Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

xXxXx

A day like that was a rare event. A Saturday afternoon with everyone at the Institute gathered outside, no hint of threat hanging in the air. The sunny weather was a gift from Storm, but the sense of camaraderie and family was thanks to the bonds forged between everyone there. Amid the excitement of laughter and cheers, young people with unique powers and their mentors were split between players and spectators in a heated basketball game.

The crowd roared with excitement at each play, while the players flaunted their skills without a hint of modesty. With a shrill whistle and a guttural voice, Logan was the one refereeing the game—a fact that seemed, by itself, enough to ensure discipline. While powers were allowed, there were rules that had to be followed. For instance, if someone burst the ball, they were out of the game; likewise, if a teammate or an opponent were injured in anyway due to irresponsible use of powers, there’d be a harsher punishment. The specifics of this punishment hadn’t been disclosed, still it had been enough. Not knowing the consequences was the most effective threat, Wolverine had said with a sadistic grin to Ororo, the second referee, before the game began.

In the crowd, Kitty was the most excited.

“Go, Elf!” she shouted energetically, cheering for Kurt, who looked her way and waved shyly. The distraction nearly cost him a ball to the face, but Scott, who was on his team with Jean, Jubilee, and Amara, managed to deflect it with his weakest optic blast. Jean kept the ball in play, and Scott scooped it up again and scored.

“Stay focused, Kurt,” Scott scolded, unnecessarily using his leader voice.

The team in the lead was the opposing one, made up of Tabitha, Bobby, Roberto, Gambit, and Hank, who was the one trying, unsuccessfully, to keep his teammates in line.

“Whose idea was it to put them all on the same team?” Hank grumbled to himself, shaking his head slowly. Putting the most rebellious and reckless members together was a choice whose consequences definitely hadn’t been thought through.

In this team, Gambit was the biggest show-off, the most careless, and seemed to be the only one not taking the game seriously, though he was scoring the most points. Not only was he quick and agile, but he used his kinetic powers in creative ways—like speeding up the ball so no one could stop it; not to mention his precise aim.

Logan’s whistle marked the end of the first quarter, and the teams gathered in huddles after exchanging a series of excited high-fives.

Sitting beside Kitty, Rogue watched the scene and subtly looked away. She stared at her own hands, covered in green silk gloves resting on her lap. Everyone else was wearing shorts and light T-shirts or tank tops; Rogue was the only one in long sleeves and tights under her skirt. She didn’t feel hot since the fabric of her clothes was light, made specifically for her to endure warm days, but it still made her feel like an outsider. She wasn’t even participating in the game, yet was still too afraid of causing an accident if she didn’t cover almost her entire body. So much so that she sat withdrawn, with her shoulders slightly hunched and leaning forward.

In recent months, Rogue had been making a conscious effort to avoid feelings of self-pity, but there were moments when she couldn’t fully block them out. Her tactic was to shift her thoughts and eyes elsewhere, which usually worked. The problem was that what drew her attention most at that moment was Gambit. It was impossible not to look his way as he strutted after each point scored. She would roll her eyes, trying to find his antics exasperating, but the truth was she didn’t. He made it look captivating rather than annoying. She would look away, but her eyes always seemed to drift back to him, following his movements before she’d tear them away, only for them to find him again soon after.

Gambit scored another three-pointer and passed by the crowd, showing off. As he walked past Rogue, he turned his head toward her and winked, flashing that confident smile that seemed permanently fixed on his lips. Rogue smiled back, a bit embarrassed—not a vain or silly teenage smile, but rather a slight, somewhat wistful smile, without showing her teeth.

“That Cajun’s pretty cute, huh?” Kitty commented, noticing her friend’s eyes following the young man.

Rogue shrugged, showing no interest. She didn’t allow herself to make juvenile observations like that. She didn’t join conversations about guys and certainly didn’t attend the frequent girls-only night get-togethers at the Institute. She was always invited, and while she knew the invitations were genuine and well-meaning, it hurt. Rogue couldn’t do what the other girls did: touch each other without thinking, brush each other’s hair, whisper close to someone’s ear without worrying about accidentally brushing it, grab hands when they were happy or comforting one another, do each other’s nails, and so many other ordinary gestures.

On one occasion, Rogue gave in and joined the girls for one of these night gatherings after Kitty insisted—plus, it was going to take place in the room they shared. In the end, Rogue spent most of the time curled up in a corner, holding her legs against her chest. The worst part was when the girls turned their attention to her, asking if there was someone she was into. Rogue suddenly felt like she was on the spot and hated the feeling of all those eager eyes on her.

Her cheeks burned when she noticed Jean averting her gaze, as Rogue understood then that the girl knew about her old crush on Scott. She felt Jean had looked at her differently since that Christmas when Rogue and Scott, the only two without families to return to, had stayed at the mansion. Rogue had even bought a gift for him. Shortly afterward, she felt foolish for having hope, since Scott only had eyes for Jean. She hadn’t felt anything for him in a long time, but Jean wouldn’t know that.

With her heart pounding, Rogue ran away after mumbling some unintelligible answer and, thankfully, no one followed her. At first, she resented the girls for including her in something she couldn’t truly be part of, but then she softened, understanding they just wanted her to feel like part of the group. Either way, teenage fantasies weren’t something she could indulge in. Which was why it bothered her so much that she couldn’t stop looking at the Cajun. The truth was, he’d already caught her attention a long time ago, even before he arrived at the mansion.

She had even admitted to herself that maybe she had developed a little crush on him and wondered if that feeling had clouded her judgment and decisions on that day in New Orleans. She couldn’t help it; although he was her enemy, he seemed to have so many qualities she was attracted to. His voice was smooth and spicy, familiar, with a timbre that sent pleasant chills down her spine and restlessness, and when his unusual eyes looked at her, it felt like she had his full attention—even though his eyes would dart away more often than they would meet hers—and she just pretended not to notice how handsome he was.

When Ororo showed up with Gambit in tow two months ago, there was a stir among the girls; every one of them had something to say about him at some point—to be fair, so did the boys, though their comments were of a different sort. It didn’t help that Gambit seemed to show attention to all the girls without exception. Of course, it was just friendly banter, with a sprinkle of charm. Other than that, Gambit interacted less than expected. He participated in training sessions and any other group activities, but he avoided personal questions or anything related to his past, both as an Acolyte and before that. Aside from brief and necessary interactions during team training, Rogue had only spoken to Gambit alone once in over two months, by chance, when they happened to be alone in the kitchen after dinner.

“No hard feelings, n’est-ce pas?” he had said with a regretful smile.

Rogue shook her head in response. She had looked him in the eyes and figured he seemed sincere. In any case, she had forgiven him a long time ago. After that, they barely exchanged a few occasional words. Gambit hadn’t made any effort to get closer to her or to anyone at the mansion. Rogue even considered if he might be a spy—after all, Gambit was a thief, an excellent thief. In the end, she abandoned that thought, not believing Professor Xavier wouldn't be that easily fooled. Gambit probably just wanted to keep up his mysterious façade, or maybe there were things he'd rather leave behind, and that was something she could sympathize with.

