Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

In his head it was loud.

Drums of his heartbeat, screams and weeps he could not decipher, howling of the wind and shuffle of trees, crackling of shock running through him. There were more, more voices he didn’t recognize, more sounds drowning him in thick, black water. He tried to swim, but the surface seemed so far away, and he could feel someone right behind his shoulder, and their silence was the loudest sound all around. It was overpowering, its mere presence enough for him to feel shackled, trapped and hopeless. He was so tired he wanted to stop fighting, sink to the bottom and finally rest.

Wake up.

Noises subsided, letting him think a bit more clearly. There was only one voice left, soft and soothing. He made another dash upwards, out of the black he was drowning in. The silent presence was unhappy, he knew it, but it let him try.

Wake up, sugah.

He didn’t even know how cold it was until he felt the warmth. He didn’t even know how dark it was until there was light. He swam faster, his movements jerky and sharp.

Wake up, Remy.

His eyelids were heavy. Opening them felt so hard, his brows twitched in strain before he was able to crack his eyes open.

There was light, dim and soft, surprisingly comfortable. There was something heavy and large on his body, covering him up to his shoulders. It wasn’t restricting, he knew somehow, more like… Comforting? Was it there to comfort him or just to warm him up?

He blinked slowly, his tiredness almost winning in the unequal struggle against his need to find out where he was and what was happening. He didn’t care, really. He wanted to go back, wanted to hear the soft drawling voice again. It had such a beautiful rumble in it, like the soft sound of pebbles rolling in silt at the bottom of the Mississippi.

“Remy?”

He didn’t notice it before, but there was movement in his hair, like someone was gently stroking it and suddenly stopped. And the voice - the same voice that pulled him out of the dark and noise - was right above his head. It called him Remy. Something responded in him at the name, and he decided to accept it as his own. If she called him Remy, Remy he was.

Remy looked up, his gaze sliding over a figure next to him, knowing he would eventually stumble upon magnificent locks of auburn and white framing soft-featured face with an upturned nose, plump lips and gorgeous pair of green eyes. He had no idea how he knew that, but he did. When Remy finally caught her gaze, his head dropped to the side, making the muscles of his neck strain uncomfortably, but he didn’t mind. No pain could stop him from looking at her.

“Chère.”

Remy felt air escape his lips, brushing against them softly, and it took him a second to recognize the voice he heard speak. It was his own voice. Low, quiet, husky.

She smiled at him, her fingers running along his cheek for a short moment before she withdrew her hand and pulled away, leaving his bed. Remy felt his heart drop, his body moving faster than he could understand what he was doing. The blanket he was under slipped down his body as he shot his arm after her, catching her by the wrist while he pulled himself up to prop on his elbow in a desperate attempt to not fall off the hospital bunk he was in. His muscles cried in pain before quieting, but he was still shaking from the strain.

She turned around, looking at him in surprise, her eyes glimmering in the dim light they were surrounded by. Remy gulped, finding his voice through the struggle.

“Don’t go,” he begged, looking at her as if she was the light in the storm he was afraid to be caught in again. Something in her made him feel a little more alive and far less lost. Something in her helped him stay out of the depths of the thick black water and he didn’t even understand why. Yet, Remy felt his heart skip a beat when she took a step back to him and twisted her hand so she could catch his fingers and intertwine them with hers. Her lips curled into a gentle smile as she lowered to the floor, her face the same level as his, their hands at the edge of the bed.

“Ain’t going nowhere, Remy,” she promised, as he watched her with his widened eyes, his breath short from the fear gripping his throat. “Ah’m just callin’ the others. There’s a communicator on the wall. See?”

She twitched her head slightly to her right, her eyes shooting a glance to the same direction before returning to his face. Remy frowned a bit, confused, and blinked a couple times. She wanted him to look away from her? No, she wanted him to look somewhere else, see where she was going before he grabbed her. Communicator on the wall. He knew there were communicators, knew that they were interconnected, each able to reach any other in the mansion.

…mansion?

Remy lingered his eyes on her a bit more and finally tore his gaze away, looking where she told him to. There, indeed, was a communicator - a screen, keyboard and some other tech he didn’t recognize.

She moved from him once more, but this time Remy let her, though his outstretched hand stayed in the air a second longer than hers. He watched her come up to the device, press buttons - the sight of it made skin on his back crawl, he didn’t really understand why - and then someone’s voice cut through the silence they were in.

“Rogue?”

Remy blinked again and winced, his head suddenly heavy and pondering with noises, images, so much he got lost for a moment. His hand grasped on the white sheets he was lying upon, scrunching it. Something tingled at his fingertips, almost scaring him.

“Sugah?”

Remy jolted his head up, meeting worried green eyes, her gloved hands hovering over his shoulders, and swallowed, turning his gaze down. The sheets he was holding were shining with purplish light. He felt it, heard the hum of movement under the palm of his hand. Somehow he knew he kept it under his control, his will being the dam on the way of the river. Remy knew if he let go it would lose this leash, it would explode. He also knew he could turn this current elsewhere, calm it down. So he did, light dimming until it stopped shining completely.

Remy blinked, his eyes uncomfortably dry, and shook his head slightly before turning his face back to the woman still standing next to him.

Same green eyes, but now he saw the glimpse of hazel in them, and he knew in the sunlight it looked mesmerizing. Same gorgeous hair, yet somehow he knew the struggle of untangling it in the morning. Unfamiliar light line on her forehead, almost lost in the hairline, barely noticeable. Remy was sure he had never seen it before.

“Rogue,” he heard his voice speak, the word rolling off his tongue so naturally like his lips were designed to say it. The way she widened her eyes, tears shimmering in them, and smiled made his heart skip a beat, and when she came closer and took his face in her hands Remy could not help but close his eyes, melting into the sensation. He didn’t care a bit that there were gloves on her hands, all he could feel was her.

“I know you,” he whispered, cracking his eyes back open, studying her face closely. Rogue nodded, movements short and sharp, and tilted her head, watching him with just as much care he felt watching her. “Why do you cry, chère?”

Déjà vu hit him, but Remy let it slide. Rogue shook her head, pursing her lips, and raised a hand to wipe away the tears from her eyes.

