Chapter Text
XxXxX
It was easy to get lost in the smoky atmosphere of the bar, whose air, though dense, was inviting and relaxing. Unfortunately, she would soon have to leave and return to the life she was used to.
She loved the dysfunctional family she’d found at the Institute, but she would be lying if she said she did not feel suffocated sometimes. It was something that came from inside her. When she was alone, she felt the weight of her role on the team and of her powers grow heavier and begin to crush her. That was why, occasionally, she found a way to get away and, just for a few hours, fool herself with the feeling of being normal somewhere no one knew who she was or what her powers were capable of.
Sitting at the counter of some random bar, she was just someone looking for something. She looked at the people around her and wondered what their stories were, each one the protagonist of their own life. If anyone tried to guess what her story was, they would never even come close. She smiled at the thought, as if it were a secret of her own.
She lifted a glass of bourbon in her gloved hands and brought it to her lips, painted in a deep carmine red, so dark that in that light it looked almost black. Against her pale skin, it gave her the look of a porcelain doll.
She took a short sip of the drink, feeling the sweetness that lingered after the taste of alcohol faded. She would make the drink last, because she knew she shouldn’t order another one. No one could know about her little escapes, and if she came back smelling of alcohol or slightly tipsy, it would be hard to lie if she was caught. Having just turned twenty, she was still not of legal drinking age, but since she usually walked the line, she enjoyed that small act of rebellion.
She closed her eyes and let herself drift, listening to the music in the background and the muffled sound of the cacophony of voices. It was her first time in that particular place, but she already liked it. It was neither crowded nor noisy, while the soft jazz in the background was wonderful and familiar. All of it made her remember a certain bar in New Orleans. It was funny how she hadn’t thought about that day in months. More than a year and a half had passed, and suddenly she was transported back to that place.
Now, she could no longer tell which memories were real and what she had reinforced in her own head after spending so many weeks remembering those moments after returning home — something she had never confided to anyone. At night, lying in bed unable to sleep, she relived the colors, the smells, the sensations she had experienced.
It had ended with the bitterness of betrayal, of having once again been manipulated and used for someone else’s interests. However, that pain had faded quickly, because she had forgiven him. She understood his motivations and did not condemn him.
At the end of that day, as she questioned her own reasons for having been so understanding, she considered whether her empathy had stemmed from the fact that she had touched him. She had thrown herself toward him to escape the security cameras of the place they were about to invade, where his father was being held hostage. The two of them had gone rolling down the slope, which had culminated in her thumb brushing against his face.
A touch so subtle, so brief, but enough for her to steal the thoughts at the forefront of his mind — a sample of what her powers were capable of, of how dangerous they were.
However, she had dismissed that possibility, because days later — long after the remnants of his presence had dwindled from her mind — she still felt the same. The fact that those had been the specific thoughts she had captured was a sign that he already felt guilty.
In the end, she realized she’d returned slightly changed; less furious at the unfairness her powers had imposed on her and with the impetuous desire to run away soothed. Since then, she’d been changing so gradually that she could almost believe she hadn’t changed at all.
Taking another sip of her drink, she smiled despite herself. She would love to be back in New Orleans; in a few months, it would be Mardi Gras again. The thought caused a pang in her chest, since it was virtually impossible for her to separate the festival from the memory of the Cajun with whom she had spent that day.
That young man who had begun as an enemy, the same one who later fought by their side, but who had not shown up when all the other mutants had banded together. But she didn’t blame him for that; she understood that he’d been trapped in that city, with people he knew had used him, but who were still his family.
The young man occasionally sprang to mind, awakened by certain words, sounds, or details that reminded her of him. Despite everything, he had become more of a comforting memory than anything else.
She pondered about that as well, and understood that she felt soothed because he hadn’t made her feel like a freak, as so often happened. He would come close to her without hesitation — he was either far too reckless or truly not afraid of her powers; he treated her as an equal, without underestimating her. Except for the ulterior motives regarding her powers, the two of them had talked as if they were old friends, opening up and telling their stories, realizing how similar they were, although their choices had set them on different pathsg. They’d made an excellent team fighting side by side. Deep down, she had always regretted not asking him what he would have done if she had chosen not to return with the X-Men, though she suspected he had never truly believed she would choose to stay.
