Dearest, you're soaking."

Was she?

She could feel her heart pounding. 

She guessed this felt… good? It didn't hurt, but it felt strange. 

"You can't imagine what you look like." 

He leaned down, capturing one of her nipples and sucking hard. 

"Mmmm so good," he moaned. "Wanted this since I found you. Mmm." 

He pulled back, looking at her face. 

"But maybe you want your pussy licked. Have you ever imagined what that might feel like?"

Again, her face felt warm. She nodded. 

"You little minx. I knew it. You think I should give her that? Would she like that?"

She bit back a sour expression. 

Her? 

Carol seemed to roll her eyes. 

Rogue nodded. 

Ain't gonna be someone who judges after choices I made. 

"Yes." Was this a sexy voice?

She figured he might start slowly, but he dove in, licking and sucking and moaning loudly. 

"You taste divine… mmmmhhh…. Heaven. I could do this all day."

He did who knows what, but this time she felt a sort of zing, and her body gave a small twitch. 

"You feel that dearest? That's your clit. Mmmmmhhhh delicious…"

He slid a finger in again, this time pumping it into her with more force. She could feel something sharp—maybe his nail—and she gasped and squirmed. 

"I recognize those sounds." 

He must be putting more fingers inside her because she felt more pressure, not quite to the point of pain, but close. 

Suddenly he yanked his fingers out, making her gasp. 

He tossed her onto the ground, spreading her knees, and driving into her in one thrust. 

She cried out in surprise and gritted her teeth. 

He pounded into her from above, making the same sorts of noises that a stray terrier in Caldecott County always made when he knocked up Mrs. Wilchester's poodles. 

"Fuck. You feel so good. Fuck."

He flipped her onto her knees suddenly, and she felt like a rotisserie chicken. 

This angle did hurt, and she clenched her fists. Each time she cried out, he went harder, and when she shifted forward to reduce the impact, he tugged her back. 

"You're so beautiful like this. Mmmmhhh. Tell me how much you like this, dearest. I want to hear you." 

She groaned in pain, but it worked for him. 

"Let's make you come, love. That pussy's been working hard today. Let's make her come." 

He sat up, lifting her and impaling her with his cock. Before she'd even settled, his hands were on her hips, and he was bouncing her up and down. One of his hands was rubbing the spot he'd called her clit, and she felt the sharp point again. 

"Come on, love. That pussy wants to be happy. Come on." 

Rogue didn't know exactly how to help it with that, but she decided she'd copy a scene she'd seen in a movie once, and she clenched around him really tightly, since maybe that was what he was expecting. 

"Yesssss…. Dearest…. Yessss…. That's just what she wants. Yes, ride me just like that. Yesssssss."

After a moment, he tossed her onto her back again, slamming against her and making more terrier noises in her ear. 

"You're so beautiful—unghhh—yessss." 

Finally, he shuddered and groaned loudly, and then he went boneless on top of her. 

She stared at the ceiling of their makeshift tent. 

Hmm. 

He suddenly pulled back. 

"Sorry, love. I just couldn't hold back. You felt too good." 

"Huh?"

Oh fuck. 

"I tried to pull out in time, but you felt so good, I couldn't." 

"Oh. Well. That's alright." 

She bit the inside of her cheek. 

It wasn't really alright, but if she said that, what then? 

He pulled her onto his lap. 

"I'll be more careful next time, love. I know you like to be responsible." 

"Okay. Thank you." 

It occurred to her that Carol had quieted down, which was unusual. Still, she felt something settling in her belly, a tightness in her chest. Like she was disappointed, disgusted. With herself, but also not with herself. 

"How are you feeling? Flushed, I see. I'll take that to mean you enjoyed yourself."

She mentally shook herself, smiling, nodding.

"You're very good at that for a beginner. Like I said, truly a natural. Something tells me you'll be a natural in other ways as well." 

She felt a wave of pride crashing through her. 

It was so damn rare that anyone thought she was good at something. 

And somehow she was good at this. 

Stupid girl, someone said inside her head.

She ignored them.

Rogue's awakening came slowly. 

But she had always been accused of that. Trusting too early, too deeply. Always the wrong people. Always overlooking the bad. 

She couldn't do that forever. Not here, where there were no distractions. No other people. 

And there was always Carol. Shouting at her, occasionally shouting at him. She could ignore her sometimes, knew by now that Carol often briefly faded away when Erik was inside her. 

Rogue thought she probably enjoyed it. She didn’t hate it. Though they often kept going until she felt raw. And he enjoyed himself, and she was good at making him feel good, and that counted for something, didn't it?

Sex at least felt better when she finally learned to come, and it made more sense to her why he loved it so much. 

The easiest times were really when she felt like she was watching herself from above, like it wasn't her who was there. Though sometimes she realized it was Carol he was inside, not her. Those were the times when she fought and screamed at him, times when his face held a different sort of gratification. It was painful to watch, seeing that happen to someone else. Someone that was her, but also not her. It was a very slight relief and a source of shame for not stepping in. 

Stupid girl. 

The words seemed to ring in her head. So often that they meant nothing. 

Until they did. 

Rogue began to see a pattern. She had apparently been a “natural” in all manner of things. Every sort of chore, every sort of sex. Everything he didn't want to do, everything that made him feel good. He heaped praise on her when she was sucking and jerking him off, riding him, fucking him with her fingers, being pounded into from behind. She was always "tight and wet for him," even when he struggled to push inside her because her body had finally decided to rebel. She was even a “natural” at kissing him, apparently, which they could never quite get right. 

Was she even good at anything at all? As usual, it might very well have everything to do with her being available and willing, rather than being worthy or wanted. She was so unsure whether up was up that she believed him when he insisted she was enjoying herself, even though she wasn't. And she was so tied into knots that she nodded in obsequious agreement, knowing that it was always easier when she went along. 

Still, she was learning more about herself, was starting to understand more about him.

And she was getting tired of being tossed around, rudderless in the waves. 