“It’s okay, Remy, Ah’m just happy,” she croaked, her smile quivering as if she was about to burst into tears completely. Remy frowned, feeling a sudden need to shelter her from anything that was causing her pain. He groaned, using his arms to help him into sitting position, Rogue’s hands stabilizing his unsteady movements, and let out a pained sigh, finally being upright. He felt dizzy, small flashes he thought looked like flies crowding his sight. Remy raised his hand and pressed it to his temple, trying to suppress the feeling.

“You okay, sugah?” Rogue asked him worryingly, her hand gently turning his face back to her, as her eyes inspected him closely. Remy let out another exhale, looking up at her, and felt his lips curl into a weary smile.

“M’good,” he assured her in a quiet tone, his head still pounding. For a moment Remy felt the blazes under his skin, saw a magenta flash and heard his own confused voice. The memory made him look down, on the blanket he was covered with. It was dark-gray in color, heavy. He could feel the fabric, a bit scratchy, on the skin of his legs, thighs. It stopped at his stomach, leaving it open for display as Remy studied his own body with a confused look. He was leaner, skinner than he thought, than he was supposed to be, like he was starving. His stomach responded to his thoughts, curling uncomfortably, making him wince. Remy raised his hand, running his fingers across his torso and suddenly stopped, when he felt the texture under his fingertips change. He blinked, pulling his hand away, and stared at a jagged scar below his ribs.

He knew that scar. He knew that the slight bulge of it was made by synthetic threads someone used to stitch it up. He knew that the skin around was a bit tighter due to the flames that licked it before it all went dark. He also knew that it was his last wound before death claimed him.

“Remy?” he heard Rogue’s voice, soft and anxious, and looked up at her. It took him a moment to focus on her face, worry in her expression making him feel a tid guilty. So he curved the corner of his mouth up, letting out a confused laugh.

“Why am I naked, chère?”

He almost felt tension leaving her body, her face softening as she relaxed her shoulders and smiled.

“You’ve been naked for the last two and a half weeks, Remy,” Rogue laughed, tousling his hair. Remy felt his smile widen all on its own, turning into a sly grin.

“Oh, so you seen Remy wit’ no clothes? Did you like it?”

“Sugah,” she raised her eyebrows, almost sympathetically, as if she was about to give him some terrible news, “Everyone saw you.”

Remy froze for a moment, comprehending this new piece of information. He blinked, dumbfounded, as Rogue snorted from laughter once more, dropping her face into her hand to hide it.

“Merde,” Remy breathed out, sounding almost impressed, “like… Everyone?”

Rogue nodded, moving her hand to her cheek, still ready to cover her mouth in case of another snort.

“Everyone in the mansion at least,” she giggled, making Remy move his head up and down in silent acknowledgement. He shot her a gaze, smile creeping back on his lips.

“...so you did see Remy wit’ no clothes.”

Rogue rolled her eyes, her lips parting for an answer, but before she could say anything, a loud ‘whoosh’ marked the door slide wide open, light far brighter than in the room falling from the hallway.

“Gambit!”

A loud cry pierced his ears, making him wince from the noise, Rogue frowning right back at its source.

“Jubilee, hush!” she hissed, but the girl with short black hair either didn’t notice her displeasure or outright ignored it. Remy widened his eyes, watching her drop right next to him on the bed, her arms wrapped around him quicker than he could react. He didn’t even register his muscles strain, pain in them becoming something of a common occurrence, and blinked at the girl. He felt her tears on his bare shoulder, wet and hot, and raised his hand almost instinctively, able to muster a weak hug.

Remy looked up at Rogue, who was watching him with uneasiness in her eyes, but as soon as she caught his gaze, she smiled reassuringly, giving him a small nod. Remy looked back down, his second arm now moving, as he pulled the girl away slightly, inspecting her face, covered in tears and snot she was wiping away aggressively. There was something amiss, he knew, he just couldn’t grasp what exactly it was. Something on her head, something on her shoulders, something familiar and bright. Remy blinked, a genuine question in his voice as he spoke,

“Where yo’ coat, petite?”

“My- My coat?” she echoed, frowning in confusion, her dark eyes shining from the tears she was finally able to take under control. “It’s upstairs, in my room. Why? Do you need it? You need something? I can go grab it!-”

“Jubilee, let him answer,” the voice rumbled softly through the room, Remy sensing the smell of ozone at the mere sound of it. He looked up from Jubilee, searching for the person who just spoke. He found her right next to Rogue, her dark-skinned fingers on his chère’s shoulder, watching him with a smile on her lips.

“Stormy,” Remy smiled back, an irrational triumph rising in him as she winced at the word, a smile never leaving her face though. He eyed her, sensing something was different, until it hit him. “Yo’ hair. Look good on you.”

“I am so happy to hear your voice, brother,” Stormy said, as Jubilee sniffed once more and pulled away a bit, allowing Remy to hunch over and prop his elbows on his knees, still covered by the weighted blanket. He had to adjust it - even though his lack of clothes did not bother him, he was sure it would for everyone else.

Remy narrowed his eyes, them hurting at the bright light from the hallway, and recognized the figure standing in the doorway. Crossing his arms, there was Logan, watching him with a smirk.

“Gonna just stand dere, mon ami?” Remy smirked back, Logan shaking his head with a chuckle, and soon he took a step forward, coming up to the bed and placed a firm hand on Remy’s shoulder. He winced slightly, Logan’s grip as strong as ever, but still smiled at him, not willing to show any weakness. Somehow he knew Logan could feel (smell?) his tiredness.

“Glad you’re back, Cajun.”

Remy nodded, a quick ‘merci’ escaping his lips, and Logan let go of him. There was something strange in the way he shot a look at Rogue and Stormy, twitching his head towards the door. Remy couldn’t hear but he saw them exchange a couple of phrases, Rogue nodding before looking back at him, her lips curling into a smile immediately.

“Jubilee,” the white-haired woman called, already at the door, “Remy needs his rest. Roberto’s upstairs, he may need your help.”

Girl sprung up to her feet, giving Remy a quick wave before disappearing into the bright light of the hallway. Logan followed her, Stormy giving Remy a smile before leaving as well.

Remy watched the doors close, his eyes feeling much better in the semi-darkness. Rogue walked up to him, her hand almost weightless on his arm.

“Rogue?” he called, his eyes moving back and forth as he tried to get a grip on the thought, uncomfortably lingering in his mind. Rogue hummed in response, and Remy looked up at her, confusion in his eyes stronger than before.

“Who’s Roberto?”

It was weird.