She shook her head to chase the thoughts away. The drink had to be taking effect for her to be having such silly ideas. She even admitted that maybe she had developed a little crush on him, even before New Orleans, and wondered whether that feeling had clouded her judgment and decisions. She could not help it, though. He seemed to have so many qualities she was drawn to. The cadence of his voice was soft and familiar; his unusual eyes, though they fled from hers more often than they held them, made it clear that she had his full attention when they finally met hers.
She took one last, long sip to finish her drink. As she looked at the lipstick marks on the glass, she realized it was already past midnight. She decided it was time to go before the night got too late. She still had to find a way back to the Institute and sneak into her room unnoticed.
Before she had worked up the will to get up, she noticed, in her peripheral vision, a tall silhouette approaching. He smelled of cologne with a faint hint of tobacco. When she realized the man was about to sit beside her, she hurried to say:
“Get lost. Ah ain’t interested.”
“As much as I’d love to buy you a drink, chère, dat’s not why I’m here.”
Rogue felt herself freeze to the bone and turned her face toward the source of the voice, who had just sat down on the stool beside her. She wondered if she was fantasizing and if her imagination had materialized him there. Her face, already slightly flushed because of the drink, gained a few more shades of red. With effort, she managed to compose herself.
“Ah’d say this is a pleasant coincidence, Gambit, but Ah’d be lying.” She cleared her throat before continuing, because she felt her voice fail halfway through the sentence. “Besides, even the coincidence part doesn’t seem like your style.” She finished, bravely looking into the darkness of his eyes. He looked just as she remembered him, only with longer hair and a clean-shaven face that gave him a younger appearance and didn’t make him look older than his twenty-three years.
The corner of his mouth twitched and almost formed a smile. He leaned toward her as if he were about to whisper a secret.
“I’d be hurt if dat wasn’t true.”
His voice also sounded exactly as she remembered. It resembled the drink she had just downed: sweet and spicy all at once. His deep sent a pleasant shiver through her and stirred something restless inside. The drink took the blame again.
“You mean you followed me here, Cajun?” Her words were spoken with the neutrality she had intended.
“Non. I was looking for you an’ ended up finding you here.” Despite a slight hint of interest, his voice sounded strangely serious.
“Why’s that?” she teased, with a small smile, as if it were both flirtation and challenge.
He smiled openly this time, enjoying the game taking shape between them. He let his eyes roam over her whole face, without bothering to hide it. He took pleasure in noticing the little red dots staining her cheeks before she turned her face downward again and pretended there was something interesting in the empty glass she still held between her hands.
He thought she looked even prettier than the last time he’d seen her. He had always found her attractive, but before, it had been in an unconventional way, the kind you had to look closely to see, because she tried so hard to hide behind heavy makeup. Now her beauty stood out, with longer hair framing a clear, beautiful face. Even with his dominant presence, she was confident and sharp, clearly having found herself and feeling comfortable in her own body. And what a body, he thought, forcing himself not to let his eyes drop to her neck and chest, and lower, to the curve beneath her blouse.
As certain as Gambit was that he could spend hours there with her, caught in that easy back-and-forth of teasing and flirtation, he was, in fact, there for a reason and could not forget it. He focused again on what really mattered.
He said, unhurried:
“I’ll explain everyt’ing, but can we go somewhere else first?”
“You ask now,” she said, with feigned surprise, turning her face back to him. “So mature of you.”
He opened his mouth to answer, but suddenly his smile faded. He shoved his right hand deep into the pocket of his coat and looked back over his shoulder. His face took on a worried expression.
“Can we get out of here, Rogue?” Despite the questioning tone, there was urgency in his voice, something she noticed immediately.
She stared at him, confused. She noticed his furrowed brow and the way he swallowed hard.
“No time to explain now. We need to get outta here.” He insisted, his eyes growing more intense. He seemed to make an effort as he said, “Trust me.”
Rogue felt her throat go dry. Gambit looked back again, now more impatient. She stretched up and looked over his shoulders, but saw nothing out of place.
“Rogue?” he said again. His mind was working through exits and what he could do if she refused to go with him, scenarios forming in his head and adapting, changing according to the different decisions she might make. Rogue hesitated. With reason, he thought. She had no reason to trust him. He would have to fight, he thought, though he wanted to avoid it coming to that.
“Don’t make me throw you over my shoulder and carry you outta here.”
She made an outraged expression.
“Ah’d like to see you try, Cajun.”
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath to regain the patience that was running out. With her heart racing, Rogue noticed the distress coming from him, and her instincts jumped forward, overriding any considerations or doubts — they could wait until later.
