She was breathing hard, trying to find the rest of her team amidst the fire, the rubble. The smoke was getting to her. Gloved hands hastily pushed back white streaks of hair (the white stuff always came down, no matter how she fixed her hair), tucking them behind her ears.
Motion caught her eye, and she turned. She caught his gaze, and her heart stopped, just for a flicker of a moment, as their eyes met, his red gaze seeming to burn into her own. He lifted a playing card. Ace of hearts. Her brows furrowed, but then someone had collided into her, pushing her down, out of the way. She felt Bobby's chill breath against her cheek as he covered her, and she heard the explosion, mere feet away. Where they had been. Where she would still have been, if not for Bobby.
"I thought we lost you," he whispered against her ear before they were up again. Running after him, but Scott was there. Storm, too. In a matter of moments, he was in custody. She shook her head slightly.
Bobby glanced over to Rogue, the way she was looking at their captive was ... unnerving at best. "C'mon." He nudged her side.
She jumped in surprise, and glanced to Bobby. In that moment, their adversary (not enemy...just opponent), was out of her sight, led in chains, to be taken back to the mansion, for questioning. "Right."
They started back together, Bobby's gloved hand grasping her own. He smiled to her, and she forced one back, unable to summon a true one.
** ** **
It had been no simple matter, to get the key. Fudging the truth, wheedling, pleading, bribing, promising, on the verge of threatening ... but she had it. The key to the captive's cell.
Why it was so important, even she couldn't say for sure, but it was. That second of eyecontact had filled her with a thousand questions, each of which needed an answer, now.
She let herself down into the holding area. His door was easy enough to find; the only one with a window lit. She peered into the window, gazing into the cell. It was spartan, but not inhumane.
For a moment, she simply regarded him. He'd been stripped of his weapons, but he had a coin, rolling it back and forth across his knuckles. Perhaps seeing her shadow, or sensing her somehow, he stopped, and lifted his eyes to the window of the door.
Their gazes met again, locking. She found she couldn't breathe properly, until he looked away. She was hesitant, now, to enter his room. To what end? What purpose? She didn't have anything to ask him. To talk to him about. If anyone caught her in there, she'd be in for a lecture. Maybe probation.
It didn't really matter. She slid the keycard, and pushed open the door. She stepped in. "Hi."
He looked at her, but said nothing. The coin was once more rolling across his knuckles.
She laced gloved fingers behind her back. The gloves were (mostly) precautionary ... she was learning to control her mutation. It slipped, sometimes, especially when she was nervous, or highly emotional. "What's your name?"
He lifted his eyes to hers once more. "They've already gotten everything out of me they're going to. Go talk to them."
His voice was tired, but oh Christ what an accent. She couldn't explain her attraction to him. Wasn't sure she should even try to. She stepped a little closer. "I'm Rogue. I...wanted to talk to you."
"About what?" He considered charging the coin, blowing out a wall, but to what end? They'd get him before he was off the property...and given the lack of windows to the outside, he was willing to bet he was underground, anyway. So he flipped the coin, catching it and hiding it away in a pocket before turning his red gaze on her.
"...I don't know." Feeling suddenly stupid, she turned away, her back to him.
He wasn't about to let that opportunity pass by. He was off the cot, behind her, an arm around her waist, pinning her arms, the other hand clamping over her mouth. "You've come to play hostage? Bait me into talking more?"
His breath was a warm hiss against her ear, and she shivered - only partly in fear. She shook her head slightly against his hand, but adrenaline kicked in, and her mutation rose to the surface of her skin.
His eyes widened, and he pushed her away, violently. He was shaking, glaring at the girl tumbled on the floor. He felt weak. Sick.
"Gambit." She lifted her head, her eyes dark. She'd gained only a tiny picture of his life in that moment, but his name, his power, his immediate thoughts, she could see.
Slumped on his cot, panting, attempting to recover himself, he didn't ask how she knew. He felt how she knew. He'd felt the girl drawing away his power, his life, his memories. He'd known her to be a mutant. He'd seen her, when he was taken. "Oui, ma cherie. I am Gambit."