In a moment of ingenuity, she'd suggested that he touch himself more often, said she liked to watch him, and she'd thought she was so damn clever for finding a way to get a break. 

But he must have seen the truth on her face. 

"Here I thought you wanted me to stroke my cock for you. I even waited for you to come back from the creek." 

He spat on his hand and cocked his knee, giving himself a good stroke. 

"Did you not want to watch?"

"I do, sugar. Go right on. I'm watchin'." 

"Mmmhmm—mmm—still feels good. You haven't wanted me to fuck you as often, have you?"

She almost dropped the water jug. 

"What makes you say that?"

"You've been finding excuses. They're good ones, but still excuses. You wouldn't even touch yourself while I watched." 

"I just sometimes don't feel like it. It's nothin' more than that. I'm not even sure why." 

"Hmm. You know I'm imagining it's your hands on me. And then your mouth… It could be right now." 

"I just…"

"Love, we're going to be here a long time. I know you have needs as well as I do." He gasped. "Yes, I'm getting there. Just thinking about you. You weren't coming at first, were you?"

"Huh?"

"You do now. Even on days when you don't want to." 

"I… It isn't as easy for me." 

"I think maybe we should make you come now." 

He tugged her down, gliding his fingers between her legs. 

"Wait, I-"

"Still such a beautiful pussy." 

Sure it is…

"I think she needs a little extra attention today." 

She. 

That still made her squirm. 

He spread her knees, stroking her with his thumb. 

He had figured out by now just where to touch her, and she let out a small grunt. 

"Erik, we don't need to-"

"Look at her, love." 

He spread her knees wider, continuing to stroke her before moving on top of her. 

"See how much she wants this."

He pushed inside her, slowly rocking his hips against hers. 

"Erik, I told you-"

"Love, I'm already almost there." 

She gave his shoulders a weak shove. 

"Ah- Yes, but-"

"Shhh. Let me feel you. You're still so tight."

Rogue felt her eyes stinging, but he would just be angry if she pushed him off. 

"You're already wet for me, love. See, this is just what she needed. You want me to come for you?"

"Not inside me." 

"I know. I'll be careful." 

Truth be told, it was a miracle she hadn't gotten pregnant. 

"Unghhh—love, you feel so good around me. After this we'll make you come hard."

"No, we don't-"

"Shhh… Almost there—I- ungghhhhh-"

He collapsed on top of her, breathing heavily. 

"Sugar, we have to be careful." 

"I know. I do try. You just can't imagine how you feel." 

"It's alright." 

It wasn't. But what could she say?

"Let's spend a little time on you now." 

But he was already between her legs, lapping at her and moaning. 

"Unnnggghh you taste like me. My cock is already aching for you again, love." 

She sighed. 

"Alright." 

Rogue finally built up the courage to say no, to push him away and insist on another time. 

He grumbled about dying of sexual frustration, spoke of his needs, her needs. 

She often took her time with chores, spending hours walking and wasting time. It really was beautiful, if you knew which dinosaurs to avoid. 

She took to sitting on a warm rock by the creek and getting lost in her head. Carol seemed to enjoy that, too, and they had similar dreams of being home, of a portal opening that would get her there, of a plane coming to save her. 

She returned to the tent to find Erik gone, and she sighed with contentment. Her chores were done for now, and this was usually the time Erik bent her over something and pounded into her. With him out, she had space to breathe. 

She laid down on the makeshift bed, sighing. It wasn't terrible, this little home, considering the circumstances. 

She must have dozed off, but she woke up to heavy breathing in her ear. 

"You haven't been wet like this for me in ages."

Huh?

Erik was on top of her, inside her, thrusting into her so hard she was surprised they weren't sliding across the ground. 

“Ah!”

"That feels good, doesn't it? Your pussy's been aching for this, even when you don't realize it."

"Erik… I was sleeping."

"You were in our bed, you little minx."

She still felt groggy. 

"Wait-"

"You're dripping wet, love. I can see how good this feels."

Somehow it did feel good. She hated that. It shouldn't when she didn’t want to be doing this, but today her body had decided to betray her.

"Come on, you're almost there. Give that pussy what she wants. She's been desperate for it. Come on."

"Oh God. I-" she had to bite back a moan, but she came hard, shuddering as he continued to fuck her. 

"There we go. That's all she wanted. She's just been lonely."

"Stop. I can't anymore."

"I'm almost done. I think you've got another few in you anyway."

She did, though her legs shook, and she hated as her moans got louder each time. 

Afterwards, they laid down next to each on the little bed, him playing with her nipple like it was an old radio dial. 

"Love, I haven't enjoyed myself that much in ages. And you came more times that I can count."

"Erik, that wasn't- you have to tell me first."

"Where's the fun in that? And you loved this." 

"You have to ask me." 

He pushed her onto her back, spreading her knees and stroking her. 

"You're wet for me again. I don't think you know yourself all that well." He tapped her temple with his other hand. "Not to mention, you've got someone else in there who wants it just as much." 

She expected Carol to protest, but she was still quiet. 

Maybe even she gave up on me…

He thrust into her again, and she groaned. She was starting to feel sore. 

"See, we've barely started and you're already enjoying yourself." 

"Erik…" 

"Love, don't make me tie you to a tree."

She eyed him grumpily, foolishly thinking that was a joke.

And then she looked up at the ceiling of the tent. 

There was a tear that she needed to fix, one that she always tried to remember to fix after they were done. She never would. 

Present (X-Mansion)

By the time Rogue asked to be excused to change, the team members nodded dazedly, staring at the door that closed behind her. 

"I believe her," Betsy said immediately, her eyes red. 

Jean nodded. 

"As do I."

"You didn't sense anything suspicious?" Scott asked. 

"No." Jean shook her head firmly, swiping at her eyes. 

Scott put a hand on her back, just as Logan held a tissue box in her direction. 

She thanked both of them, dabbing at her tears. 

"Nor did I." Betsy's face was thoughtful.