“Fine,” she said.
Instinctively, he grabbed her firmly by the hand and pulled her along, guiding her through the crowd. With only her face and neck exposed, Rogue kept her face low and hid it with her arm as best she could while she shrank in on herself and dodged people.
Gambit found the emergency exit. With his arm and shoulder, he shoved the door open, and the two of them ran out. The jolt of stepping out of the stuffy bar into the icy night wind made her shiver.
At that very moment, screams of panic came from inside the bar. She thought about how sharp Gambit’s instincts must be, since he had noticed something was wrong long before she had. Unless it was some scheme of his. No. She pushed the thought away. He wouldn’t pull the same trick twice. Besides, she could feel his distress. She knew something was wrong.
Daring to look back, Rogue glimpsed a swift shadow approaching through the darkness. She could swear she’d heard something like a roar a moment before the screams filled the air. With a cold shiver climbing up her spine, she realized.
“Is that Sabretooth? Is he after us?” She couldn’t keep her voice from trembling. “What does he want?”
Gambit did not answer. He kept pushing her to run along the sidewalk, dodging pedestrians, holding her hand firmly. The skinny jeans Rogue was wearing were not ideal for running, but fortunately she had on comfortable boots.
“Dis way,” Gambit said, pulling her into the darkness of an alley. He motioned for her to climb the fire escape of a building about twenty stories tall. Thanks to her strict training, she climbed with agility and steadiness, but Gambit was too fast; he leaped between floors and reached the rooftop before her. He extended his hand, and Rogue accepted without hesitation, letting herself be pulled up. They crouched down.
Quickly, Gambit pulled three dark spheres from one of the small pouches on his belt, each about twenty millimeters in diameter, similar to marbles. He threw them into three different corners of the alley. Thick smoke rose from the spheres when they shattered.
Trembling, Rogue remembered that the villain could track them by scent; it was better to run than hide. But before she could say it out loud, an odor of ammonia filled the air, and she understood. The smoke wasn’t meant to hide their presence, but to mask their scent. The odor wasn’t that strong, and could be mistaken for the smell left after a heavy cleaning; but it would certainly throw off Sabretooth’s feline sense of smell.
From the rooftop, the two of them saw the huge shadow cross the street and disappear.
“Is he after you or me?” she asked, her mouth dry.
“You,” he answered, looking directly into her face in a silent promise that he would explain everything soon. He stood up and looked around. “We’re not far. If you borrow a little of my agility, we can jump between the buildings.”
She didn’t ask where they weren’t far from, since shaking her head no was her first reaction. Rogue did not feel comfortable using her powers. Her lack of control made it hard to absorb anything specific, especially with adrenaline rushing through her body.
Gambit did not insist.
“Let’s go down then.”
“Ah need to get back to the Institute,” she said as soon as her feet touched the ground. “Tell everyone what’s going on.”
“It’s dangerous, chère. Sabretooth knows you’ll try to go back. He could be waiting for you.”
“Then we go together.”
He looked away, as if the suggestion that he could protect her embarrassed him.
“D’accord,” he said at last. “But not now. We’re a few blocks from a place where we can be safe for the next few hours.”
He took her hand again and guided her once she nodded. They did not need to run, but they quickened their pace. A few minutes later, they reached a residential building. Gambit waited for a moment when no one was passing by and broke another sphere at the entrance. Taking the stairs, they went up to the third floor.
Gambit opened the door to one of the apartments and motioned her inside. He closed the door and turned on the lights. The place was small, but it seemed larger than it really was, with the compact kitchen occupying one wall and the living area integrated on the opposite side. Everything looked new, organized, and smelled freshly clean. The window by the living room was wide, taking up practically the entire wall. Farther ahead, there were two doors: one led to the bedroom; the other was closed, but certainly led to the bathroom.
He went to the window, peeked through the glass, and closed the curtain. He disappeared into the bedroom, probably to do the same thing, and returned moments later.
Unceremoniously, Rogue sat on the couch and drew in a deep breath when she noticed her breathing was fast.
“Can Ah have some water?”
“Bien sûr.” He went to the kitchen, took a glass bottle from the fridge, and handed it to her. Without saying anything, he stood near the window.
With one long swallow, Rogue drank half the water, then set the bottle down on the coffee table. She glanced around subtly, suddenly feeling slightly self-conscious, something that was not like her.