She stood up from where he'd thrown her, brushing gloved hands down her self, straightening her clothing. She drew breath to speak again, but the door burst open, and Storm was there, looking very disapproving.
Ooops.
** ** **
"I don't understand you, Rogue. That's not like you at all." Storm gazed at the girl across her desk. "What were you thinking?"
The truth was, she hadn't been. Not really. She'd been driven by a need to see him, a need to talk to him. A need to ... no. She shrugged slender shoulders, and lifted her head. "I don't know, what I was thinking. I just...had to talk to him."
"We have people here trained for that, Rogue. You could've been hurt. He could've been hurt. It could have been a very, very bad situation."
"But it wasn't..."
"But it could have been." She stared down the girl in the short silence that bloomed between them. She didn't even know what to do, what to say, about this. It was so out of character for her. She gestured for Rogue to leave. She'd talk to Charles and the others about this ... she was at a loss for what to do on her own.
** ** **
Rogue had retreated to her room, knowing she hadn't seen even the tip of the iceberg on this one, yet. It had been stupid. He could have killed her. She flopped down onto her bed, closing her eyes.
Bobby knocked on her door, then let himself in. His face was uncharacteristically cold (irony at its finest) as he looked at her. "So what was that all about?" Word traveled fast; he knew she'd been caught in the captive's cell.
"It wasn't about anything." Not now. She didn't need this, now.
"They catch you in his cell, and it isn't about anything? Bullshit, Marie."
She opened her eyes, turning to face him. He was mad? That was a sort of first. "It wasn't about anything..."
He glared. "I saw how you were looking at him, out there. Don't fucking tell me it's nothing."
She felt her own anger flare. She didn't need this. Not on top of whatever trouble she was already in. "Get out. Just... get out."
"Fine." He spun and stomped out of her room, slamming her door as he left.
She sighed, listening to his footfalls retreating down the hall before rubbing her temples. This was not good. This was all colors of not good.
** ** **
Two days passed. Rogue made a point of keeping out of trouble, or anything that could be construed as trouble, though it was damnably hard not to pry, to dig, to find out what was happening with Gambit.
Bobby was still pissed at her, but she couldn't blame him - she hadn't tried very hard to mend whatever was wrong between them. She wasn't sure it was worth the effort. She wasn't sure if she wanted him.
A gloved finger was trailiing along the wall as she meandered down the hall, toward the library. She had some studying she should probably do, but her heart wasn't in it. Her mind was on Gambit. His voice. Oui, ma cherie. I am Gambit. Just the memory of it made her shiver.
"Heads up." Scott grinned a little as he watched Marie drifting down the hall, clearly lost in thought.
She did jerk her head up at the sound of his voice, and she realized she had somehow gotten herself turned around. She was no where near the library ... she was back down near the cells. Near him. "Sorry...I was... library..."
"Wrong end of the house for that, aren't you?" He eyed her, his grin fading. "Are you okay?"
"Okay? I...yes..." But was she? She couldn't stop thinking about him. About Gambit. "No...not...really. What are they going to do to him?" She couldn't keep the anxious edge out of her voice.
Scott's lips pulled into a grim line. He'd heard, of course. "That's for Charles to decide, Marie."
"But ... but what are they going to do to him?" She had to see him again. She had to. She couldn't explain it, but she needed it.
"Go on. Wherever you were headed."
She knew she wasn't going to get any answers from him. Frustrated, she turned away. Maybe she'd actually make it to the library, this time.
** ** **
"Your skin, cherie. It could kill me, non?"
"Yes." She had to admit it could. If her control slipped. "It can't hurt you now. I have it under control."
She thought to wonder how he'd gotten here, in her room, but the thought was brief, fleeting, and it was gone before it had fully formed.
He crossed the darkness to her, a heavy hand resting on her hair, stroking it, white strands tangling with the rich auburn locks.
She remained still under him, barely daring to breathe, lest she scare him off. She turned her head slightly, sleep-dulled emeralds seeking his gaze. His fiery red gaze.
"So if I were to kiss you, ma cherie, it would do me no harm?"