"What did you sense?" 

"It was partly the intensity of all of it that struck me." Jean's face looked haunted. "But shame, sadness, fear, embarrassment, rage. Defiance, desperation."

"Resignation," Betsy finished. 

"Yes," Jean agreed. "It was almost painful." 

"Looked like she was walking the plank," Logan noted. 

"He didn't say a whole lot tonight, but all that matches up with what he did say," Remy added. 

"What did he say?" Hank asked. 

"Pretended she and I were together. Fils de putain looked me in the eye and told me he's the only person who can touch her. Asked if that bothered me, like she wasn't even there." 

"Is that when you decided to grope her?" Betsy raised an eyebrow. 

"Thought we didn't see that, huh, Cajun?"

Remy held up a hand. 

"I know. I'm gonna talk to her when we're done." 

And once she's done kickin' my ass, I'll finish the job.

"It sounds like you believe her, too, Remy?" Ororo asked. 

Remy nodded. 

"She was shakin'. Looked terrified." He looked at Ororo. "You don't believe her?"

"She has clearly been through terrible things. But she is young and pretty. She makes for a convincing tragic figure." She gave Remy a meaningful look. "And I believe some of us may be more susceptible to that than others." 

"Well, Gumbo would be easy to fool. But Jean and Bets?"

"And Charles," Jean added. 

"I admit, I trust our resident telepaths more in this case." 

Ororo gave Remy a soft smile. 

"Stormy, I'm hurt." 

"I am sorry. Though you must admit you are not always guided by your head." 

"Not the right one, anyway," Logan snorted. 

"Sounds like you've been thinkin' 'bout me, cher." 

"Remy," Ororo warned. "I do feel for her. I realize it must be that much harder for her being in a place like this. But support, sympathy, and trust do not always go hand in hand." 

"Could you sense anything more?" Bobby asked, glancing between Jean and Betsy. 

Jean raised an eyebrow. 

"Meaning did I read her thoughts without permission?"

He nodded. 

"No." 

"You don't think it would help?"

"To pry?" Betsy asked.

"Not sure any o' us would want someone roamin' 'round our heads uninvited, ice pop." 

"I'm going to speak with Charles in the morning, and anyone who wants to join me is welcome." Jean's voice was firm. "I'm not asking about anything more than her time in the Savage Land. I understand that it must feel like the stakes are high enough that her permission shouldn't matter. But it still has to. She's a member of the team, whether or not everyone likes it. We want her to trust us, too."

Betsy nodded. 

"I agree. And I still think we're better having her fight with us than against us."

"My concern is only that she may be fighting against us from within the team."

Remy must have made a face, because Ororo gave him a knowing smile. 

"I will be gentle with her, Remy. I don't mean that we should ostracize her. But we can offer support while still remaining on our guard. And I do agree with Betsy. If I am wrong—and I hope I am—she is better to have as a friend than foe." 

"If she is playing a double game, I don't think it's with Erik Lenscherr," Jean insisted. "I don't get the sense that she could stomach it."

"Blackmail?" Logan raised an eyebrow. 

Betsy shook her head. 

"No, I don't think so."

"Could she still be with the Brotherhood somehow?" Bobby asked. 

"Non," Remy heard himself respond a little too quickly. 

Ororo gave him a funny look. 

"Just don't think we need to worry 'bout that."

"No?" Ororo was still studying him closely. 

"Non."

Rogue stared at the ceiling and blew out a long breath. 

It felt incredible to be out of that dress and to be under her blankets. 

She wanted to pull them over her head and sleep for days. 

She wondered if this place would ever feel like home. If she would look at the people around her and feel safe, if they would feel the same when they looked at her. 

Both would probably happen, sooner than she expected. 

Because you're a gullible damn fool. 

She had seen sympathy in the eyes of some of her teammates, had been warmed not just by Gambit's coat, but also his kindness. 

Those things were her kryptonite. Always had been. 

She wanted so much to be wary, to read people well. She guessed she did, in a way. But she ignored red flags, managed to push them to the back of her mind until they became glaring sirens that she couldn't ignore. 

She had started a habit of doing a sort of pro/con list with people, forcing herself to notice the good and the bad together, trying to challenge the pull within herself to give in to the gratitude she felt when someone seemed to care about her. 

She had always felt so starved for that, had been so, so desperate to be noticed and cherished. She was the child in the classroom waving her hand maniacally, practically begging the teacher to call on her, aching when the teacher picked someone else. 

It had made her stupid as a child, possibly made her stupid now. But she guessed it was probably something she'd never be able to shake. 

Past (Caldecott County/Mississippi)

Anna Marie had wanted her mama—her real mama—to notice when she'd done things around the house, completed her homework, gotten a good grade. Anything. But Mama worked long hours and was tired, and she wanted to sit and put her feet up. Daddy was the same. Her last image of them was of the two of them sitting in matching La-Z-Boys, smoking, watching a rerun of 'Jerry Springer.' Well, that and her daddy walking through the woods, trying to lure her out. 

It was a sort of cruel joke that the only time anyone in Caldecott County really wanted her was when they were trying to murder her. Cody hadn't really wanted her. He'd wanted a girl to kiss him, probably have sex with him. And she was so ready to do anything to make him like her. In a way, her powers had saved her from herself in that case. 

Rogue had felt the same longing with Mama and Irene. And that had made it that much easier for them to fool her. To them, Rogue was a 'child of great power,' a puzzle piece, a pawn. They needed her powers, not her. They loved her powers, not her. 

Irene had always kept her distance, had insisted on being called Irene. Rogue wondered now if that had been an unconscious way of drawing a line between them, of keeping her heart closed. Mama was more complicated, because she had moments of warmth and moments of ice. She was protective of her, though not in the way she was protective of Irene. At times, she seemed to be almost trying to love her, but Rogue fell short, and Mama fell back into bitterness. Even when Rogue did well, it wasn't enough, and Mama's disappointment was plain. 