“What is it, Kitty?” Rogue asked with a grumpy tone, noticing the girl’s smile full of insinuations.

“Nothing,” Kitty replied in a high-pitched voice that could mean anything but nothing. Rogue hadn’t told Kitty or Kurt, let alone Logan, what had happened the day with Gambit—she’d only shared the unavoidable. But Kitty seemed to sense that there was more to the story.

When the whistle sounded to mark the end of the second quarter, Rogue got to her feet and started walking away slowly, without anyone noticing her absence—not even Kitty, who had run off to bring water to the players.

At a slow pace, Rogue circled the mansion, taking the longer route by the pool, and stopped in front of the main entrance. With a sigh, she sat down on the top step, her back to the door. She’d have peace there, since with all the activity happening out back, everyone would later enter through the kitchen.

Though Rogue loved her dysfunctional found family at the Institute, she’d be lying if she said she didn’t feel suffocated at times. It was something that came from within her; the weight of her position as an X-Man and the burden of her powers grew heavier and began to crush her. That’s why, occasionally, she found ways to slip away.

But barely a minute had passed when she noticed Gambit approaching her.

“Everything okay, chère?”

She shrugged, an unpleasant habit that she didn’t bother to shake.

“Of course,” she replied, her tone making it sound like his question was stupid. She hated being asked if she was okay. The others knew that; Gambit would soon learn as well.

“I saw you leave suddenly,” he said, undeterred by her mildly rude tone, and sat down on the same step next as her. He pushed the hair out of his eyes and leaned back slightly, resting his hands flat on the ground. His tank top and shorts clung to his sweaty skin from the physical exertion, and he smelled of sunshine. Rogue felt a pang of envy. She loved swimming under the summer sun as a little girl, but it had been years since she’d had that pleasure. It was no wonder her skin was so fair.

“You know…” He began to say, with a hesitation that wasn’t typical of him, perhaps because he hadn’t thought of what to say before sitting beside her. “I was t’inking if you’d want to go grab something to eat sometime. Mabbe you can show me a place for good Cajun food. I tried a few spots, but none were really good.”

“Not a good idea,” she replied dryly, drawing back a little.

“Why not?” he asked, smiling slightly. He had expected that kind of answer.

Lifting her head, she looked at him with an impassive expression.

“Are you asking me out?” He nodded, not understanding where she was going with this. “You know Ah can’t touch, right?” she added with a dose of venomous cynicism.

“Dat your standard answer when someone asks you out?” he asked with a grin, though he didn’t like her self-deprecating tone.

“No one ever asks me out.”

“So, I am the problem?” he asked with a cocky attitude, as if he couldn’t even consider that statement to be true.

Rogue didn’t answer, just kept staring at him. Gambit smiled again, in that signature way of his—half teasing, half sincere, and completely charming.

“Not everything has hidden motives, chérie,” he said in a suggestive way, as if he wasn’t trying to hide that there were always hidden motives. Then he dropped the performance a bit and added sincerely, “I think we get along, dat’s all. Fine if you say no. I can take it.” He finished, smiling in a way that managed to draw a smile from her as well. He looked at her pretty face and noticed she wasn’t as tough as she tried to look.

“Okay, maybe sometime,” she replied at last, though her response was evasive, more like an option for someone who didn’t want to decline the invitation but also didn’t want to accept it, and hoped time would take care of letting it slip away. Gambit seemed satisfied with the half-hearted answer, which made Rogue feel guilty for intending to brush him off. “Ah know a good spot.”

“Super,” he said, smiling again, but as he took a breath to say something else, he stopped and groaned. His face twisted in pain as he brought his hands to his head.

“What’s wrong, Gambit?” Rogue asked, alarmed, raising her arms uncertainly, not knowing what to do.

“Nut’ing,” he replied, pressing his fingertips against his closed eyes, not sure what to say. “Jus’ a stab of pain.”

“Very painfull, from the looks of it.”

“Oui, but it’s gone. It’s not’ing.”

Rogue licked her lips, unsure if she should mention it, then decided to go for it.

“Is it the same pain you felt a few days ago in the Danger Room?”

Gambit turned his surprised eyes at her. His smile was gone, as worry had replaced it. He thought no one had noticed.

“It’s happened a couple more times in the past few weeks,” he admitted.

“Do you know why?”

Gambit hesitated before answering. He wasn’t used to sharing personal information.

“I felt something similar right before my powers manifested when I was fourteen.”

Rogue nodded. Her own experience hadn’t been that different. She’d had constant headaches and bouts of discomfort before her absorption ability emerged.

“Then it must be related to your powers.”

Gambit had considered that possibility. Maybe his powers were changing, evolving, or perhaps it was the sign of a secondary mutation. Either way, he felt a strange fear, as if he were sensing something bad coming.

Even though he still felt the headache and didn’t want the conversation to end so quickly, he stood up, his usual smile back in place.

“I better get back to the game. The match ain’t gonna win itself,” he finished, full of confidence before running off.

° ° °

In the end, Rogue stalled Gambit for a week. It wasn’t hard since he didn’t make much of an effort to get close to her either. In fact, nothing really changed. He continued to interact just enough, keeping a safe distance, and avoiding personal questions that might open doors to more serious topics, but he also didn’t avoid casual conversation for anyone to notice he never talked about himself.

During that week, Gambit had three more intense episodes of headaches. No one noticed since they happened when he was alone, or he managed to disguise them well. He realized the headaches were gradually getting worse, both in frequency and intensity. He knew that if it continued like that, he wouldn’t be able to hide it much longer. Still, he was willing to push himself to see how long he could keep it under wraps.

The third time he felt the pain, Gambit left his room in the middle of the night, having woken up with his temples throbbing. He stumbled down the stairs, charging a card—even in pajamas, he kept his cards on him out of habit and precaution—to light the way to the infirmary without turning on any lights and drawing attention to himself.

He had just opened a couple of drawers when he heard someone approaching. Kitty soon appeared through a wall, wearing pajamas and holding a sandwich. She didn’t seem surprised to see him there at three in the morning. Gambit figured that people wandering around the mansion at odd hours must not be all that uncommon, especially judging by the size of her midnight snack.

“Need some help, Gambit?” Kitty asked helpfully, taking a big bite of her sandwich.

“I was jus’ looking for painkillers.”

“There,” she pointed to the correct drawer with her free hand.

Gambit thanked her, and the two of them walked to the kitchen. Kitty put away the ingredients she had used to make her sandwich, then waved goodbye as Gambit poured himself a glass of water. He swallowed two pills from the pack he’d snagged, closed his eyes, and waited, leaning against the counter by the sink. He was startled when Kitty suddenly came back through the wall.

“Forgot this,” she explained as shegrabbed a bag of chips.

Gambit thought it was best not to ask. She gave another quick wave, and Gambit figured walking might help relieve the pain since he doubted he’d get back to sleep easily. Exiting through the back, he walked around the pool, crossed the court, and stopped a few meters from the cliff edge, which often opened to swallow or release the Blackbird.