Remy found out his full name was Remy Etiene LeBeau, even though at first others called him “Gambit” far more often. It confused him, which was caught upon pretty quickly and when someone wanted to address him, he was Remy. Just Remy.

He also found out that Roberto was a young man, whose confusion almost matched his own. His nom de guerre was Sunspot - pretty fitting, Remy thought, seeing his solar powers in action, as the boy came to visit him alongside Jubilee and Bête one evening.

While Jubilee was chirping something to Rogue and Bête was busy examining Remy’s blood he took a sample of a minute prior, Roberto stood beside his bed sheepishly, shooting him awkward glances while Remy was studying him without any embarrassment. He noticed the boy's tensed jaws, the nervous tick of his fingers tapping some beat on his thigh.

“You look tired, shugah,” Rogue said to Roberto, her eyes even sharper than Remy’s. He blamed it on the unfamiliarity of the young man in front of him. “Do you sleep well?”

Roberto scoffed, rolling his eyes.

“I’ll sleep when I’m dead,” he answered without second thought, and the silence that fell down on them was deafening. Roberto bit his tongue, Remy saw it, and almost shot a hand to his mouth, his whole body giving a shake as soon as he comprehended what just slipped from his lips. Bête looked up from his studies, blinking in shocked surprise as they all stared at Sunspot as if he just said he personally kicked a puppy into the highway.

And then there was a chuckle.

“Not much sleep in death in my experience, gars.”

Everyone turned to Remy, whose bitter grin crackled at the seams as he raised his hand to prop his stubbled cheek on it.

“So you better rest now, hein?”

Roberto, still as tense as he was a moment ago, nodded sharply, his widened eyes stuck on Remy as if he was looking for any signs of aggression or resentment. Remy was not going to give him any of that. He had already caught up on his and Jubilee’s relationships and was more than sure the boy had his fair share of lectures with Logan and, probably, Cyclops. If he was still here, it meant he was at least decent. Remy wondered if others took him on the missions already.

“Hey, did Cyke take you out on de field?” Remy asked, Roberto blinked in confusion. Bête shook his head, his eyebrows high as he muttered a quiet ‘unbelievable’, and turned back to his science. Rogue and Jubilee exchanged glances, but continued to watch them in silence.

“Y-yeah?” Roberto answered sheepishly, shooting a quick glance at the girls before clearing his throat and letting his shoulders relax a bit. “Yeah, I had a couple missions already.”

“Bien,” Remy nodded, his smile getting a bit more genuine, “Wanna show Remy what’ya ‘bout? I’m interested.”

“Remy,” Rogue warned, narrowing her eyes on him, Remy immediately raising his hands up in the air.

“No trainin’ yet! I know!” he promised, his chuckle nervous. Rogue rolled her eyes on him, and Remy looked back at Roberto who had all but a question mark plastered all over his face. “Just yo’ powers. Wanna see what tricks our kids have up der sleeves.”

“Don’t see any kids here,” Jubilee pouted at him, her arms crossed as she drew her head in her shoulders, an annoyed expression on her face. Rogue huffed a laugh, but recollected her stoic appearance the moment the girl looked up at her with narrowed eyes.

“Mr. Da Costa’s mutation allows him to use energy akin to solar to fly, project energy blasts, et cetera,” Remy blinked at hearing Bête’s voice coming from the table giant blue doctor was working at. Roberto turned his head sharply too, an annoyed grunt escaping his throat.

“Why, thanks, Hank,” he muttered, Bête only shrugging in response.

“Don’ mind him, gars,” Remy laughed, Roberto looking back at him. “M’sure you got plenty more tricks den Bête say. Mind to show some?”

Roberto sighed as if he was forced to say some dumb toasts in a family gathering. Remy wondered where this association came from, but before his head started its usual pattern of gripping him and pulling down into dizziness and headache, his eyes widened at the sight of pulsing black and orange energy appearing around Roberto’s hand. Remy watched in fascination as he heard the hum of it, different from what he was used to, lower, deeper.

“Mon Dieu,” Remy breathed out, and the light was gone, silence falling back on them.

“That’s… Pretty much it,” Roberto shook his hand slightly, turning his gaze away. Remy narrowed his eyes on him, something familiar in this scene itching in his mind. Has he been in that situation before? He had no idea. Nonetheless, Remy raised his own hand and felt the slight stinging at his skin.

“Remy!” Rogue raised her voice in worry, her body twitching as she wanted to rush in his direction. Remy looked at her, his gaze calm and focused. He could handle that much.

“Den we not so different, gars,” Remy spoke, his voice a bit shaky yet confident. Roberto looked at him, surprise in his eyes, as he watched purplish light shimmer on Remy’s skin, fading in and out as northern lights.

Jubilee let out a fascinated ‘wow!’, coming up to Remy’s bed and taking a closer look. She raised her own hand, but before she could reach him, Remy dropped his arm back on the blanket, his breath suddenly short as it took him a good chunk of concentration not to let energy of his body break out of his control. Rogue appeared at his side in a second, her hand on his shoulder as if it was always there, and Remy looked up at her and gave a small nod, still panting.

“Look, don’t touch, petite,” Remy croaked, his mouth dry, Bête looking up from his work and coming right up with an alarmed ‘Oh, golly!’. Remy shook his head on him, his breath coming back to normal.

They all watched him with worry and fear, but when Remy raised his eyes back to Roberto, he saw only genuine interest and something that looked like confusion mixed with respect. It made him twist his lips upward in a grin. Finally, something other than damned pity.

It took another couple of days for Hank to approve Remy’s plea to finally leave the sickbay, and, honestly, he couldn’t be happier. He was eager to go outside, go get his head busy so voices and images don’t bother him as much - but there was a condition. Because of course, there was. And when Remy saw that condition roll into his room in a wheelchair with a soft practiced smile on his lips, he had no idea where the anger and confusion he felt came from. It blazed in him, like a fire to which someone threw some new drywood, making it flare up, sparks shooting everywhere.

“Professor?”

“Hello, Remy,” Xavier greeted him with a nod, his voice even and amicable. It didn’t make Remy any less uneasy.

“Why are you here,” he breathed out, his hands gripping the edge of the bed he leaned against, his legs suddenly shaky. “You shouldn’t be here.”

Xavier blinked in confusion, tilting his head slightly.

“I am here to ensure your healing is going as planned,” the man answered, and Remy dropped his gaze downwards, suddenly not able to look at him. “Remy, is something wrong?”