Mama had only looked at her with pride when she stood over Carol's dead body, Carol screaming inside her head, her memories and emotions flooding Rogue's entire being. Rogue had turned away, fallen to the ground, retching as her body tried to stop the influx of whatever this was. She finally collapsed, shuddering, had to be carried back to the jet. 

She heard Mama say something about Carol being Kree, that maybe Rogue's powers had reacted strangely to that, that maybe something had gone wrong. As Rogue felt the plane's engine vibrating the cot beneath her, she could see that Mama's pride was now accompanied by something more. It was difficult to focus long, with Carol wailing inside her, seeming to be trying to shake her, to get her to escape. It was probably just Carol trying to run, recognizing danger in the woman across from her who seemed to glow with satisfaction. 

It didn’t make her run. But it was enough to make Rogue finally start to think. She had done what her mamas wanted, and now there was someone violently scratching the inside of her skull, begging her to hide. An animal sensing danger, trying to push an injured member of the pack along. She didn't know what to make of that, but she finally let herself listen to the alarm bells. 

Rogue slept in her room, or tried, though Mama and Irene were speaking loudly in their room at the end of the hall. 

"Something went wrong, of course-"

"Naturally." 

"But it seems to have worked." 

"She does have Carol's powers now?"

"And her memories. Sometimes seems to talk like her, too. Nice to have a break from the accent,” Mama snorted. “She hasn't been awake much, though. Do we know who might be next?"

Next?

"Everything is still a jumble, love."

"I know. Do we decide on our own, or should we wait?"

"It may be that the fates guide us in practice rather than words." 

"Meaning we may choose correctly if we pick someone?"

"You've always known me well." 

"I wish you'd been there. It may have been the first time her training occurred to her. She fought dirty, too, which I like to see. I think I'll remember Carol's face until the day I die." 

So would Rogue. 

I wonder when they last washed these sheets. 

Huh?

Rogue shifted. 

Oh right. 

She felt Carol scanning the room, listening and studying the window, trying to decide when to leap out. 

Don't you dare, she told herself. 

It wasn't safe here. 

"Rogue?"

Mama and Irene were standing in front of her. 

When had they come into the room?

Her fingers began to twitch, and again, she studied the window. 

Fly. 

Don't even think about it. 

"How are you feeling, love?" Mama asked. 

"Mama says it was quite an adventure for you." 

Quite an adventure. 

The way people talk to a toddler about finding a nice rock in the backyard. 

"Yes." 

You murderers. 

Uh. 

"That was a stupid decision, you monsters!" Carol shouted. 

No, she shouted. 

"Ah. I see," Irene said, unphased. 

"You really don't think the Avengers will come after you?" Rogue spat. 

"I am hoping they do," Mama purred. 

"Dearest, it isn't really Carol." 

"Don't listen to her!"

"Is Rogue still in there?"

Yes!

"You made me a murderer!" Carol shouted. 

Or was that her?

"You made me a murderer," she repeated. 

As herself. 

"Love, you did something important. The Avengers are a threat. Carol was a threat."

"Why?"

"Mutants need people to protect them. Not be friends with non-mutants and look the other way when atrocities happen. The Avengers are the worst sort. Thinking they're doing good when they're harming people like us." 

"And what good are you doing?" Carol ground out. 

"Keeping mutants safe." 

"By fulfilling a prophecy that you both know is nonsense?" Carol shouted. 

Prophecy?

"What prophecy?" Rogue asked. 

"It's nothing, love. I think having Carol in there is just mixing you up." 

“‘From deep in the woods, a child of great power shall come forth, ushering a reunion of enemies and the demise of humankind,’" Rogue heard herself intone. 

For the first time in her life, Rogue saw surprise on her mothers' faces. And then worry. 

What?

Mama turned to Irene, giving her a look before putting a hand on her arm. Irene couldn't see anymore, and Mama still forgot sometimes. 

"How do they know?"

"I do not know." 

"What was that?" Rogue asked.

"Nothing, love." 

Nothing, Carol scoffed. 

"Nothing?"

"Love, if Carol is in there, she will know sooner or later." 

"Right." 

Mama sat on the edge of the bed, which was unusual for her. 

"Do you remember when I found you?"

They're holding her hostage. 

Who was Carol talking to now?

We tried to extricate her, but she wouldn't come. 

What?

Mama was still waiting for an answer. 

"Yes. I was in the woods with my gun." 

"You tried to shoot me. Fortunately, I'm the better shot." 

Rogue's arm still had the scar to prove it. 

It had just been a graze, a warning, but it had hurt like hell. And it had been enough for Raven to get closer. 

"Mama Irene told me where to find you."

"Because of one of her visions?"

"Yes. She knew about your powers. And that you'd be even more powerful. You were going to be important to our cause." 

Rogue felt her brow furrow. 

"I brought you home, and you ate yourself sick. It was hard to believe you'd become anything like what we needed, but Mama Irene insisted." 

They're training her to fight.

Carol, who the hell are you talkin' to?

"I kept wanting to send you back. I even wondered whether I'd brought home the wrong child." 

Rogue sat up. 

Window. 

"You did?"

"If I had, we needed to find whoever was really out there for us. And why put you through something you couldn’t handle? No sense in wasting everyone's time." 

"But… You didn't want me to stay?"

"We brought you here for a purpose. All that training and education needed to go to the right person. The vision was the clearest we'd had in decades. It was too important to ignore." 

"So you were going to send me back to the woods?"

"Or your hometown."

"But… they wanted to kill me." 

"You'd figure it out." 

I what?

Window. 

"But we're family? Wouldn't you just want me to stay?"

"Family is relative, love. And protecting one little girl isn't enough if it means mutants die." 

"I… I thought…"

I thought you loved me. 

"No need to make that face. You're still here. You're going to make a difference now." 

Mama turned her head. 

"What are you looking at?"

Window. 

Rogue stood, her fists clenched. 

"Rogue?"

Rogue. 

Fly. 