Less than ten minutes had passed when Gambit sensed a presence behind him. He turned his head and saw Rogue approaching, walking hesitantly. She was dressed in pajama pants and T-shirt, rubbing her arms to ward off the cold. When she got closer, he noticed her face free of makeup and how her pale skin seemed to glow under the moonlight. Without her usual makeup and with her hair loose, her face looked much more expressive.

“Kitty said she saw you heading this way,” Rogue said, as if explaining herself.

It wasn’t unusual for Rogue to be woken up by Kitty’s nighttime trips to the kitchen. Rogue was a light sleeper, and although she no longer suffered from nightmares caused by others’ memories, she still woke easily. When Kitty returned to their room and saw Rogue was awake, she casually mentioned that she’d bumped into Gambit in the infirmary. Rogue immediately remembered the headaches he’d been having and figured it must be related. She’d never admit it, but she felt worried about him, so she went looking for him. Perhaps without realizing it, she was returning the favor from when he’d come to check on her during the basketball game break.

“She nearly gave me a heart attack,” he said, exaggerating as he smiled at her.

“Yeah, Kitty has a knack for that,” Rogue replied, settling down beside him at a safe distance and smiling back. She pulled her legs up and hugged them, feeling the chill from the wind. She noticed that Gambit was wearing shorts and T-shirt and didn’t seem affected by the cold. “Aren't you cold?”

“Non. En fait, I feel kind of hot.”

“Do you have a fever?” she asked, thinking that if she were normal, she could lay her palm on his forehead.

“I don’t t’ink so,” He didn’t seem feverish, although his body felt like it was burning as if he were under heavy blankets in the middle of a New Orleans summer.

 “When Ah couldn’t sleep…” she started to say after a few moments, with a hint of hesitation in her voice and looking ahead instead of at him. She didn’t explain why she often had trouble sleeping, but Gambit knew. He was aware of the side effects of her powers. He felt a strange relief that she used the past tense, though he didn’t fully understand why. Rogue continued, “Ah did some breathing and posture exercises the Professor taught me. It helped. If you want…” She paused, hesitating slightly before continuing, looking shy and her body language showing a bit of insecurity. “Ah can show you.”

She finally looked at him, and Gambit studied her face carefully. No matter how hard she tried to hide or deny it, Rogue was empathetic and selfless. He hadn’t given her any reason to care. They weren’t friends or anything of the sort—just new teammates who barely spoke to each other. After that day in New Orleans, they hadn’t had a real conversation, and before that, they were enemies. And yet, she’d left her warm bed in the middle of a cool night to make sure he was okay.

Rogue clearly kept people at arm’s length so she wouldn’t hurt them and, perhaps, to avoid being hurt herself. Gambit not only understood that, but he also felt the same way. They were like two sides of the same coin: while Rogue withdrew because her touch could harm, Gambit did the opposite, using the physical to get what he wanted, knowing that being close physically didn’t mean being close to the heart.

“I’d love dat,” he said, accepting her help with a smile. She smiled back before lowering her eyes.

They walked back inside and up to his room in complete silence; first because it was the middle of the night, and second, she was venturing into the boys’ wing, which was strictly off-limits at that hour.

Gambit closed the door quietly, and Rogue, standing awkwardly in the middle of the room, motioned for him to lie down on the bed. She was relieved when he obeyed without making a wisecrack. Then she sat on the floor beside the bed, with her arms resting on the mattress.

In her naturally husky but gentle voice, she guided him, murmuring instructions on how to position himself, the breathing patterns he should adopt. She told him to close his eyes and created a comforting, relaxing mental scene she thought he’d like.

In the end, she smiled to see that it had worked. Gambit was asleep, breathing calmly and rhythmically. She stood up but hesitated, lingering as she looked down at his face. She’d never imagined he could look so pure and vulnerable. She felt an almost uncontrollable urge to brush her hand through his hair, so much so that her hand even moved involuntarily. She stared at her bare hands and closed her eyes tightly. Without looking back, she left the room, opening and closing the door with almost excessive care not to make a sound. She seemed to start breathing again only when she was back in her bed. She couldn’t fall into a deep sleep for the rest of the night.

° ° °

When he woke up just before dawn, Gambit’s first instinct was to look at the side of his bed. It felt so natural that it took him a few moments to understand why he’d done it. Rogue had been there hours earlier. A sad smile tugged at the corners of his lips, though he didn’t know why.

Settling himself into a more comfortable position, he closed his eyes again. In the silence and without a trace of a headache, he thought he might be able to sleep a bit longer. But to his frustration, his mind wouldn’t let him rest. Events that had led him to the mansion ran through his head like a movie.

Joining the X-Men hadn’t been a rushed decision. The invitation had come at a time when Gambit felt lost. After rescuing his father from the Assassins’ Guild, he felt that his relationship with his father had taken a turn for the better, as if his adoptive father had finally seen him for who he truly was beyond his powers.

Hope, however, could be a treacherous and blinding feeling. Soon, Gambit realized that nothing had really changed. The potential of his powers was greater than his worth as a son. As the days passed, that old restlessness returned like a silent virus under his skin, gradually turning his blood cold and clouding his thoughts. Gambit fled once again. He could have gone anywhere, but he chose to return to Bayville.

A few weeks later, Storm found him. Not only had they fought on opposite sides before, but they’d hardly exchanged a word. Even so, Gambit took a liking to the weather-wielding woman. He played hard to get, even though he’d been tempted by the idea of joining the X-Men right away. Fighting alongside the good guys seemed like a welcome change; it would be a chance to redeem himself for not taking part in the battle against Apocalypse. On top of that, it would be a challenge to see if he could live a different life.

Not to mention, Storm had been quite persuasive, making it seem as though their encounter had been by chance. But when Gambit set foot in the mansion, Professor Xavier was already waiting for him. The Professor laid out all the rules and obligations as if daring him to stay. Gambit accepted with a smile, knowing he could leave whenever he wanted—not because it was implied, but because no place could hold him down.

After a handshake sealing their verbal contract, Gambit found himself being shown to a room and introduced (or reintroduced) to everyone at Xavier’s Institute. Some welcomed him warmly, others not so much, which was almost a relief to him; he’d thought there would be more objections to an ex-Acolyte being welcomed with open arms. On the same day, he ran into Colossus and realized that accepting mutants who had once fought on the opposite side wasn’t uncommon there.

One of the things that had excited Gambit about joining the X-Men was the prospect of a life full of action, since that was exactly what he sought. His life had never been monotonous—he was always far from home on missions, heists, or robberies, which often brought the thrill of physical combat. He’d expected to find that with the X-Men. What he hadn’t foreseen was how dull the nights would be, with a curfew at nine on school nights, and eleven on weekends. To his own surprise, Gambit quickly molded himself to the mansion’s routine, finding some advantages in rules and discipline.

All in all, the good moments seemed to outweigh the bad. Despite having gone on only two missions he would consider genuinely exciting, the Danger Room training sessions were almost as thrilling as being out in the field. Plus, a mansion full of teenagers guaranteed a variety of attempts to stave off monotony.