Remy felt his arms shake from the strain, and then it hit him.

“You were in my head,” words escaped his lips, as he looked at the floor, dumbfounded, familiar flashes and voices flooding his mind.

“I was,” Xavier agreed, his voice now more careful than it was a moment ago. “I recollected your psyche to the best of my abilities, as well as most of your memories. I couldn’t do more until you were awake. Now that you are, we can continue working on restoring them.”

Remy swallowed hard, voices screaming in his head, him doing his best to shut them down.

“Are those…” he raised his hand and gestured around his forehead vaguely, “my memories?”

Xavier narrowed his eyes slowly.

“Can I see?” he asked politely, and Remy gave him a quick nod.

The feeling hit his breath right out, making him grip on the side of his torso, his hands grasping at the fabric of his shirt, and Remy almost buckled down, somehow able to stay upright, grabbing the bed with his other arm. His head was bursting with the sound of static and voices, flashes or red and dark blue. It lasted less than a second, Xavier pulling away in a blink of an eye. Remy blinked hard, his vision blurry from the pain and the dizziness.

It took him a minute to start breathing again, his heart beating so hard it threatened to break free from his ribcage. Panting, Remy looked up at Professor, who was watching him with a worried look on his face, his hand hovering inches over the communication device he had in his wheelchair. Remy let out a huff, his lips curling into a bitter smile.

“Look like my head be stubborn,” he rasped, his voice husky. Remy licked his lips and dropped his head back, letting it hit the bed he lowered by. “Dat… Hurt.”

“I am sorry, Remy,” Xavier sounded compassionately, almost guilty, and it made Remy feel even worse. He hated it, others being so worried about him. “It seems like your mind is… Protecting itself from outer interference.”

Remy chuckled bitterly.

“Didn’t I just give ya my consent?”

“It’s not that simple, Remy,” Charles shook his head, and Remy dropped his head back, his eyes barely able to focus on Professor’s saddened face. “You are still hurt, and while you are healing, it will take a lot of time for your mind to change its reaction.”

“So, no easy telepath way out?” Remy asked, a crooked and angry grin on his lips. “Deiu, Remy wonder how he managed to live wit’out it before.”

“I understand your resentment, Remy,” Xavier lowered his eyes, his gaze now hitting the floor somewhere next to Remy’s outstretched legs. “You have been violated by mind-twisting control. It’s only natural for you to react the way you do. It is not your fault, of course. I don’t blame you.”

“You? Blame me? Sure?”

Xavier cut himself off, looking up at Remy. Red on black glimmered at him as the mutant shook his head slowly, letting out a huff. Charles felt his jaws tensing up, his fingers gripping into his chair. Remy looked at him almost with a challenge in his eyes, and Xavier wondered if Gambit realized he was calling out bluff.

“Why do I know you weren’t dere, Professor?”

Remy’s question was genuine, his hand on his ribs, and Xavier pressed his lips into a tight line. He didn’t answer, instead turning his wheelchair around.

“We will find other ways to process your healing, Remy,” Charles said, his voice once again even. Remy widened his eyes, his shaky legs buckling under him as he pushed himself up, his hand outstretched after Xavier.

“Professor, wait!”

Charles looked back over his shoulder, Remy’s terror catching him off guard.

“Please,” he heard him plead, Remy’s voice much softer and quieter than a second before. “Don’t make me stay here.”

Xavier blinked at him, surprised, and shook his head slightly, making Remy’s heart drop. His words, however, held no grudge, no disappointment.

“I’ll tell Beast you are free to leave the medbay,” he promised, his eyes shining in the dim lighting, and Remy felt his breath shortened by hope instead of fear. It felt almost as painful, if not worse. “But please, be careful. And let us know if anything happens. Anything out of place, anything that you have trouble with - ask for help, Remy.”

Remy gulped and nodded quickly, his eyes dropping down, not able to withstand the Professor’s gaze any longer. When doors closed behind Xavier, Remy finally realized he had tears running down his cheeks, as voices pounded in his head once again, and he felt the silent presence laughing at him.

Feel familiar, ain’t it, homme?

Remy shot his eyes upwards, his skin crawling with horror as the cold voice laughed at him once more.

Let’s see if you gonna follow dese orders.

He jumped up, his skin stinging and lighting up slightly, but there was no one beside himself, room dark and cool. Remy panted heavily, his chest rising and falling, his ribs aching, and looked down on his hands, shimmering with magenta pink. He took a deep shaky breath, forcing his powers to abate, and then collapsed on his bed, not able to fight his exhaustion any longer.

The gentle breeze ruffled his auburn hair, the setting sun sent soft glare dancing at his skin, and Remy smiled with such genuine happiness, Rogue thought her heart would just burst, overwhelmed with emotions. He kept his eyes closed, them still adjusting the brightness of the world after a month in semi-darkness. Rogue knew his eyes were light-sensitive, but after everything it seemed he had a bit more problems with it. Most likely, their original state was restored, so basically now Remy had to learn how to see all over again, alongside learning to control his powers.

Rogue raised her hand, her gloved fingers brushing at his forehead gently, tucking his hair away. Remy opened his eyes and looked at her, his smile getting softer.

“Can’t keep yo’ hands away from Remy, ay, chère?” she smirked at his comment and shook her head with a sigh.

“You were so cute up until just a second ago, Swamp Rat,” Rogue chuckled, making Remy curl his lips into a grin. He grabbed her fingers she started to withdraw, holding her hand gently in his, Rogue’s eyes widened at his action. She had been with him almost all the time since he woke up, too happy to see him alive for any other emotions to overshadow it, but now - now that he was slowly moving on his own, getting a grip on his powers and memories he still had trouble with - she all but waited for the other shoe to drop. The moment he remembers, it’s over. The moment he realizes how much she hurt him, there’s no way back.

Rogue hated herself for keeping it from him. She hated the thought of hiding it all from him - again - but he was so damn happy being free from Apocalypse control, and he had so much to deal with, his powers and memories and nightmares and all… She couldn’t break that little peace he had.

Remy brushed his thumb over her knuckles, studying them with his mesmerizing eyes. Rogue watched him, her heart stinging with guilt, and felt her throat tighten. Her lips parted, but before any words escaped them, the sound of opening doors and footsteps made her twitch and withdraw her hands from his quickly.