She did. 

Present (X-Mansion)

Remy tapped on Rogue's door, wondering if he should just put this off until another time. But he couldn't seem to push it out of his consciousness and wasn’t sure he’d even be able to sleep.

Not that that should be her problem, but-

Startin’ to overthink shit a lil too much...

The door opened, and a haunted-looking Rogue opened it. 

She was wearing a pair of green pajamas that were decorated with… skunks?

"Those are…"

"They were a gift," she snapped. 

"From-"

"No. Magneto did not give me skunk pajamas," she huffed. "What do you want?"

He walked past her into the room, and she rolled her eyes. 

"Sure, come on in. Wasn't like I was tryin' to sleep." 

"I wanted to apologize for touchin' you earlier. I wasn't thinkin'. And I shoulda asked." 

"Someone put you up to this?"

"Non." 

"Hmm. Well, as you heard, I'm used to it."

"Shouldn't be used to it, chere. And that don't make it right."

She shrugged. 

"It ain't gonna happen again. And I'm sorry." 

"Well, thank you. I got a whole lotta bigger fish to fry, but I appreciate it all the same." 

He gave her a nod. 

"You share anythin' else I should know 'bout?"

"'Bout you?"

He shook his head.

"Ain't mine to share. Think you should, though."

"It's not-"

"I know it's nobody's business, but I think you should all the same. Think it'll make things easier." 

"Still don't know why you care." 

He shrugged. 

Neither did he. 

"Well, thank you, I guess. Probably enough for everyone to gloat 'bout as it is." 

"Gloat?"

"Catchin' me with some sorta evil secret? Sleepin' with the enemy?"

"Don't think they're gloatin'." 

"Course they are." 

"Well, even if anyone else is, I ain't one to criticize in that department."

She raised an eyebrow. 

"You fuck him, too?"

Remy's jaw dropped. 

Then, he burst into laughter. 

That seemed to surprise her. 

"And here I thought you never laughed."

"Guess you gotta tell better jokes, chere." 

"I'm plenty funny." 

"Right. And non, don't think I have."

She shrugged. 

"Never know with you."

He grinned. 

"You sure you're okay?"

She nodded. 

"Hardest part was seein' him, to be honest. Was hopin' I'd never have to again. But I always was real stupid ‘bout people."

“Non, don’t make you stupid. Means you wanted to stay ‘way from someone awful. And he’s real awful.”

“He is.”

"S’always easier to hope this shit don't come back." 

"I guess." 

He reached out a hand to pat her on the arm, then pulled it back.

She gave him an odd look.

“You alright?”

“Yeah. Uh. Hope your night goes better.”

“Right. You feelin’ okay?”

“Yeah. ‘Night.”

He heard the door close behind him as he walked down the hall.

Real smooth, couillon.

Remy could admit that he was not being on his best behavior today. 

But he had a lot on his mind, too much, and old habits die hard. 

Most of the team members used the main kitchen near the bedrooms, but there was a small kitchenette on the other side of the house that nobody used. It was conveniently near the parking lot, so Remy could easily bring guests in through that door. 

The woman—Desiree—had a son in fifth or sixth grade. He wasn't in any of Remy's classes, which Remy decided meant this wasn't his worst decision, but he suspected his teammates and fellow teachers would look at him askance. 

Hence the kitchenette. 

Desiree was blonde, with fake lips and tits to match. They had flirted in the parking lot a few times, and today seemed like as good a day as any to get to know each other better. 

She was splayed on the kitchen table, and he was on his knees, his face buried between her thighs. 

She was breathing heavily and tugging his hair almost to the point of pain. 

"Fuck. I'm close. I'm close. Keep doing that!" she wailed. 

"Well, at least you're doing this in the kitchen," a voice quipped. 

There might as well have been a thunderclap. 

Gambit jumped back, stumbling as he wiped his mouth. 

Desiree groaned, though she stayed in place and looked up at the intruder. 

"What the hell?" Desiree groused. 

Rogue looked right back, raising an eyebrow. 

"You're askin' me that?"

"Who the fuck are you?"

"Sugar, that is ugly language to use with a stranger." 

That made Gambit snort, though he handed Desiree his coat so she could cover up. 

Rogue fired an eye dart at him. 

"Don't know why you're laughin'. People eat on that table." 

He grinned. 

"Food," she amended. "People eat food on that table." 

Desiree was still lying on the table, now propped up on her elbows. 

"Who are you, his memaw?"

"Well, bless your heart-"

Oh boy. 

"Un petit moment," Gambit wisely interjected. "I didn't know anyone used this room." 

"I gathered that." 

Rogue yanked the fridge open, tugging out a container. 

She gave him a wry look. 

"The world really does keep on turnin', huh?"

"I'm sorry, chere."

"Hang on. You're apologizing to her?"

Rogue ignored her, shaking her head. 

"Shouldn't you be teachin'?"

"Done for the day." 

"Right. So you figured you'd treat yourself for lunch." She tossed her tupperware into the microwave. "You got a room of your own, Cajun." 

"Guess he didn't want to wait."

Rogue took a step toward Desiree. 

"Sugar, I cannot stress how much you need to get the hell out-" 

Gambit put a hand on her arm, and she glared at it. 

"Are you really touchin' me with those filthy hands?"

He held up his hands. 

"Sorry. We'll go." 

He gave Desiree a grin, which fortunately managed to melt her. 

"Got to finish somethin' I started." 

Rogue rolled her eyes. 

"Well, enjoy that." 

"You can go next if you got time, chere." 

Her jaw dropped. 

"I swear-"

"Just jokin'." 

"Then go joke somewhere else. Jackass." 

She shook her head again. 

Desiree took some assuaging, but they eventually ended up in his room, and he did finish what he started. 

She blew him afterwards, and Remy found his mind wandering in an inconvenient way. He was getting used to sex blurring together, to moments like this only standing out when they were truly remarkable. But this wasn't boredom. It felt more like intrigue. And not about the hot, wet mouth around him. 

