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Gambit was walking in a sewer, alone, confused and afraid. He was given a mission, but his memory was foggy on the details. He wandered for what felt hours, until he heard a whimper. He immediately turned around, preparing to defend himself. He recognized them: they were some of the Morlocks that had survived Genosha. But they looked at him with terror on their eyes. They stared at him, trembling and clutching each other. No one has ever looked at him this way before, it was… unsettling.
Gambit carefully approached them, raising his hands to show that he means no harm. He was about to say reassuring words but stopped short. His hands were unfamiliar to him: his skin had a dark grayish tone and his fingers were covered in blood. In an instant, instinct took over and he made two fists in the air in their direction. A poisonous cloud appeared and surrounded the Morlocks. They were now clutching at their own throat, gasping for air. Their eyes were wide open, a mixture of blood and foam was coming out of their mouth. A deep voice, his own deep voice, started to laugh. “Vous ne pouvez fuir l’Ange de la mort.”
Gambit woke up from his bed, gasping and covered in cold sweat. He trembled, removed his gloves to look down at his hands: they were his natural color, no trace of blood was in sight. He sensed movement from his side and automatically tensed his body, ready to put himself at arms length.
“Sugar, it’s alright, you’re home, you’re safe with me.”
The quiet familiar voice came from the other side of the bed, separated by a pillow fort. Gambit released a deep breath, slowly coming back to his senses. He was in the mansion, with Rogue. It was just a nightmare… Another nightmare.
Remy passed his hand through his damp hair as he looked at the alarm clock on his nightstand: 3:05 am. He laid down back on their bed, closing his eyes. He knew he would not be able to fall back asleep. Hank had prescribed him sleeping pills. They did help to fall asleep during the evening, but he had nightmares on a regular basis and once he woke up, his night was over.
Rogue came on his side of the bed and rested her head on his chest. They were both dressed up in a matching light breathable hooded onesie, with socks and gloves. He enveloped her in his arms and tried to concentrate on his own breathing, like Hank taught him. After the horrible year they spent apart, they both needed each other, specially during the night when memories would haunt him in his sleep.
It was a routine they had ever since he came back in the mansion. They slept on their own side of the bed with a pillow fort between them as precaution, except when one has a nightmare. There were still risks involved, but this, in combination with their hooded onesie, was the compromise they settled on, for the moment.
“Talk to me” She asked, breaking the silence.
“You should try to sleep, Chère. You need your beauty sleep.”
“I’m not the only one who needs their beauty sleep, Cajun. I’m already awake anyway.”
Gambit didn’t want to burden her with his fears, his guilt. She already had her own share of trauma, she did not need his as well.
“It’s the same as usual.” He simply said, avoiding to provide her with any more details.
Rogue sighed. She knew from past experience that pushing him on that subject would be counter-productive and it would leave them both frustrated at one another. Still, she couldn’t help herself to be worried about her partner. Remy, who used to love cooking Cajun and French cuisine, barely ate anymore. Gambit used to light every room he came in with his charisma and out-going personality. Now, he was always tired and moody. The fact that he refused to opened up about his nightmares or about his time as a Horseman of Death did nothing to reassure her.
She remembered Gambit’s reaction when Hank informed him that he was not ready to go back on the field. Rogue has never seen Remy lose his temper like this: he took Beast by his white coat and accused him holding him back, that he knew nothing about him. Hank had remained calm and compose as he told him this demonstration of behaviors only confirmed his clinical judgement. Gambit threw a clipboard on the wall in response before slamming the door and storming out of the medical wing.
Rogue knew that it would be a challenge for him to go back home after spending a year as Apocalypse’s slave. Still, she naively thought that her love and support would be enough to bring him back to his feet.
“I spoke with Morph last weekend.” Gambit suddenly said. Rogue was surprised at his unexpected willingness to talk. She waited for him to continue, giving him the time and space he needed. She suspected that this was more than a small talk in the middle of the night.
“We went out, took a beer. We talked a lot... Well actually, they did most of the talking. Morph told me about their experience under Sinister. About their time with Dr. Moira. It got me thinking…” He paused, taking in a deep breath. “I think it’s time for me to get help.”
Rogue removed herself from her lover’s embrace to look into his dark eyes.
“What did you have in mind?”
“… Maybe Muir Island” he whispered hesitantly.
Rogue’s heart dropped at his answer. Her eyebrows were raised, lips slightly opened. “Oh” was all she managed to say. If he was considering receiving therapy in Scotland, then it would mean he would leave. Rogue changed position to instead sit on their bed, bringing her knees under her chin. He soon sat next to her.
“I thought Dr. Moira perished in Genosha.”
“She did, but she has some colleagues and assistants that are still working there.”
Gambit then waited for some sort of response. Her lack of reaction and hint of reluctance made him feel worried: maybe it wasn’t the best idea to have this conversation in the middle of the night, when both of them were sleep deprived.
“Actually, never mind, it was just an idea.”
As soon as he finished his sentence, Rogue intertwined her fingers in his. “Wait, no Remy, I’m sorry, I just needed some time to process all this. I think therapy is a great idea.” Rogue stopped short, avoiding to continue her thoughts. She didn’t want to burden him with her insecurities: this situation was about him, not her.
Gambit frowned as he took a closer look at her. “You’re not being entirely honest with Gambit, Chère”
Rogue sighed, he was always so insightful and observant. Nothing could escape him.
“Believe me when I say that I’ll support you. I’m so proud of you and so relieved that you’re considering making this step. It’s just… The thought of not seeing you for god knows how long, when we’ve just been reunited… I know I’m being selfish, but my heart ache simply by imagining how much I’ll miss you... Still, I want what’s the best for you, Sug’. If that’s what my man needs, that’s what he’s gonna get. So don’t mind this foolish girl.”
Gambit’s eyes soften at her, kissing her head before bringing his arm around her waist.
“Missing someone you love is not being selfish, mon amour. I feel the same, I don’t want to leave you. But I can’t go on like this and Muir Island seemed like the logical option... Or the only option? I don’t know about these things and I can’t think straight these days. That’s why I want to talk about this with you.”
Warmth took over her body as she realized how much Remy trusted her. Asking for help has never been his strong suit and yet, he came to her to have that challenging conversation.
“Have you spoken to Hank? Maybe he knows some good places?”
“Actually… I’ve kinda avoided him in the past few weeks. Gambit doesn’t feel too proud about what how he treated him recently…”
“I think Hank understands that you’re not feeling like yourself. If you want to speak to him, I could come with you, to give you a little ounce of courage.”
A weight was gradually being lifted off Gambit’s shoulders. “Yes, I’d like that.” He slowly approached his face towards hers. He took a lock of her hair, brought it carefully to her lips, then kissed her gently. He could feel her lips responding slightly, even with a barrier separating them.
They laid down back on the bed, as fatigue quickly caught up to them. Rogue stayed on his side of the bed. He held her waist from behind and locked their legs together. They stayed like this in a comfortable silence, listening to the wind blowing against the windows.
“Listen, Remy, no matter what you choose, we’ll make it work, I promise.” She whispered, caressing the hands enveloping her.
Gambit pulled her closer to him, her back against his chest, their legs intertwined. He nuzzled against her hoodie and took in a deep breath, concentrating on the smell of her shampoo and detergent. He could feel his tense muscles starting to relax.
“Merci, Anna.”
Remy had been frustrated and tired in the past few weeks. But this conversation with his love cleared his mind on at least one aspect: No matter what he chooses, he wants her by his side.