“Mind if I join, lovebirds? Too cool of a sunset to miss it,” Rogue looked back over her shoulder, familiar jacket catching her attention, bottle of beer in newcomers hand covered with droplets of water. She smirked, trying to calm her nerves and shaking her head slowly, and a thought of Logan leaving for the mission with Scott and Jean ran through her mind, explaining the sight of Morph coming up to them, sitting on the stairs of the mansion.

“Didn’t know ya enjoy sunsets, buddy,” Rogue teased them with a smile, Morph only shrugging at her comment. Remy blinked, like he just came back to reality, and looked back too, questioning look in his eyes. Morph saluted him with their bottle and moved past them, dropping on his ass a couple steps lower.

“Gotta enjoy pretty things after seeing all that shit we’ve seen, Rogue, don’t you think?” Morph let out a breath, lowering their bottle between their knees, and leaned back, letting their back hit the stone of the stairs. “And that one’s pretty.”

“Oui,” Remy agreed immediately, raising his own eyes up to the sky, squinting at the light, as he watched the orangy-pink clouds move above them. Rogue couldn’t help but smile, the happy glint in his eyes making her happy as well. Her doubts lingered, but in the moment all she decided to think about was the man by her side, the way his chest raised and fell at every breath he took.

“Yeah,” Rogue finally drawled, tearing her eyes away from Remy and looking up at the sunset. She was not particularly fond of the reddish skies, the sight bringing out the memories she didn’t want to think about, but the yellows and oranges and purples were kind enough to distract her.

They sat in silence for some time, wind shuffling leaves of the trees and bushes around them, Morph letting out occasional exhales as they drank their beer. Sun hid behind the trees, twilight consuming them slowly as the shadows deepened.

“You two have curfew?” Morph asked, dropping their head back to look at them. Rogue shrugged, Remy still looking up at darkening skies, his eyes now shimmering in semi-darkness as the light didn’t bother him anymore.

“Not really,” Rogue answered. “Gotta go put Remy to bed before 10 or Hank’s gonna be pissed, though.”

“Hey, Remy be right here,” man in question looked down at her, pouting, and Rogue rolled her eyes with a smirk.

“Yeah, and you speak in third person too,” she teased him.

“O-oh, she got’ya,” Morph smirked from their seat, their long empty bottle moving from side to side in their hand. Remy rolled his eyes at them both and looked away, making Rogue and Morph both chuckle. “Damn, man, you look like a cat. Like, when you accidentally step on a paw, or refuse to feed it early, the same face. You always look like one, tho.”

“A cat?” Remy arched his eyebrow, blinking in surprise at Morph, who lowered their gaze back on the now dark horizon.

“Yeah, I mean,” they shrugged, making Remy even more confused. “The way you move, fight, act. It’s kinda cat-ish.”

“Ah’ll leave ya cat-people for a moment,” Rogue chuckled, amused by the conversation. “Kurt promised to give me a call right about now. Gonna grab ya another bottle, Morph. You want anythin’, sugah?”

Remy raised his eyes on her, his eyes narrowed, mischief dancing in them.

“Bête said no alcohol, but if you find Remy some bourbon…”

Rogue rolled her eyes once again, crossing her arms and letting out a tired sigh.

“Ah’m not bringin’ ya alcohol, Remy,” she drawled in a tone of great suffering, laughter seeping through its facade. Remy chuckled in response, and Rogue waved a hand at him before going up the stairs. “Ah’ll make ya some tea and come back for you two.”

“She seems livelier,” Morph commented when the doors closed behind Rogue’s back, now only them and Remy sitting on the porch. The Cajun hummed questioningly, blinking as he looked down at his friend. He felt some type of connection to Morph, but he couldn’t really explain it.

“Rogue,” Morph twitched their head after Rogue, before looking at Remy again. Tracing their gaze was a bit hard, considering their eyes had no irises. Remy wondered if that was a deliberate choice, but knowing Morph and their ability to take any form they wanted, it must’ve been. “She’s not as angsty and angry as she was before we brought you back. Girl was having a hard time, I mean we all were, but she lost it. Good to see she’s back to her senses.”

Remy frowned a bit, lowering his gaze at his hands.

“She be sad when she think I don’t look,” he mumbled under his breath, and Morph sighed with such understanding Remy looked up at them, confused.

“Been there, pal,” they replied in the same tone, moving their gaze to the stars instead. “They always try to look happy for you, say that you’re making progress and they’re proud, but then in their eyes…”

Morph sighed heavily, shaking their head. Remy felt his mind shiver familiarly, something coming up, calmer and slower than usual.

“You been taken,” Remy said, his tone a bit surprised. Morph arched their brow, looking up at him. “And brought back. Like me.”

“Not really,” Morph hesitated a bit, moving his gaze away. “I’ve been on the brink of death, not the other side. What you’ve been through, Remy… I can’t even imagine.”

“I’m sorry.”

Morph blinked in surprise, catching the expression of utter despair in Remy’s face and chuckled awkwardly, immediate need to lighten up the mood hitting them.

“What for?” they asked, a nervous smile creeping up their face. “You had it worse, buddy. At least my mind wasn’t turned into dust, and you’ve literally been a vegetable for what, half a month? That’s unbeatable-”

“It don’t matter,” Remy cut them off harshly, making Morph catch their breath and clap their mouth closed like a fish. Cajun looked at them, his eyes shining with anger, soon turned back into grim understanding, his voice softening. “It don’t matter if I had it worse or not. You been hurt be what matter. For dat, I am sorry.”

Morph blinked at him, comprehending what he just said, and shook their head with a bitter chuckle.

“Nah,” they raised their empty bottle in front of Remy’s face as if they were showing off a trophy. “What matters is that we survived, mon ami.”

Remy stared at the bottle, blinking dumbfoundedly, before giving Morph an awkward glance.

“It… It empty, mon ami,” he stated the obvious, making Morph roll their eyes with a smile and a sigh.

“Of course it’s empty, pal, I downed it,” they smirked at the confused Cajun, “Just pretend you have something to clink.”

Remy blinked again, the amount of utter loss and confusion now getting through the roof, and, a bit hesitant, raised his hand in a way mimicking raising a glass.

“To survivors,” Morph toasted and dropped their head back, bottle straight above their mouth as last droplets of water and beer found their way down to disappear behind their lips.