Rogue's reaction to walking in on them had made him grin. He knew more of her history now, so he hadn't expected her to be entirely shy and innocent. But she was mostly bored and annoyed with him, and once Desiree ran her mouth, Rogue was happy to tell her what was what. 

Rogue's tartness should not be as appealing as it was. He should not be tickled by her annoyance or feel warm inside when fire seemed to shoot from her eyes in moments of genuine fury. It shouldn't matter that she was a damn good fighter, had an acerbic wit, was really fucking beautiful-

Why the hell was he thinking about this?

Somethin' 'bout this place is messin' with my head. 

Desiree increased her pace, and he gripped her hair tightly, trying to pay attention. 

He bet Rogue was loud when she came. And he could get her off with just his hands, over her clothes even, so her powers wouldn't be the end of the world. 

Somethin's wrong with me. 

He clenched his jaw. 

This was not like him. 

Never thought of a woman for more than a few hours, he grumbled inwardly. 

Well, that wasn't true. 

'Cept Bella. 

But that was a long time ago. And it definitely hadn't happened since then. 

He willed himself to focus. 

Desiree moaned around his dick, and his knees felt a little weak. 

He wondered if Rogue had ever done this. 

He guessed she probably had. With that shithead. 

He hated that for her. He hated everything about that for her. 

Was she glad now her powers were what they were, at least with everyone else? Maybe she didn't want anyone else touching her again. 

He shoved away this train of thought for the millionth time. 

Fuck me. 

Desiree picked up her pace, sucking harder, and soon he was coming hard, desperately trying not to think of anything else. 

This training room mostly had a series of mats, with space around them to sit and observe. It gave them a fair amount of space to train, allowing multiple pairs or small teams to spar. 

A few sets of students were seated at one side of the mat while Betsy spoke about using defensive moves as an offensive strategy. 

Remy half listened, looking around at the students. They were mostly paying attention, and he knew they were primarily interested because they were expecting to watch him and Betsy spar. It was always a good time, though his students were a little too enthusiastic during the times when he got his ass kicked. 

The door opened, and Remy felt his eyes dart in that direction. 

Rogue entered, smiling brightly at her students, waving at a few others that she recognized. She looked up to see him and Betsy, and he caught the remains of her smile head on. 

Fuck. 

This really was going to be a problem. 

She was wearing a sort of bodysuit, matching gloves, and boots, and her hair was pulled tightly back.

Even has a whistle ‘round her damn neck. 

He felt an elbow in his side. 

"Mr. LeBeau, did you have anything to add?" Betsy gave him a pointed look. 

Huh?

"Not right now."

She rolled her eyes. 

Rogue joined them at the front. 

"I think most of you know Miss Rogue." 

"Hi, y'all. Hope you're ready for a real ref this time." 

"Actually, I was thinking we might mix things up a bit," Betsy said wickedly. 

Rogue's eyes shot to Betsy's. 

"Pardon?" she asked through gritted teeth. 

"I was thinking you and Mr. LeBeau might spar." 

"Yesssssssss!" said one student. 

"Kick his ass!"

"Hey!" Rogue snapped. "You use ugly language in here, I'll show you ugly." 

"She will, too." 

"Gamb- Mr. Lebeau," she warned. 

"How about hand-to-hand? No weapons. Just a few rounds." 

The students cheered.

Remy shrugged, unable to bite back a grin. 

"Fine by me."

"I'm sure it is." 

Rogue tugged off the whistle, handing it to Betsy with a harrumph. 

"Hope you know you're dead," she hissed. 

Betsy smiled beatifically. 

The three of them moved toward the middle of the mat. 

"Let's talk rules." 

"Mind if we allow murder?" Rogue asked. 

"No murder. No maiming. No powers." 

"Now, hang on-"

"Sounds fair to me, chere." 

"I'll bet it does." 

"Three rounds. I call it unless someone taps out." 

"Great." 

"C'mon, this gonna be fun." 

"I'm going to say a few more things to the kids."

"Fine." Rogue grumbled. 

He was absolutely going to love this. 

"You better have showered after your 'lunch'."

"Sure did, chere. You missed out." 

"Uh huh." 

He nudged her with his shoulder. 

"Sorry again 'bout that." 

"It's fine. And I appreciate that you thought to wipe down that table 'fore you left." 

He shrugged. 

"Was the gentlemanly thing to do."

"That what you were doin'? Bein' a gentleman." 

"Some might say it's the best way." 

"Oh?"

"Want me to show you?" 

"I do not." 

"You'll be glad to hear we did finish what we-"

"I don't want to know." 

"Alright, everyone ready?" Betsy called out. 

"Yes, we-" Rogue began. 

Remy ripped off his shirt. 

"Oh." 

Rogue blinked at him. 

"All set, Bets," he called. 

They were much more evenly matched than Remy had expected. He wasn't sure whether to be impressed or annoyed, but either way, the students all seemed delighted whenever he took a hit. 

Gonna have to work on teachin’ respect for their elders… 

He won the first round, which clearly irritated Rogue, but she got back up and won the second. He could see the pride in her eyes, and she was clearly trying hard not to gloat. 

They faced off again. 

"Last chance, chere."

"Last chance? Who says I'll be done with you when we're outta here?"

"I'm hopin' you won't be," he leered. 

Betsy blew her whistle. 

Rogue lunged at him, and he managed to sidestep her, though she rolled, turning right back. 

Where she learn some o' this shit?

He wondered how much of it was from her training with the Brotherhood and how much was absorbed from Carol Danvers. 

She smacked him on the side of the head. 

"Hey!" 

"Focus! No fun if you're starin' into space."

"Come on, Miss Rogue!" 

"Slap him this time!"

"Kick him in the n-"

"Don't you finish that!" Rogue snapped. 

"Thirty more seconds!" Betsy shouted. 

Rogue dove at him, this time taking him down, though he rolled them and landed on top of her. 