In the beginning of Gambit’s second week at the Institute, some of the younger boys knocked on his door, inviting him to go out and, shyly asked if Gambit could teach them “how to talk to chicks.” Gambit found the request amusing and did indeed show the boys a few tricks and tips. But due to the curfew, the group returned early, even with him and Scott acting as chaperones. Scott didn’t like Gambit much, but he tolerated him well enough. After they exchanged a few words and had a drink together that night, any animosity there was between them seemed to fade.

Back in the present, Gambit was surprised to find that he felt calm, a trait he hadn’t thought was in his nature. He’d always been restless and rebellious, but now he wondered if that had been molded into him. He considered the possibility that he was just feeling numb, but concluded that it wasn’t that—it wasn’t a negative feeling. He felt good, despite the bothersome headaches that came and went. Sometimes he’d go for solitary walks around the mansion grounds and feel a sense of lightness.

With this newfound sense of peace, Gambit got up and left his room. Since it was a sunny Saturday morning with no obligations or set schedule, the Institute residents were scattered in various activities or had taken the chance to leave the mansion.

It was still fairly early—before eight o’clock—when Gambit go to the kitchen. Since everyone had freedom with their morning plans, the kitchen wasn’t crowded. A few of the senior members were preparing breakfast, wearing casual clothes instead of their combat uniforms, as was the norm. Most of the younger recruits were still sleeping, as they didn’t have school, and none of the adults were in sight.

Gambit offered to help with the meal and then sat down to eat with them, something he subtly avoided doing on most days. However, this wasn’t an abrupt or deliberate change; he just felt comfortable enough to socialize.

He wasn’t about to pour his heart out and start sharing his life story—it wasn’t just that he wasn’t ready for that step; it didn’t suit his personality. Being reserved, even a bit mysterious, wasn’t simply an aspect of a well-crafted persona; it was who he truly was.

Nonetheless, making small talk and laughing about trivial matters did him good, made him feel genuinely welcomed. He realized that if there was any hostility left, it was now gone.

Over breakfast, Kitty and Kurt chattered almost non-stop, while Jean contributed with occasional insightful comments. Scott and Rogue remained quieter, though Rogue did make some sarcastic, witty remarks with just a hint of dark humor and grumpiness.

When the couple left and the last topic of conversation died down, Gambit saw an opening to remind Rogue about the place she’d promised to take him a week earlier.

“How ‘bout showing me dat place you mentioned, chère?” Gambit suggested, casually and without caring if the other two mutants in the room overheard.

Rogue shot him a mildly irritated look from across the table. He could’ve waited until they were alone to say anything about that. Her irritation turned to annoyance when she noticed Kitty’s excited expression. Kitty pretended not to have heard, but as she was terrible at dissimulating, she would definitely bring it up at the first opportunity. Kitty’s presence was risky not only because of the insinuations Rogue would have to hear later, but also because Kitty was nosy. If Rogue lied and said she couldn’t go—which was her intention—Kitty would likely butt in and, not-so-subtly, contradict her.

“All right,” Rogue replied, somewhat reluctantly. Then she added decisively, “Today at noon.”

“But we were supposed to have lunch together today,” Kurt was saying when Kitty practically yanked his arm, dragging him out of the kitchen.

“Actually, you promised to have lunch with me, remember?” she said loudly enough to be heard before whispering into his ear, threateningly, “Get a clue, Elf. If you pull something like that again, I’ll end you.”

Gambit chuckled softly, amused by the situation. Rogue, however, feeling embarrassed, got up and left the kitchen at a leisurely pace, though what she really wanted was to bolt out of there. Deep down, she felt proud of her patience and the indifferent face she’d managed to put on.

He watched her leave, unknowingly letting his smile fade. He felt a strong urge to talk to her alone and realized he’d just missed the chance. At least there was lunch, he thought, leaning back in his chair and lifting his coffee cup to chin level. With a sly smile, he decided that if she bailed, he’d go after her to settle the score.

° ° °

When Gambit left his room, precisely at noon, he found Rogue sitting by his door, leaning against the wall with a look that clearly said she didn’t want to be there. She was wearing sneakers, skinny jeans, a cropped tank top, and a lightweight dark green jacket; parts of her stomach, collarbone, and neck were exposed—a significant change from the sweatsuit she’d worn that morning. She stood up reluctantly but was secretly relieved to see that Gambit was also dressed casually, in jeans and a T-shirt.

“If we walk, we can get there in about twenty minutes,” she informed him, and he nodded.

The two descended the stairs and crossed the main hall in silence. As soon as they stepped out the front door, Gambit spoke in a teasing tone:

“Why do you keep looking over your shoulder? Are you afraid someone’s gonna see you wit’ me?”

Rogue stopped in front of the door and exhaled forcefully.

“Ah spent all morning dodging Kitty. Why’d you have to ask about lunch in front of her? Now she’s going to want to know every single detail because she thinks we’re on a date.”

Gambit just looked at her with a mocking smile tugging at the corner of his lips. Rogue scowled.

“This isn’t a date,” she said, firmly.

Gambit stepped closer, leaning his right shoulder against the doorframe and crossing his arms over his chest.

“You sure?”

“Absolutely,” she shot back confidently, though her cheeks flushed, something she chalked up to anger.

Gambit didn’t seem convinced. He leaned in toward her, forcing her to look up at him. He studied her face intently, noticing that her lips had a faint lilac-pink hue, and her eyes were lined in brown without any eyeshadow, making the green in her eyes pop.

“You’re sure you’re not into me?”

Managing to keep an indifferent expression despite feeling her face heat up, Rogue gave him a light push with her gloved hands, took two steps forward, then turned back to him with a determined look.

“Not even if you were the only guy Ah could touch.”

Gambit’s expression shifted from mild surprise to amused and finally to a look of feigned pain. Then his face transformed again, now with a mischievous glint.

“Always thought you had a crush on me, even back den.”

“You’re full of yourself and completely out of touch with reality,” she shot back, rolling her eyes. Inside, her heart pounded, as if he’d found out her secret. Still, she managed to change tactics. “You know what? Ah don’t feel like going anymore.”

Gambit raised his hands in surrender, a grin on his face. He loved that feisty attitude. By the slight twitch at the corner of her lips, he could tell she was enjoying their banter too.

“All right, you win. I won’t bring up dat crush you’ve got on me.” He then burst into laughter at her annoyed expression. “Just kidding,” he tried to appease, still holding back a chuckle. “Shall we go?”

She took a moment to reply but eventually gave in. Putting it off would only make it worse.

“How’s your headache?” she asked as they passed through the mansion’s gate, after walking in silence for a few minutes.

Gambit hesitated to answer, weighing whether or not it made sense to lie. Rogue knew about his migraines and had kept it a secret. Not only could he trust her, but also confide in her. He realized that it felt good to have someone to open up to, even though she hadn’t initially shown any interest in spending time with him. Even now, he knew she was only concerned for his headaches.

“It comes and goes,” he replied at last. “But the exercises you showed me last night worked.”

Rogue smiled with genuine satisfaction, and he found himself staring at her smile. She noticed his gaze, and her cheeks flushed again, but this time she didn’t mind the pleasant fluttering feeling in her stomach.

They walked the rest of the way in near silence. It wasn’t unpleasant, though both felt slightly self-conscious.