“To survivors,” Remy echoed quietly, staring at his hand, his fingers curled as if he had a glass between them. For a second he could see that glass vividly, its sharp carved surface and amber liquor whirling in it. Blinking away the vision, Remy repeated the faux drinking, Morph huffing approvingly. They sat for another minute in silence, staring at the now dark sky. Remy was first to break it this time.

“Why do you say Remy act like a cat?”

“God, you’re still on it?” Morph laughed, sliding their eyes shut, and let out a loud exhale. “You just have that in you. The way you walk, for example. You never noticed you tend to keep your heels off the ground? You’re basically tip-toeing when you’re nervous or focused. And in battle you are always springy, ready to jump away from any attack in case you can’t block it with your pole.”

Remy stared at them, his eyebrows arched in surprise, genuine interest in his eyes, as Morph continued, their voice softened, got a bit deeper and quieter.

“Dunno if you still do that, tho’. Haven’t seen you in a fight since… Well. You know,” Morph shrugged again, and Remy moved his gaze away, a familiar uncomfortable feeling crawling in his head. “And now your walk is a bit different. Like you were forced into a march and there’s someone keeping you down despite your need to be more mobile, like someone’s keeping their hands on your shoulders and… Oh, shit,” Morph shut their mouth with a loud ‘clack’, and looked up at Remy sharply. Cajun was not looking at them, instead staring straight forward, his jaws tensed so much Morph feared if his teeth were going to crack from pure pressure. “I’m sorry, Remy. Kept rambling, didn’t notice I went into that stuff. Didn’t mean to trigger you.”

Remy swallowed hard, his throat seemingly dry, and Morph moved up a couple of stairs to sit right next to him.

“It’s okay if I put my arm on your shoulders?” they asked him gently, their voice steady and understanding. Remy closed his eyes, took a deep breath and nodded. Morph nodded back, not caring that he couldn’t see it, and pulled him into a side-hug. Not saying a word, Morph started breathing - loud and deep for Remy to follow the pattern. It took a couple of minutes for Remy’s breathing to come back to normal.

“Merci, mon ami,” he croaked and cleared his throat, Morph turning their face to him slightly. “I think I really need dat tea now…”

“Yeah,” Morph huffed in response, their lips curving into a weak smile. “Let’s go find Rogue.”

Remy nodded, moving his way out of the hug, Morph pulling away instantly to give him space, and they both stood up. Walking down the halls of the mansion, Remy spoke again.

“How do you notice all dis?” he asked with a curious, yet a bit tired, expression on his face. Morph shrugged.

“I’m an actor. That’s what we do,” they gave him another half-smile and bumped Remy’s shoulder with their own. “Like you don’t notice any details when playing cards! It was you who told me not to play the game, but to play the other players.”

Remy gave out a weak chuckle, wrinkles forming on his forehead.

“...Remy don’t remember dat,” he confessed in a low voice, his eyes moving to the side. Morph took another deep breath, their face full of bitter understanding.

“Memory trouble, yeah?” Remy gave them a silent nod, keeping his eyes away. “That sucks… Did you try to talk with Logan or Jean about that? Maybe they have some advice.”

“My head burst when any telepath try to get into it,” Remy replied, Morph wincing at the image in their head, “Feel like a counteraction. So Professor and Jean be off limits. She had it different.”

“Well, no need to try and fix it the telepath way, y’know?” Morph looked up, trailing their gaze along the ceiling. “Maybe just the talk will be enough.”

Remy didn’t answer, and soon they hit the kitchen, stumbling upon the image of Rogue with a teapot in her hands, finishing setting the small tray that had a couple of tea-cups and a bottle of a beer on it.

“Boys?” she looked up at them, and Morph noticed how tension in Remy’s shoulders melted away immediately. “Bored already of your cat-talks?”

“Dis cat just couldn’t wait for you t’ come back, chère,” Remy grinned, making his way towards her and taking his seat across the island counter she was behind. Morph smiled, looking at them keeping their playful banter as a couple of teenagers. At times they cringed, but remembering what they’ve been through, Morph was simply happy to see them happy.

“There ya go, sugah,” Rogue called out to them, tossing a bottle to them, and Morph turned into Cyclops to grab it, Scott’s voice answering instead of their own.

“Yeah, couldn’t wait to get wasted!” Rogue laughed at the spectacle of their fearless leader flick the bottle open and drop his head back to start chugging.

“Ya can’t get wasted on a beer, Morph,” she shook her head with a smile, as she handed Remy his cup. Cajun was fascinated by the sight of faux-Cyclops drinking more than a half of a bottle now, his lips parted in a surprised smile. “Close yer mouth, sugah, you’ll catch a fly.”

Remy blinked, turning to her, his dumbfounded smile turning into a grin that made Rogue’s heart beat faster.

“Der’s only one who can fly in dis room,” he teased, Rogue narrowing her eyes on him, playful smile creeping on her lips. “You say Remy’ll catch you?”

“Te-he-he,” Morph laughed, turned back into themselves, dropping on the bar stool next to Remy. “He got’ya, girl.”

“You keeping track or somethin’?” Rogue huffed at them with an annoyed frown on her face, Morph only giggling more. Remy chuckled, dutifully drinking the tea under Rogue’s now irritated gaze. Southern Belle watched them both, her arms crossed and eyes narrowed, and the way they both were obviously on their best behavior, a couple of top-A students in front of their teacher, was almost funny. Something else was there, however.

“You two good?” Rogue drawled, worry ringing in her voice faintly, her face and gaze softer than a minute before. Remy looked up at her, lowering his cup with a small nod.

“Just talked a little,” Morph answered for him, raising a bottle to their lips instead. Rogue looked at them for a little while before letting her eyes travel back to watch the Cajun sitting next to them. Morph could see how she tried to mask her worry and survivor’s guilt and all that good old trauma behind a smile, and he knew Remy could see it too. No wonder he was trying to hide his own thoughts as well, not wanting to worry her even more. Those two had to break that vicious circle sooner or later. Morph sighed, knowing full well they weren't the one to help them with it. At least they could help with something else.

“Hey, Remy?” Remy turned to face them, Morph looking like they just got some idea. “If you wanna, we can go watch DR-tapes. Maybe it will jog your memory a little.”

“DR-tapes?” Cajun echoed confused, looking up at Rogue who arching her brow questioningly.