"Oh damn." 

"Is this hot to anyone else?"

That made him snort. 

Rogue shoved him off with both feet, her face looking a little too red. 

"Hear that, chere?"

She glared at him, diving at him once again. 

In the end, it was her that won, though Remy was willing to be a gracious loser. 

"Alright, everyone, what did we learn from that?"

Betsy asked the students. 

"Guess we learned I'm better at that than you thought, huh, Cajun?" Rogue asked, tugging her whistle back over her head. 

"Oh, I see. You gonna be a sore winner, hein?"

"Just pointin' somethin' out."

He took hold of the whistle. 

"I see that. Though you realize we gonna have to have a rematch."

"You think you can take it, Cajun?" 

"I know I can." 

He gave her a wink, and with that, he walked off. 

He looked back just to see her realize that the whistle was glowing. 

She gasped.

"You motherf-"

An explosion rang out. 

By the time the smoke had cleared, Remy was holding her in his arms, not unlike the hero of a romance novel cover. 

Rogue could hear students cheering and whistling. 

"Guess we learned never to let our guard down, hein, chere?"

"Cajun, I am goin' to murder you."

"Be a shame, chere. Fit real nice together, non?" 

"I'm not kiddin', Gambit. That's cheatin'."

"Oh damn. I came at just the right time," she heard Jubilation say. 

"Wait, are they together?" someone else asked. 

Jesus Christ. 

Gambit just grinned. 

Asshole's havin' a fuckin' field day.

"How's it cheatin' when we were done?"

"Because it- You're not- It wasn't playin' fair."

"All's fair in love and war, mon coeur." 

"Oh, is it?"

"Oui, I-"

She swung hard, sending him flying. 

Always had a good right hook. 

She heard more cheers from nearby and walked over to the pile of limbs that had recently been Gambit. 

"What was that you were sayin', sugar?"

He rubbed his jaw. 

"Don't remember, but I might be in love." 

"You're an idiot is what you are."

With that, she stormed out. 

Rogue stomped into her room, grinding her molars together. 

That asshole. 

She looked down at her bodysuit. At least it wasn't too messed up. 

Gonna have to buy another damn whistle, though. Should make him pay for it. 

She quickly showered and walked back into her bedroom. 

She was still grumpy as hell, but the shower had at least calmed her down enough that she wouldn't immediately go back out to murder the jackass. 

Her laptop was on the bed, and she moved it out of the way so that she could sit on the edge. They had a meeting late this afternoon, and she'd been making notes earlier about what she'd seen before Erik arrived at the gala. 

It still amused her to be issued a laptop as part of a mutant "superhero" team, but it was useful to have when she didn't want to sit in one of the work areas. 

She should probably read over some things when she had a minute. Jean had emailed her a list of files, dossiers of all the team members. Rogue tried to look at them before, but Carol had taken over, and she finally gave up, having absorbed little information herself while nonetheless seeming to burn with nostalgia and grief. 

Now that there was more space in her head, maybe she would be able to take some of this in. 

She opened the laptop, scanning everyone's names, looking at a few photos. She had heard of many of the team members before coming here, of course. Carol and some members of the Brotherhood had even known them. As had Erik, though he seemed to know everyone. 

All team members had gaps in their files that hinted at more, likely times and stories that wouldn't bear repeating, as Gambit had suggested. Her cursory reading had already told her that they had a long history of violence among them, acts that they likely weren't proud of. 

That should probably make her feel a little better about herself. 

She looked at the clock. She still had time. 

Should start my “diggin” with that asshole. See how he feels with someone in his business. 

She opened his file. 

Rogue guessed she knew he was a member of the Thieves Guild.

She skimmed through his file, a veritable sea of names. 

L’Etroile du Tricherie. Henri LeBeau. Genevieve Darcenaux. Victor Creed. 

Her eyebrows went up. 

Well, that was a blast from the past. 

They have many checkered pasts among them, Xavier had said. 

That's what Gambit suggested. Makes me think he's got the worst o' them all. 

Xavier had made no reply. 

Rogue snorted. 

Anything involving Victor could certainly be considered "checkered." 

But Gambit wouldn't be on the team if they suspected him of something truly horrible, would he?

Not if I'm here, Rogue thought wryly. 

Or most of the others, for that matter. 

She furrowed her brow. 

I killed a lotta people in my time, chere. More'n I can count.

Victor certainly had. 

But Gambit's file didn't suggest the same kind of history. 

Maybe he hadn't shared?

Hmm. 

Gambit. 

Remy Etienne Lebeau. 

Remy LeBeau. 

She gasped. 

"Oh God." 

Past (Headquarters of the Brotherhood of Evil Mutants)

"Well, there he is," her mama sneered. 

Rogue furrowed her brow, looking up. 

There was a lot of that sort of thing at the Brotherhood headquarters. Old friends and foes alike showing up, often met with the same mix of disdain and warmth that only Raven Darkhölme could achieve. 

The man who entered the room was gigantic. Well, maybe not Fred gigantic. 

But he towered over them, seemed to be sprouting hair from everywhere but his face. His nails were veritable claws, and they were dirty, which made Rogue shudder. 

His eyes were so menacing that part of her wouldn't be surprised if that was blood. 

Her mother walked over to the man, and he swooped her into his arms and immediately shoved his tongue down her throat. 

Um…

Mama finally pushed him back.

"Victor, you can't do that."

"Already did. And Irene doesn't mind."

"No, but my daughter is watching." 

"Hi," she offered. "I'm Rogue." 

Mystique sighed. 

"'Hah. Ahm Rogue.' Try again." 

"Mama," she groaned. 

"You're educated. At great expense. Use it." 

Rogue sighed. 

"High. Aye am Rogue." 

The man—Victor—snorted. 

"Something wrong with you, or something?"

"What? No." 

"Not sure I believe you. But doesn't matter." He grinned, showing fangs that made her shudder. "You look delicious." 

"Victor, behave. And you can't have both of us." 