As Rogue had promised, they reached the restaurant in twenty minutes. They sat near a window, toward the back, as she suggested. Despite the somewhat stereotypical and slightly tacky decor, the restaurant was small, cozy, and welcoming, not to mention the intoxicating smell of spicy Cajun cooking that filled the air.

The food was what Gambit missed most when he was away from home. While there were plenty of restaurants around, it was rare to find one that felt authentic. This place seemed promising. Gambit barely glanced at the menu.

They placed their orders and exchanged only a few words as they waited for their food. When the dishes arrived, their appetites perked up, leading them to become more talkative.

“So, you’re taking a gap year?” Gambit asked, dipping a piece of bread into the thick, spicy sauce.

“Kinda,” Rogue replied, starting off a bit shy, talking between bites, but soon relaxing. “Ah mean, Ah finished high school last year, and Ah decided to stay at the mansion, mentoring the recruits. I’m happy for now.”

Gambit, perceptive as ever, noted that she was probably afraid of leaving the mansion’s safety, where everyone not only knew she was a mutant but also understood what her powers entailed. Maybe she wasn’t even fully aware of this.

After a brief silence, Gambit decided to take a risk by bringing up her powers, even though he knew it was a sensitive topic.

“Having the Professor around to help wit’ your powers is a nice bonus, n’est-ce pas ?

For a second, a pained expression crossed Rogue’s face.

“The Professor hasn’t managed to help me, at least not with control,” she replied, avoiding his eyes. Naïvely, she didn’t realize Gambit was asking because he himself feared his own powers were starting to slip out of control, and if the baldy hadn’t been able to help Rogue after three years, what chances did Gambit have of finding help?

When his headaches had started shortly after joining the X-Men, Gambit thought his timing had been fortunate. He quickly figured out that his headaches were related to his powers and thought he’d have help at the mansion if he needed it, though he didn’t actually want to ask for it. So far, only Rogue had noticed something was wrong with him. She was observant and couldn’t pretend not to care. In truth, she cared far too much. Gambit suspected she’d be willing to risk her life for her teammates, and he couldn’t understand how that was possible.

The sorrowful look that filled her eyes made Gambit feel guilty for his selfish question, but there was no way to take it back. He knew that telling her she’d eventually gain control wouldn’t offer any comfort. So instead, he changed the subject, trying to lighten the mood. He moved on to more trivial matters, which eventually drew Rogue’s interest again, especially when they started talking about music.

“You were right,” he said as they left the restaurant. “The food here is really great.”

Rogue looked up at him with a satisfied smile, which would have been the same as saying that it was obvious she was right.

“Do you come here often?” he wanted to know.

“I’ve been here a couple of times. Ah don’t really crave gumbo that often,” she added with a teasing chuckle, glancing at him from the corner of her eye.

“Not even when you t’ink o’ me?” he asked with that exasperating, cocky grin.

“Ah don’t think of you,” she retorted without hesitation.

Not even slighted convinced, Gambit spun on his heels, took a few steps backward, and placed himself in front of her, making her stop. He stared at her for a few seconds with narrowed eyes. With satisfaction, he watched her cheeks take on a deep crimson hue.

“You’re telling me you haven’t thought about me even once in the past few months?” he challenged, daring her to keep up the lie.

Clearly that Rogue had thought of him—more often than she cared to admit. Some things were impossible to dissociate from him. Yet, she’d never confess that to anyone, especially not to him. Gambit didn’t need any more strokes to his ego.

She gave a very convincing huff and was about to deny it again, but then she realized there were other ways to handle Gambit’s arrogance, the most effective of which was to counter with another question.

“Have you thought of me?” she asked, looking directly and confidently into his eyes with an innate boldness that she usually kept hidden.

He held her gaze.

“A few times,” he finally answered. Although he made it sound like a lie, it wasn’t. Unexplicably, Rogue occasionaly crossed his mind.

Her mouth formed a small O of surprise as her cheeks grew even redder, with a warmth spreading to her ears.

“Liar,” she muttered, after composing herself, not quite sure how to answer back. She turned away from him and kept walking. Deep down, she felt a bit disappointed that he didn’t say anything else.

They made their way back in silence. 

“Thanks,” he said when they were almost at the mansion's front door. This time, there was no affectation in his voice, just sincerity. “I needed somet’ing familiar. Southerners gotta stick together, huh?” he added, offering the genuine version of his smile. 

Rogue realized she really liked that smile, so much that she returned it. Feeling oddly shy, her mouth went dry, and she didn’t say another word.

Gambit could’ve added that the meal made him feel at home, but she already did that for him.

° ° °          

At night, Gambit walked around the mansion, realizing he didn’t want to be alone. Normally, he’d leave the mansion to find some bar, some fleeting company, and probably spend the night away. But that wasn’t what he wanted tonight. Staying seemed enough.

After walking for a few minutes, Gambit found most of the residents gathered in the game room, where a dozen teenagers were engaged in a heated ping-pong match while others were split between watching, chatting, or engaging in other activities.

Taking in the lightness of the scene, Gambit hesitated at the door for a moment before stepping inside. His gaze instinctively sought Rogue, and he quickly spotted her, curled up on a couch in the left corner of the large room.

“Hey, chérie,” he said, settling comfortably on the opposite end of the couch, leaving a seat between them.

Rogue withdrew a bit more and held the pillow she was hugging even tighter, like a shield, though Gambit wasn’t invading her personal space.

“Hi, Gambit,” she greeted him as casually as possible, casting only a brief glance his way. She felt her body tense under the loose sweatsuit, so she made a conscious effort to relax. Gambit hadn’t left her thoughts all day, and Rogue wasn’t sure what to do with the confusion of feelings she had for him.

Gambit studied her profile, wondering why she looked so uncomfortable. With a slight shiver, he realized it wasn’t just discomfort, it was fear. He turned slightly toward her, but whatever he was about to say was cut short when Kurt teleported between them.

Rogue jumped, startled, and wondered if her brother had noticed something and wanted to protect her from Gambit’s clutches or if he was just being oblivious. Judging by his cheerful chatter, she figured it was the latter. Fortunately, or unfortunately—Rogue couldn’t decide—Kurt’s turn in the ping-pong match came up, and he teleported to his spot at the table, paddle in hand.

Gambit chuckled softly and turned his eyes to the game. Rogue took the opportunity to glance around surreptitiously, worried that Kitty might show up at any moment. Since a few other girls were also absent, she hoped her roommate was occupied elsewhere.

It was embarrassing to admit, but Rogue had been looking around all day since returning from the restaurant with Gambit—from what had definitely not been a date. She managed to slip back to her room unnoticed, but to her dismay, Kitty had shown up shortly after and stared at her for a full minute until Rogue lost her patience and asked, annoyed, what the problem was. Kitty asked how her date with Gambit went, to which Rogue shot back that it wasn’t a date.

Kitty would have kept insisting, but fortunately for Rogue, she was called away and, reluctantly, had to leave. They hadn’t crossed paths again during the day, so Rogue planned to pretend she was asleep at night, hoping Kitty would eventually drop the topic.