“Most training sessions in Danger Room get recorded,” she explained to him quickly before giving Morph another questioning look, “but Ah thought we lost them during Prime-Sentinels attack?”

“Hank always has backups,” Morph objected, pointing their finger at Rogue to emphasize the point. She gave it a quick thought, before nodding briefly with an unamused expression on her face.

“Ah guess,” Rogue drawled, her fingers curling around her own cup of tea. Remy kept looking between the two, his brain stuck in a confused limbo he was starting to consider its default state. He was beginning hearing the static, white noise he knew would soon drift into something else. Remy brought his cup up to his lips, tea suddenly tasteless. It would always get worse at night, always.

Morph and Rogue continued exchanging phrases, but Remy no longer listened to them, being dragged down into the thick black water. He was up to his calves, when he started to hear white noise melt into wails and cries. They were voices, he knew. He felt his hands travel up to his head, pressing against his ears in a desperate attempt to protect them from the noise, but at the same time there were dozens, hundreds hands he felt grabbing his legs, trying to bring him down, no less desperate than he was.

“Let me go,” he said quietly, air cutting up his tight throat as he spoke. Voices grew louder, knowing that he acknowledged them, and Remy frowned in frustration, black water splashing at his feet. “You need another. Let me go.”

Another who?

Feeling kept creeping up his body, its frigid touch sucking all the warmth he had in him. Remy didn’t want to open his eyes, knowing somehow that if he did, he’d see dark gray skin.

Don’t pretend you don’t know.

“Let me go,” Remy repeated fiercely, shaking his head. Noises kept tearing him apart, hands clawing into his hair and skin, trying to drag him into the blackness of the cold water. “I’m not de one you need. Let me go.”

Dat’s right, homme. No one need you.

“Let me go,” Remy pleaded.

”Let me in,” Death whispered right above his ear.

Remy shot his eyes wide open, his hands dropping straight at the countertop with a loud bang. His cup fell on its side, tea pooling on the surface of the counter in an ugly blotch of brown, the same color his mixed blood had during Apocalypse’s “sessions”. Remy felt his body shake, cold shiver running up his spine as he stumbled over the stool he was sitting on before. Before he could realize what was happening, his spine and the back of his head hit the floor, sending pain through his whole body, and his eyes stared right up at the ceiling, bright light blinding him as he tried to start breathing again.

Thundering of his heartbeat took place of voices, every part of him pulsing alongside his rushing heart. He could feel it in his chest, in his head, even in his fingertips. Fear gripped him by the ribcage, squeezing his lungs as he tried to breathe, inhales coming out too short to provide any reasonable amount of air. Remy all but heard the laughter above his ear again.

Death was dragging him down. He was dying.

A shadow fell down on him, hiding him from the blinding light up above. Small, gentle hands grabbed him by the shoulders, moving his uncooperative body up with ease. Remy felt the warm soft fabric under the skin of his cheek, felt someone’s arms wrapping around him. He didn’t remember who it was, he couldn’t remember a thing. But he knew, deep down in his very soul, he knew that whoever was embracing him - he loved her.

Her chest moved in a steady, slow pattern, Remy’s breath mimicking it instinctively. His eyes drifted shut, as the thumping of his heart started to slow down, quieting.

“Am Ah doin’ it right?”

“Yeah, he’s breathing again. Keep it going, Rogue.”

Remy took a deep shaky breath, and cracked his eyes open, able to see once more. His gaze drifted around, absorbing the scenery.

He found himself on the floor of the mansion’s kitchen, Rogue’s green sweatshirt under his head as she was holding him. Morph was sitting squatted in front of them, watching Remy closely, frown on their face. Once they saw he was conscious again, their eyes lit up.

“Hey there, champ!” Morph smiled nervously. Remy blinked in acknowledgement, his eyelids too heavy to keep his eyes opened fully. “You scared the lady shitless, Rems.”

Remy frowned at the choice of words, but couldn’t bring himself to answer just yet. He felt exhausted. Instead, he chose to lean into Rogue’s shoulder, her warmth chasing away any lingering cold of the black water. She shifted, taking something from Morph, or so Remy thought. He watched as the glass of water appeared in front of his face - and realized how dry his mouth was, his tongue barely moving behind his teeth. Remy accepted the water gratefully, Rogue’s hand helping him as he could not hold it with his own fingers. He was able to drink only half of it, and Rogue handed the glass back to Morph.

“You okay, sugah?” her voice rang above him quietly, her chest vibrating as she spoke. Remy hummed in response, not really knowing if it was a ‘yes’ or a ‘no’. More than anything, he was just…

“Tired,” Remy mumbled, his mouth not as dry now. Morph shot a glance above him, probably at Rogue, and soon Remy felt himself being lifted, Rogue’s shirt still around him as the lights went away.

He was being carried through the halls of the mansion. There were no footsteps, no jolting. Rogue must’ve been flying. The room welcomed him with dim moonlight creeping through the windows. Rogue lowered him down on the bed, it giving a small creaking under his weight. Remy felt her hands releasing his body, uncomfortable cold where her warmth just was. He winced, not wanting her to leave, and raised his hand, trying to catch her by the wrist, the motion written into his very core at this point. She wasn’t moving away, letting him wrap his fingers around her hand. Remy let out a breath, knowledge of her still being there comforting him.

“What did you see, Remy?” Rogue asked him quietly, her gloved thumb running over his skin. Remy wanted to ask her to stay, beg if needed, but instead, he answered her in a small, husky voice, mere seconds before falling into the darkness of sleep.

“L'enfer.”

His whole body felt stiff when Remy finally opened his eyes. It was still dead of the night - no sounds from behind doors or opened windows but distant trees shuffling. Remy grunted, his head lighter than he was used to. He looked around, trying to recollect the pieces of what happened before he got knocked out.

Remy was in the big room, on the enormous king-sized bed with messy sheets. Walls had beautiful molding right under the ceiling. Remy recognized the style, not really remembering the name, but he knew he was in Xavier’s mansion. More than that, he was in the room that must’ve belonged to him. There were decks of cards on the dresser, up in the corner on his right, there was a heavy brown coat on the back of the chair right next to the foot of the bed.

His eyes opened wide as soon as he saw it, something inside him responding at the sight the same way it did when he first heard Rogue calling him Remy after his awakening. That coat was something… Important? Something significant? Something his? He wasn’t sure, could not be sure.