"I'd like to see you try to stop me." 

"No. She's off limits. But even then, her powers pack a punch." 

"That so?" he leered at Rogue. 

"They do," Rogue ground out. 

"Shame." 

"How about we catch up in here? Rogue, close the door on the way out."

Rogue obeyed. 

Rogue sat for what felt like hours, listening to her mama and Victor scream in ecstasy, saying filthy things to each other. She could always tell when her mama had decided to shapeshift during the process, when she started to pound into the men that had come into the office like lions. It was the same with Victor, who was eventually reduced to long moans and whimpers. 

She wanted to leave, had begged to leave before, but Mama didn't have a secretary these days, which meant that she expected Rogue to sit at the desk no matter what was happening in the office. Headphones did nothing to dampen the sound, so Rogue just sat and read, and with her imagination and a book in hand, she was sometimes able to go to another, better place. 

She had once told Mama that it embarrassed her, and Mama knew that she was shy. But Mama’s solution for that was to expose her more than ever. Rogue guessed she probably should be used to these visits by now, but her face always burned no matter how many times this happened.

Her mother's shower began running, and the noises resumed, though eventually the office door opened, and the two walked out, sated. 

"No headphones?" she asked Rogue. 

"They don't help." 

"I think you might actually like listening in." 

Rogue felt herself instinctively make a sour face. 

"No. I don't." 

"Aye don't." 

Rogue blew out a long breath. 

"Aye don't." 

Raven kissed the top of her head. 

"There we go. And I'm just teasing." 

There was a sort of lounge by the desk, and Victor splayed across one of the couches. It wasn't lost on Rogue that his hand rested on his groin, and he was now studying her. 

Mama smacked him on the head. 

"I see what you're doing. That wasn't enough for you?"

"Never enough, sweets. Maybe she'd just like to watch." 

"Stop that. I told you. Anyone but her." 

"What about Irene?" He gave her a cheeky grin. 

Mama's expression hardened, her voice turning to ice. 

"If you ever touch her-"

He waved that way. 

"I won't. Just giving you shit." 

Mama handed him a glass of something, and she sat near him. 

"So what are you really doing here? Much as I needed a good fuck." 

She gave Rogue a wink. 

Rogue wished, for the millionth time, that she could be anywhere but here. 

"Thought I'd fill you in on a recent job."

"Oh?"

"Was hired by Essex. Got similar goals to the Brotherhood these days."

"Does he?"

"Of course he's into all that genetics bullshit. But might be there's something in it. Had us get rid of a bunch of mutants because he's worried about the gene pool, whatever the fuck that means." 

Mama tilted her head. 

"The Morlocks…"

"You heard, huh?"

"I keep an ear to the ground." 

"I know."

"And what do you expect to get for telling me this?"

"A whole lot more of that," he nodded toward the office. "And protection in case things with Sinister go south." 

"Both can be arranged."

Victor's eyes fell on Rogue again. 

"Sure you can't throw her in?"

"No," Mama said firmly. "Not her." 

"Too bad." He snorted. "It was a real shitshow in those tunnels. The Morlocks were something else. Sinister said they'd be deformed, but that wasn't the half of it. Felt like we were sparing some of them, looking like that." 

"Hmm. I'm not sure I like the idea of spilling mutant blood."

"This blood you would. Sinister's right about this. They'd be bad to keep around." 

"How the hell did you even hook up with him?"

"Got hired for a team. The Marauders. Some young Southern punk I knew from way back came around and offered me the job. Remember I told you about Genevieve? That kid."

Mama nodded at that. 

"Still had the biggest chip on his shoulder, even though the fucker should have had his tail between his legs. Almost respected that about him. He was a real pain in the ass, but the money was right, and he's a good fighter, all things considered. Thought he was hot shit and fucked anything that moved, too, so we'd just laugh and watch him talk his way into everyone's pants. Made it that much better when he realized."

"Realized what?"

Victor snorted. 

"Sinister already knew he wanted us to take the Morlocks out."

"All of them?"

Victor nodded. 

"Guess he knew the kid would try to stop us if he had any idea about that. Told him some bullshit about us connecting with the Morlocks. He was a real dumbass for thinking Sinister would want the guys he pulled together to stop by for just a chat." 

Victor laughed, tossing back his drink. 

"Kid led us into the tunnels for a different reason than he thought. Then, we got down to business. Sinister was right, too. He did try to stop us."

"I think I can guess how you handled that." 

Victor nodded, chuckling to himself. 

"Beat the fucker within an inch of his life. Wasn't such hot shit then."

"So you left him there?"

"Yep. Might be dead now, with all the bleeding he did. Along with every lump of Morlock on the ground." 

"I see." 

"Still, you ever run across a kid named Remy LeBeau—goes by Gambit—guess it'll mean he lived. He'll be walking around with a head full of information that could do some real damage. You let me know if that happens, and I'll finish the job."

"I'll be sure to let you know." 

Victor unzipped his pants, very matter-of-factly. 

"Now, how 'bout one of you sucks my cock before I go?"

Mama smacked him on the head, though she gave Rogue a nod.

“How about we try this?”

Rogue walked toward Mama’s office, and as she turned to shut the door, she saw a spitting image of herself getting onto her knees.

“I should say, ‘How ‘bout we trah this?’”

Victor laughed.

They'd started before Rogue even shut Mama's office door behind her. 

Present (X-Mansion)

Rogue stared at Gambit's photo, her jaw on the floor. 

A kid named Remy LeBeau—goes by Gambit. 

You let me know if that happens, and I'll finish the job.

Gambit led the team into the tunnels. A whole community was wiped out. And yet-

"He did try to stop us," Victor had said. "Beat the fucker within an inch of his life." 

Gambit's history was unusually sparse after the massacre took place. 

Had he been on the run all this time? Was he convinced working with the X-Men would somehow help him hide? Keep him safe? Was he trying to move on to something better, just hoping no one would find out where he had been?

"Oh God," she said again.