“When you feel like going out again, I’m in,” Gambit said suddenly, snapping Rogue back to reality. This was the second time he’d seen her without the heavy makeup, and he decided he much preferred her face this way. It gave her an air of frankness and boldness that suited her honest and indomitable personality. Gambit wondered how she managed to be so sweet and understanding despite everything.

Despite the turmoil she felt inside, Rogue found herself responding with a genuine smile, giving him a silent yes. She avoided his eyes and bit her lower lip shyly, which he found adorable. There were facets to her he hadn’t noticed before, though something about her had intrigued him from the start. He found her obscenely beautiful, though she seemed oblivious to it, while her powers presented a delicious challenge.

Gambit’s light expression was suddenly interrupted as a sharp pain shot behind his eyes and across his forehead, causing him to wince in pain.

“You felt it again, didn’t you?” Rogue asked quietly, leaning toward him involuntarily.

He nodded slightly.

“Is it getting worse?”

“Non,” he lied. “You want to take a walk? It helps ease the pain.”

After a brief hesitation, Rogue nodded, and they slipped out unnoticed. Silently, they walked outside, side by side, making their way around the mansion. As they circled the pool, Gambit noticed Rogue’s eyes on the water. He hadn’t been at the mansion long, but he’d seen others enjoying the pool on hot days, everyone except Rogue, who always stayed at the edge, sometimes with a melancholic look. She was a river rat, for years deprived of the pleasure of wearing a swimsuit and swimming in the sun. Gambit said nothing, knowing it all came down to her powers.

A pang of anguish hit him as he wondered what kind of misfortune his own powers might bring if they really got out of control. The thought sent a cold shiver through him, like a bad omen.

His introspection didn’t go unnoticed by Rogue, who thought it seemed out of character for him. Not knowing what to say, she shared the silence as they continued walking slowly. Rogue was usually comfortable with silence, but at that moment, she felt an overwhelming urge to hear his voice. She didn’t understand why but felt less inclined to question it.

She looked up at his face and watched him for a while until he noticed. When he finally did, he seemed to be back to being himself, and flashed that smile that made her limbs go weak.

“You’ve ignored me since you got here,” she blurted out before she could lose the courage. “Why are you getting close to me now?” Despite trying to make it sound like a tease, there was a slight tremor in her voice that betrayed her genuine desire to understand.

She’d thought about initiating conversation with him a few times, but she’d chickened out each time. It wasn’t easy, nor natural, for her to consciously try to get closer to someone. When she remembered how easy it had been to talk to Gambit that one day, when there were no restraints, only cumplicity and lack of inhibition, her chest tightened. When Gambit arrived at the mansion, he’d seemed unreachable, with the distance of a sea between them, as if he’d forgotten the hours they’d spent together. But when he revealed he’d thought of her, Rogue felt a flutter in her stomach that returned every time she recalled it, accompanied by a silly grin.

They had crossed the court and reached the wooded area at the back of the mansion. Gambit stopped when he heard her question and tilted his head slightly, his eyes shifting back and forth, his brow furrowing as if he’d just realized how detached he’d been since arriving and was now trying to understand his own motivations.

“I didn’t... it wasn’t intentional,” he lifted his eyes to meet hers, as she had also stopped and turned toward him. “When I got here, I didn’t know if I really wanted to stay. It took me almost a month to unpack."

It wasn’t entirely true. Gambit was aware that there were plenty of arguments against him. Not only had he been part of the Acolytes and fought against the X-Men on numerous occasions, but he had also kidnapped Rogue, deceived her, and manipulated her into helping him rescue his adoptive father, who hardly deserved it. He’d watched her for days before recklessly dragging her onto a freight train headed for New Orleans. He hadn’t lied when he said he thought she looked sad, but it had also been an excuse to talk her into helping him.

Of course, it wasn’t all black and white. As much as his actions had been impersonal and each step had been premeditated—including the encounter with the rival Guild—there was one thing Gambit hadn’t anticipated: they had connected. Despite his false pretenses, sitting across from her at the bar, drinking and talking, had been real. There was a tacit understanding between them, something that went far beyond their obvious similarities, like both growing up in the same region and having terrible adoptive parents. Their honest conversation had been unexpected, as had the guilt he felt when she found out his true intentions.

After concluding that her place was with the X-Men and leaving a card in her hand before walking away, Rogue lingered in his thoughts. Even so, days later, after he was once again caught up in his Guild’s affaires, the memory of her faded, though not entirely.

Arriving at the Institute, it was easier to put on a mask and keep his bravado, though it was becoming harder and harder, so much so that, even against his instincts for self-preservation, Gambit chose to be honest with her.

“Eh bien, I figured you didn’t want me getting close to you. You didn’t exactly try to strike up a conversation wit’ me, either.”

“It ain’t like me to start conversations,” Rogue replied, looking away.

He smiled, though she didn’t see it as she was looking down.

“When I put the Queen of Hearts in your hand,” she finally looked up at his face, “it meant farewell.” He looked into her eyes intensely as he mentioned the card, as if seeking confirmation that she remembered the gesture.

“’Cause you didn’t want to see me again?"”she teased playfully, with a shy but naughty smile.

“The exact opposite; I wanted you to remember me. Though you didn’t,” he added in a challenging tone, wanting to be sure she was lying when she said she hadn’t thought of him even once. When Rogue looked away, he had his answer. “You keep it? The card?”

“Of course not,” she replied so quickly it sounded rude. Her face turned so red that her eyes teared up, and she wished she could sink into the floor.

“Oh,” was all he said, evidently disappointed, though he knew that statement was also a lie. He wondered if her embarrassment came from not wanting to admit she’d kept the card or from having thought of him—maybe both. Ironically, as she lied, Gambit felt exposed enough to make a confession. “À vrai direr... I don’t know what I’m doing here, Rogue, playing superhero. I feel like an impostor, like I’m about to be unmasked at any moment and den asked to leave.” He surprised himself with the sincerity that poured out; it was as if Rogue had the power to draw his true feelings out of him, and he still didn’t know how he felt about that.

Rogue took a step closer and offered a sympathetic smile. Once again, she chose to be empathetic—or perhaps it wasn’t a choice at all; it was simply her nature.

“Ah felt the same way in my first months here,” she confessed, tucking a strand of white hair behind her ear shyly. She quickly looked up at him, then down again. “Ah don’t know if you know, but Ah spent some time with the Brotherhood. It was Mystique’s setup—she made me believe the X-Men wanted to hurt me rather than help. And I fell for it. When Ah arrived at the Institute, Ah thought Ah’d be kicked out at any moment, even with everyone being so kind to me.”

He understood what she was trying to do, but his eyes remained sad.

“I was a real enemy, Rogue.”

“Everyone deserves a second chance.”

He observed her with a slight frown, his eyes filled with curiosity.

“Don’t look at me like that,” she said, slightly embarrassed. “I’m not being naïve.”

“I don’t think you are,” he said, his half-closed eyes drifting down to her mouth, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed.

“Anyway,” she said, shifting the subject, “the X-Men take anyone.”

He gave her a skeptical look, but when she burst out laughing, he did the same. The seriousness and tension dissipated and the mood became light again. They resumed walking.