Rogue knew it wasn’t the time to make conversation, but she chose to ask anyway:
“You live here?”
He took two steps away from the window and sat in the armchair, angled toward the couch.
“For the last few weeks. Not much longer.” He added without looking her in the eyes, as if he needed to make it clear that he could not spend too much time in one place.
Unable to contain her impatience, Rogue got up and paced back and forth through the living room, trying to understand the situation. Her agitated body language contrasted with his passivity.
“Does Sabretooth know about this place?”
“Non,” he answered simply.
She sat on the couch again, her body turned toward him, but with her arms crossed. Looking directly into his eyes and in a tone that demanded an answer, she asked:
“Can you tell me what’s going on now?”
Before answering, Gambit slowly took his coat and belt off and placed them over one of the arms of the armchair. Underneath, he wore a black two-piece suit made of light, flexible fabric that fit his body. He settled back.
“A few months after...” he began, but paused, not knowing exactly how to define the day they had spent together. He chose something vague, but that she would understand. “After Mardi Gras, I left again.” He paused once more and no longer looked in her direction; he would not say why he had run, though she had an idea. “I drifted around. Job to job. Until I found a new employer.”
Rogue could tell that he was omitting important details about why he’d agreed to work for another madman. The emphasis he had placed on the word employer made her realize that his situation seemed similar to when he had joined the Acolytes. However, she didn’t ask about his reasons; she didn’t think she had that right.
“Sabretooth was hired too?”
Gambit nodded. “I did smaller jobs, stealing information and whatever was necessary; it didn’t involve people directly. Sabretooth came later to do the heavier part of the work. Problem was, he came back carrying a body.”
Rogue shivered, feeling her blood run cold.
“A body?”
Gambit nodded. “A mutant. Don’t know if he was already dead or if it was meeting Sabretooth that did it. Either way, he came back with two other mutants dat same week. Dose two were alive.”
“Who were they?” she asked, uncomfortable, feeling her throat go dry again. She reached for the bottle of water and finished drinking its contents.
“Chais pas.”
“What happened to them after that?”
Gambit lowered his head, drawing in a deep breath through his mouth before continuing.
“They were probably used as guinea pigs for some kind of experiment.”
“God,” she whispered.
“Dat was when I decided to bail, but before dat I tried to find out whatever I could and saw dat... you’d be next.” He finally lifted his eyes to hers. “I offered to bring you in myself, Rogue. But I don’t think the bastard believed I’d be capable of it and sent Sabretooth after us.” Or more likely, he hadn’t bought his bluff, but he kept that thought to himself. After locating her at the bar, everything had happened so fast that Gambit had not had time to plan any further ahead.
Suddenly, Rogue let out a breath in a gust after realizing she had been holding it. Her eyes, which without the exaggerated purple shadow were light green, were wide.
She cracked her knuckles loudly beneath her gloves in nervousness.
“Who the hell in this lunatic? What does he want with me?”
Gambit slowly shook his head.
“Same thing he wanted wit’ the others.”
“Which is what, exactly?”
Gambit remained silent. He had already provided the answer.
“What do you know about this employer?”
“Very little. Only that he’s interested in studying mutants.”
She sighed loudly and stood up.
“What a hell of a night to play rebel and sneak ou. I need to get back to the Institute as soon as possible.”
“When do you think they’ll notice you’re gone?” he asked, lifting his eyes to her. He was relieved that she had not questioned his story or accused him of lying. It was a strange but comforting feeling, one that warmed him from within.
“Probably only in the morning.” The next day was Sunday. Unlike a school day, on weekends it was hard to keep track of who slept in and who was out.
“Then wait,” he said in a tone difficult to understand. His eyes were fixed on her face as if he were preparing for her reaction, whatever it might be.
Rogue stared back at him.
“Ah’d be safer at the mansion.” Her voice came out weak, as if she wanted to be convinced to stay rather than have her reasons refuted. She felt a pang of anguish when he looked away.
“I know, chère. Getting you there is the problem. It’ll be safer in the morning. I don’t think they’ll scold you too badly after you tell them why you stayed out. I mean, it could’ve happened at any time, and not because you decided to stay out late one night.”
Gambit knew how stubborn she was, and that she would probably insist on going back to the mansion. After all, she had no reason to trust him, much less to spend the night in the same place as him. That was why he was surprised when he heard her say, in the sweetest voice:
“Are we really safe here, Gambit?”