"No harm at all..." She lifted a hand to him, her fingertips stroking across his cheek, catching his chin, drawing his head down to her own. She lifted a little to meet his lips with her own. His lips were hot against hers, and his tongue slipped into her mouth. She moaned, her other arm lifting, wrapping around him, pulling him down into bed with her.
Part of her mind was aware of a buzzing noise. Intermittent but persistent. Most of her, though, was focused on him, the heat of his body, the weight of him against her, the way he smelled, the feel of his tongue exploring her mouth, the way her body arched up into his the cold, cold hand on her shoulder, shaking her awake, Bobby's voice. "Rogue. Rogue, wake up."
The ice mutant wondered how she could possibly be sleeping through the alarm, and with that look on her face...like she was having the best dream ever. And he knew who it was was about.
She came awake, disoriented. "Bobby? Where's..." Gambit. But she managed not to voice that, instead closing her eyes, trying to preserve the dream, but it dissipated, like wisps of fog before the sun.
"We don't know. In case you haven't noticed, the alarm is going off, meaning he has escaped."
She didn't think that was fair. The alarm could have meant a lot of things. She started to struggle out of bed, but Bobby's hand held her down.
"You'd better hope someone finds him before me." He shoved her against the bed before turning away.
"Bobby!" She scrambled out of bed, but she couldn't go out in her nightie. She searched around for a robe, and (just in case), a pair of gloves, dressing even as she started after him. She knew where to go, in case of an alarm ... but the halls were deserted, and Bobby's voice rang in her head.
Maybe that someone would be her.
She pivoted on a bare heel, and started off in another direction, any direction, hoping she found him, first, and no one came looking for her.
** ** **
She'd left the mansion through a side door, near the rear of the house. One that Gambit was most likely to have found, and used. It was dark, over here, with trees lining the fence. How convenient.
Bare feet were chilled by the dewey grass, and she crept carefully through the shadows, aware that her white nightie and pale skin made her stand out in what little light there was.
She never heard him, as he grabbed her. His coat was over her mouth, under his hand, to muffle her scream, and his other hand wrapped around her gloved arms. He'd learned his lesson. He pulled her back into the treeline, but she didn't protest.
Once he was sure she wasn't going to give away his position, he released the hand that was covering her mouth, though he kept his arm around her. Lowering his head, he murmured against her ear. "How about you show me how to get out of here, ma cherie?" He was counting on her cooperation, based solely on the fact she'd come to see him that first night. It was a big risk, but he liked to play that way.
"There's a gate, just over there. I can open it." She had the passcode, after all. She leaned back against him, probably the most cooperative captive he'd ever had.
Holding her before him, he started to walk where she'd nodded toward, until they found the gate. He released her arms, and watched as she keyed the code on the numberpad, and the gate slid open with only a slight groan and thud.
He released her entirely, stepping around her to pass through the gate. When no new alarm triggered, he smiled. "I owe you my life, cherie." He winked at her, and ran into the darkness, escape the only thing on his mind.
Rogue watched, in a sort of numb shock, as the gate rolled closed. What had she done? She almost ran after him, but she heard heavy footsteps in the grass behind her. She knew from the sound it was Logan ... no one ran as heavily as him.
She didn't turn, but stared through the gate, in the direction Gambit had run. One hand lifted, as if to reach out, to draw him back, but it fell to her side.
"Scott and Storm are coming. You've got about two seconds to help me come up with a story."
"...I let him go."
"That's not much of a story, kid." He wrapped an arm around Rogue, pulling her against his body. "But if that's the one you want to go with..."
It didn't matter to her. Charles would know the real story, anyway, if he wanted it. "You're not going after him?"
Wolverine shook his head. "He was in the wrong place at the wrong time, throwing cards at the wrong people. He's a good kid. Just misguided."
They both turned as Scott and Storm showed up. Rogue didn't pay much attention to the explanations, the glares, the promises of forthcoming lectures. He's a good kid. Just misguided.
Did Logan know Gambit? Emerald eyes lifted to study Logan, and she thought, once this had blown over, she'd see what sort of story he had to tell about Gambit.
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