“Ah think it’s you who’s into me, Gambit,” she shot back so suddenly that he couldn’t hide an expression of surprise. When he didn’t respond, she continued. “You accused me, but it’s you who can’t stop looking my way.” Rogue felt incredibly proud of herself for saying all that without stuttering and with a completely innocent expression, though her legs were shaky and her heart pounded so loudly she could feel it in her ears.

But Gambit quickly regained his composure. Putting him on the spot didn’t work; he had no shame in admitting interest, nor any trouble lying or playing the scoundrel. The truth was, he’d thought about it a few times, about how much she attracted him.

“Just say you want it, chère.”

Feigning disinterest, Rogue looked him in the eye; she couldn’t think of a clever retort. Although she’d missed the timing, she replied, “You’d have to catch me first,” before suddenly dashing off.

Gambit watched her run out of sight. He imagined what it would be like to catch her and take her in his arms. Despite the pleasant fantasy, a pang in his chest brought him back to reality, forcing him to see that it wasn’t possible—and not just because of her powers.

° ° °

Over the next few days, Gambit became more involved in activities with the X-Men. He stopped making excuses to skip tasks he found boring and was even more engaged in non-mandatory ones. This change kept him busy, so he hadn’t had the chance to speak with Rogue alone, as she was caught up in her own tasks. Still, they managed to exchange a few words, and each time they saw each other, they shared a complicit smile.

However, his headaches were gradually worsening. Additionally, Gambit noticed that his body temperature always seemed elevated, and he felt a slight tingling in his joints. He’d snagged some stronger painkillers, but they were only a temporary fix. He tried not to let the discomfort show. Sometimes, during group activities, he noticed Rogue watching him out of the corner of her eye, pretending not to be concerned but always checking to see if he was alright.

As brief as their interactions had been in those days, Gambit always took things a step further, getting closer to her than others dared. He nudged her arm, brushed his leg against hers, and on one occasion, even took her hand, wishing he could pull off her glove with his teeth. But whatever he was about to do next was interrupted by another sharp pain behind his eyes. Gambit wondered if the intensity of the pain was somehow connected to what he was feeling. He began to pay attention if the pain grew stronger when his emotions ran high.

One night, the two of them slipped away to the back of the mansion, to the same spot where Rogue had found him in the middle of the night the first time, and they talked into the early hours without realizing it. Though they only talked about light and trivial things, it was becoming harder to deny the physical attraction. The urge that had always driven Rogue to run didn’t leave her, but her desire to be with Gambit overpowered it. They were both sure they could spend hours together, just talking and flirting and teasing.

At one point, after their eyes had been locked for a long, hesitant moment, Gambit stood up, and, with a forced, artificial smile, extended his hand to help her up. Afraid of his unpredictability and always mindful of the danger of hurting him, Rogue ignored the gesture and got up without his help. Unsure what to do with her hands, she patted the back of her pants to brush off any stray grass. Saying goodnight, Gambit headed in the opposite direction from hers.

They each snuck back to their rooms and lay down in bed, feeling terribly alone. Neither of them slept well that night.

When they met again in the morning, Rogue felt a familiar awkwardness when she remembered she had dreamed of him, though she couldn’t recall the content.

“Get any sleep, chère?” Gambit asked, trying to sound as if he was only concerned because they’d stayed up so late.

Rogue nodded a bit too eagerly, then yawned as if to contradict herself. Her cheeks flushed slightly.

After that, they went their separate ways and only met up again late in the afternoon. It was the last Friday of the month, when only senior members were called for Danger Room sessions. This time, the simulations were individual, with each course specially designed to challenge and hone each member’s abilities. The concept, developed by Hank, was met with excitement.

The simulation order had been predetermined. The leader, Cyclops, went first, facing a cityscape scenario with civilians in danger. In his scenario, he practiced his leadership skills and had to find new ways to use his powers.

Similarly, in her own simulation, Jean used her telekinetic powers; Kurt had plenty of places to teleport; Kitty had obstacles to phase through, and so on.

Gambit noticed that Rogue was anxious while waiting for her turn. She fidgeted with her fingers and tapped her foot on the floor, nervous. He sidled up beside her, casually.

“You’ll do fine, Rogue.”

She shot him a brief, sidelong glance.

“Mah powers are useless if Ah don’t have someone to touch.”

“I’ll lend you some of my energy, chérie,” Gambit murmured with a roguish grin. “Just ask; no one will notice.”

Rogue couldn’t help but smile. He made everything sound dirty.

“Thanks, Cajun, but that’d be cheating.”

In the end, Rogue’s course felt more like an obstacle race, testing her strength and endurance. It was physically demanding, but there was no other way, she thought, a bit disheartened. She did well, given she was in excellent shape and well-trained, but it was disappointing that there wasn’t at least some hand-to-hand combat.

When it was Gambit’s turn, he positioned himself at the starting line with an eager smile of anticipation. The scenario materialized before his eyes. It resembled a labyrinth filled with moving obstacles. Right from the start, Gambit found himself in a corridor with moving lasers that flashed on and off in unpredictable patterns, which he dodged with near-contortionist acrobatics. After that came quickly closing doors and moving platforms that required agility and precision. Mid-somersault, he tossed cards to trigger a mechanism unlocking the next path.

Gambit then entered a large room with floating platforms that moved in various directions. Some were unstable or slid rapidly. He had to time his jumps precisely, using his kinetically charged cards to create small explosions that stabilized or altered the platforms' directions. He also encountered hidden traps, which he dodged and escaped.

Despite the high difficulty, Gambit was doing exceptionally well. He seemed to enjoy the ease with which he overcame every obstacle. Wolverine growled in dissatisfaction, wanting to scold Hank for what he felt was an overly lenient setup for the Cajun.

The end of the course was close. With a cocky grin, Gambit tossed some cards to blow up a wall that appeared from the floor in front of him. Just as he was about to cross the finish line with the best time in the group, projectiles came at him from two directions. He deflected them with his staff and threw charged cards to destroy the device launching the projectiles.

But just before the end, one last obstacle appeared: another wall. Gambit vaulted over it, using his staff to propel himself through the air, twisting backward and throwing a series of cards at the center of the wall, landing on the finish line in a triumphant pose.

That was the moment when one of his charged cards he held between his fingers seemed to slip from his control and exploded with excessive force. Gambit barely let go in time to prevent it from blowing up in his hand, and the impact hurled him against the wall. The others, watching from the other side of the room, would have been hit by the blast if Jean hadn’t managed to contain it with a psychic barrier.

Panting and alarmed, everyone stared at Gambit, who, despite the violent impact, was already getting to his feet.

Quickly, Wolverine stormed toward Gambit, who, dazed, couldn’t stop but being shoved against the wall. Wolverine didn’t care if the young man might be injured.

“What the hell were you thinking, putting everyone at risk like that?” Wolverine bellowed, spit dripping from his chin.

Pinned down and dizzy, Gambit shoved him hard, but Wolverine didn’t let go.

“It was an accident, mon ami,” Gambit finally managed to say. His head was spinning, and there was a persistent ringing in his ears. “If you didn’t notice, I got the worst of it.”