He smiled softly because she chose to say we. She was smart, and had understood the situation and its ramifications quickly.
“For tonight, yes. I put a tracker in the big guy’s pocket earlier. If he gets close, we’ll know.”
She stared at him, intrigued. So that was how he had known they had to leave the bar quickly.
“You always have a card up your sleeve. Literally and figuratively.” She tried to laugh, but it came out like a breath.
Unexpectedly, Gambit broke into a wide smile, without affectation, without using it as a device to hide what he felt. Rogue realized, with a flutter of butterflies in her stomach, that it was the first time she had seen him smile that way. Even so, she had no doubt that this was his true smile — an attractive grin that perfectly complemented his features. She had only been pretending not to notice, from the very beginning, how handsome he was.
Rogue felt her face flush at the silly thoughts and looked away. She had no idea that his thoughts were not so different from hers. In that well-lit room, he noticed how beautiful she looked, with more defined features, distant from the girl he held in his memory.
After a full minute of silence, Gambit stood and dragged the armchair closer to the window. He turned off the main lights and switched on the only lamp in the living room, set on a side table.
“I’ll keep watch. You can rest. Bed’s all yours.”
It was almost one in the morning, but she did not feel sleepy.
“Ah won’t be able to sleep.”
“Either way, you’ll be more comfortable in bed.”
Still, she hesitated. She looked timidly at the couch.
“It doesn’t look uncomfortable.”
He nodded and headed toward the bedroom. Meanwhile, she sat down and took off her boots and jacket. He returned with a blanket for her. Rogue tucked her legs up and covered herself while Gambit sat in the armchair.
After a few minutes of silence in the semidarkness, she looked toward Gambit, whose face was turned toward the window, peering through the gap in the curtain.
As if he had felt her eyes fall on him, Gambit cast a glance in her direction. Rogue saw the two red points shining intensely in the dim light.
“Were your eyes always like that?” she asked with a sweetness she rarely let show. She watched him shake his head. It must not have been easy for him, she thought.
“Was your hair always like dat?” he shot back teasingly, to lighten the mood. The last thing he wanted was for her to pity him.
“It’s a real rare condition.” She tried to sound offended, but the laughter in her voice gave her away. “The other kids called me skunk-head.”
The sound of his laughter reverberated through her body.
“You know...” she began, but faltered, slightly embarrassed. It took her a few moments to manage to speak; he waited in silence. “Ah’ve been curious to know what you woulda done if Ah hadn’t chosen to go back with the X-Men... you know, that day.”
His eyes saddened. No matter what decision she had made, he would have been swallowed by the Guild either way. However, he chose to give her the fantasy answer.
“Ah, alors, I would’ve shown you the city, chère. Den helped you run off anywhere you wanted.”
She smiled.
Not wanting to let the conversation die, Gambit asked:
“You go out to drink alone often?”
Rogue felt the blush on her cheeks once again. She imagined how pathetic that must seem to him. No matter how much things changed, she still seemed like the lonely girl who ran off to drink alone.
“I went out a couple of times. To... clear my head.” It was not exactly the truth, but she felt she needed to tell that little lie for the sake of her ego.
“Wanna go out for a drink wit’ me sometime?”
Rogue laughed.
“Are you asking me out?”
“I am. We had fun in New Orleans, despite everything.”
“By ‘everything’, you mean the part where you tricked me into helping you?”
“I thought you were going to let that little detail slide, chère.”
“Ah could,” she said with a smile, which did not take long to fade. She felt sleep take her all at once and shifted to get more comfortable. She spoke again after a long silence. “Do you still think I look sad?” Sleep lent her voice a melancholy note.
It took Gambit a few seconds to understand the question. He offered the truthful answer.
“Non, I don’t. Are you?”
“I’m better, I guess.”
She mirrored his smile and felt her eyelids grow heavy.
***
A sharp, insistent beeping sounded, forcing her to open her eyes. She felt that she had been dozing when she was abruptly pulled back, her heart racing.
Gambit was standing, putting his belt back on.
“Sabretooth’s close,” he warned, his voice serious.
“Did he find us?” she asked, alarmed, standing and quickly putting on her boots.
“I don’t think so, or he would’ve already broken in. He must be looking for us,” he said, putting on his coat as he headed for the door. “I’m gonna throw him off. If I don’t come back, call the X-Men.”
“Why wouldn’t you come back?” Her face twisted with concern.
He cast one last look in her direction before dashing out without answering.
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