Rogue rushed toward them as Wolverine’s claws extended, coming dangerously close to Gambit’s throat.

“Logan, no! Stop!” She pulled on his veined arm, trying to make him release Gambit. “It was an accident.”

Gambit pushed Wolverine once more, and with the slight opening, he landed a knee into the older man’s stomach, forcing him to step back, finally letting him go. Gambit was about to kick Wolverine in the face when Rogue stepped between them, and he aborted the moviment just in time.

At that moment, Hank came rushing down from the control room to calm things down.

“Is everyone alright?” he asked. All heads nodded. “Logan, we need to talk.” Hank’s tone, unusually stern, indicated he disapproved of Wolverine’s excessive aggression. Wolverine wouldn’t have treated his other students this way, and it was time he realized Gambit was one of them, too. Hank turned to Gambit. “Are you alright, my dear friend? Come to my office so I can take a look at you.”

“Merci, doc. But I’m fine.” Gambit adjusted his coat, brushing off invisible dust as he always did, masking his unease with his usual confidence. He walked over to the others. “I’m sorry, it was an accident.” He finished, swallowing his pride. He could feel Rogue’s gaze on him but didn’t have the courage to look back at her.

He walked out of the Danger Room, and Rogue quickly followed. She called after him twice, but Gambit didn’t turn around. Quickening her pace, she caught up and grabbed his arm, forcing him to stop and face her.

“You need to ask for help,” she said pleadingly, then added, as if apologizing, “Before you hurt someone. Before you hurt yourself.”

“I don’t…” He didn’t finish, but she understood he meant to say he had no one to turn to. It wasn’t true; he had everyone. He had her.

“Let me help you,” Rogue said, gathering her courage but unable to meet his eyes, clenching her fists tightly. She felt both foolish and anxious, afraid he’d mock her. After all, what good was a girl who couldn’t control her own powers in helping him with his?

To her surprise, Gambit nodded silently. He didn’t know how she could help, or even if she could, but he wanted her nearby.

“Ah have an idea,” she said. “Meet me out back, where we talked last night.”

Gambit nodded, then turned and walked away slowly, his head down and hands in his pockets.

Hurriedly, Rogue returned to the Danger Room and explained that Gambit was fine but wouldn’t be coming back. Since he’d been the last one to go, everyone was dismissed without any final performance feedback. Rogue waited, watching the others until she was sure no one would notice her leaving, then dashed outside.

Gambit was already there, sitting on the grass. She looked around once again to make sure they were alone. It was nearly dark, and they’d be shielded by the trees, and the court and the pool would remain empty.

“After today, you won’t be able to hide it anymore,” she said as she approached, her voice carrying no accusations, only sweetness. She knew what it was like to lose control, how desperate it felt.

“And yet you still want to help me,” He raised his weary eyes to her.

“Ah do,” she said, kneeling down in front of him.

“Why?”

She looked down, and did not answer. “Explain to me what you’re feeling.”

Gambit thought for a moment.

“I feel like my powers are ‘bout to slip outta my control. Dere’s more power dan I can handle.” He flexed his fingers, his joints aching and burning, just like his eyes. Right before the uncontrollable explosion, Gambit had felt the sharpest pain behind his eyes so far. His headache hadn’t completely gone away for the past two days.

Rogue sat back on her legs and, hesitant, looked at her own hands in her lap before removing her right glove and reaching out her bare hand toward him.

“Ah can drain the excess,” she offered, swallowing hard. “But you’ll have to trust me. Ah don’t have control, so Ah might… might take more than Ah should… but I’ll try to take only the excess.”

Gambit looked at her with tenderness, despite his fatigue. In the dim light, she noticed the shadows under his eyes, the faint pallor. He looked away.

“I can’t let you put yourself in danger, Rogue,” he said firmly, though he trusted her and, to his surprise, didn’t fear that she might end up absorbing more than just his powers.

Rogue gave him a slight look of disdain and let out a quick, scornful exhale.

“What good is mah mutant power if Ah cain’t use it to help?” But her voice was weak, filled with shame for insisting when she couldn’t even control it. “Mah touch has always served the purpose of harming, but this time, for the first time, Ah feel Ah can help you, Remy.”

At the mention of his name, he quickly looked up at her noticing the sadness in her expression as she watched him. That was the first time Rogue called him by his real name, and Gambit felt as though he’d been split open and laid bare by this unexpected act of intimacy.

“Alright,” his lips barely moved as he spoke.

Satisfied, Rogue smiled at him before closing her eyes and steadying her breathing. She focused, though she couldn’t stop her heart from racing as she brought her hand closer to his. Slowly, she touched his palm with tentative fingers, then, in one swift motion, grasped his hand firmly.

Then came the moment she feared, when she felt the absorption begin, overtaking her in a wave of pain. Rogue gasped as the surge of power flowed into her body. Unable to avoid it, she caught glimpses of his memories and feelings, and when this happened, she jerked her hand back, breaking contact. When she managed to lift her eyes to his face, she saw Gambit was pale but seemed relieved. He drew a deep breath, as if he hadn’t been breathing properly for days.

“Are you alright?” was the first thing he said, despite his own pain. The thought that she might have hurt herself because of him was frightening.

“How’d you handle it alone?” she asked, sobbing. She was crying uncontrollably, not for the pain she felt but for the pain he had been enduring.

Gambit felt his own eyes misting.

“No one’s ever cried like that for me,” he confessed, almost as if he hadn’t realized he’d said it out loud.

He’d never had anyone. If he came back hurt from a job, he patched himself up, stitching his own wounds if he had to. He’d been a gamin for years; even with a place to sleep, he roamed most of the time. Even after being adopted, he never felt loved, and when love was offered, he felt he didn’t deserve it. When he sensed tenderness from his father, he reminded himself he’d been adopted because of his powers, which emerged at puberty. The few times he tried to trust, he felt disappointed or that he’d let others down. And he would let her down too. This girl, who wasn’t so different from him and who risked her own well-being to ease his pain.

With his fingertips, Gambit wiped away the black-streaked tears from her cheek. Rogue seemed to take a few seconds to process what was happening.

“How?” She asked, astonished, as more tears fell, though her eyes were wide open.

“I don’t know,” he replied, his brow furrowing in confusion, as surprised as she was. “I felt resistance when you touched me and had to make a conscious effort to let you drain me.”

Instinctively, the hand that wiped away her tears also caressed her face, which tilted slightly toward the warmth of his palm. Gambit leaned toward her, and Rogue lowered her head.

Despite all the flirting and smiles exchanged over the past few days, in that moment, Gambit felt the same when he watched her run from him. He understood that the shiver of foreboding he’d been ignoring was the undeniable truth. He had always trusted his instincts, and by trying not to listen to them, ignoring them for the first time, it had led him to this moment.

Contrary to what she might think, it wasn’t the vanity of touching the untouchable girl that drove him but a deep feeling he’d carried for a long time, one that would have led him to kiss her much sooner if not for her powers. Now that he could, she had rejected him. Of course, she would reject him—he was just a selfish thief pretending to be an X-Man.

When Rogue finally looked up, Gambit was gone.

xXxXx