Remy licked his dry lips and rolled his stiff shoulders, tearing his eyes away from the duster and turned his face to the nightstand next to the bed. There was a glass of water - he downed it immediately - and a tablet. Remy blinked at it, surprised, and took the tech in his hands. There was a small piece of paper taped to the screen - ‘DR-tapes I promised’. Remy hummed, tearing the message away, interest in him fighting the tiredness off. He looked at the screen, the tech coming back to life with his touch, and stilled as the video started.

Logan was the first to walk into the giant room, fully covered in metal, yet somehow Remy knew that it would change. Words ‘Danger Room’ ran across his mind as he continued to watch. Logan looked over his shoulder, Morph coming in next, laughing with his mouth wide open in a giant smile. Remy couldn’t hear the words, but somehow he knew that there was a joke or a wisecrack that made his friend burst into laughter. And judging by Logan’s face, it wasn’t him who provided the fun, so it must’ve been…

Remy stopped breathing.

Closing the procession, mere moments before the doors closed behind his back, almost catching the trail of his long brown duster, a man all but waltzed into the camera frame. He grinned, his movement smooth and calculated as he turned around at his heels to face Morph and kept walking backwards. Logan rolled his eyes, grabbing his mask and pulling it down his face, Morph only grinning back at the man in the long coat before looking up and yelling something.

The room changed within moments, trees and dirt pathways taking the place of shiny metal. There were people running away in the distance, there were giant shadows flying above them, dark blotches moving over the three. Wolverine lowered into a more aggressive pose, his teeth bare, his claws sliding right out. Morph said something before changing his form into someone with giant metal wings - Remy felt his insides growing colder at the sight - and shooting right up to meet enemies on their way. The man in a long coat grinned wider, shaking his head - he pulled out something from behind his back, a staff appearing in his hand seemingly out of nowhere, and drew something out from his other pocket. Those were cards, shining bright magenta as the man shot his hand upwards, cards quickly passing Morph’s winged form and taking down the robots right from the sky.

Remy felt his hair stand on end as he continued watching, unable to look away. Wolverine was opening the robots up as tin cans, Morph changed his form every other minute, catching the enemies off guard with new attacks coming their way, but most importantly, there were bright pinkish-purle flashes shining all over them, as another card hit its mark - and the man who was sending them out, the staff in his hands drawing big circles as he used it to jump into the air or to counterattack when the robots got too close or to move away from under the fire.

He was quick and frisky, yet completely calm, cunning and confident - maybe even too much - and he was smiling. Remy felt the energy coming from him through the screen, sparks and mischief and light and life.

At the moment when the man stopped and looked up straight into the camera to give it a two-fingered salute before continuing his fight, Remy felt his heart drop. He pressed the pause button with his shaking fingers, and stared at the image, shiver coming up his spine.

Red-on-black eyes smiled at him from the tablet Remy was holding, auburn hair messy and long, partially covered by the uniform. Wide grin and stubble, gloves with cut-off fingers so he could use his powers when needed, and a bulletproof vest because he had no healing factor or invulnerability. Text in the corner glared at Remy with green letters.

Remy felt like a ghost in the presence of another ghost. Right there, on the screen in his hands, he watched Gambit fight, and laugh, and live. It was a memory Remy did not possess, even though his fingers itched like there was something missing, it was a record of someone dead and gone, like laughter in the tv-shows. Remy took a deep breath, his lungs expanding under his ribs, filling with oxygen and dust. He exhaled through his mouth, trying to focus on the feeling of air moving in and out of his body, trying to grasp on the physical aspect of his existence, but all he could think about was a sudden understanding.

Remy stared at Gambit, his fingers shaking, and something liquid fell on the screen, a drop splashing into small transparent circles. Another drop hit the image, then another, until Remy realized he was the source and put the tablet down, raising his hand to his face instead. There was water on his cheek, hot and salty. Tears.

Remy gulped, his eyes moving back to the screen, to the still image of a person who he knew died. His scar burned through his clothes, and Remy wanted to rip his shirt off and press both his hands to his ribs, to calm the pain down, but he couldn’t move.

Gambit smiled at him with a sparkle in his eyes. Remy cried silently, a broken and twisted reflection of the man in a long brown duster.

His heart ached in a way that made him want to grasp the coat, sitting just a couple feet away from him, and bring it close as a possession of someone he knew so well he would call them a friend. Remy felt his hands tremble as he hid his face in them, sharp shaky breath seeping through his teeth.

“Désolé”, he wept in a hush tone, ache tearing him from inside out, its dull claws ripping him apart, “Je suis vraiment désolé…”

The room suddenly grew so small and suffocating, Remy couldn’t be in it anymore. Everything screamed Gambit at him - the cards on the dresser, the color of the curtains, the bed, the chairs, the cooking books and small boxes of picklocks, it all was drowning him the same way thick black water used to, but this time he wasn’t in his head.

Remy had no idea at what moment he rushed to the window and jumped out of it in search of fresh air and shelter, how did he manage to hit the ground without a sound in a well-practiced way, his body moving on auto-pilot, and why did he run towards the other wing of the mansion. He needed to get away from the ghosts chasing him, he wanted to hide and feel safe, tears stinging his eyes, choking him. When Remy was able to think straight again, he found himself panting on the balcony about half-a-mansion away from the room he was just in. Confused, Remy looked down, at the fifteen feet drop right under the balcony he somehow ignored while getting up there. He blinked, trying to reverse engineer his way up, soon realizing there was a tree on the side of the balcony. He must’ve climbed it and from there - simply jumped up…

Remy growled in frustration, raising his hand up to press it to his aching forehead. Where was he, anyway? Whose room had he almost broken into? Remy looked up, his hand covering his mouth, and stared at the glass doors. There was a web of cracks on them, not yet fixed, and they were cracked open. Remy swallowed, his mouth dry again, and slowly moved, almost tip-toeing as he came closer to the doors without a sound.

He peeked inside. It was a smaller room than Gambit’s, and it seemed much more lived in. A couple of shelves full of books, an arm-chair next to it, some open novels and a blanket laying on it. A chair, upon which a leather jacket was thrown. Dresser, almost identical to what Remy’s seen in Gambit’s room. But what caught his eyes was the bed. Or, frankly, the one who occupied it.

Rogue was sleeping in her oversized t-shirt, blanket covering her up to her waist. She was facing the other direction, so Remy could not see her face, but he heard her. And when he did, he rushed in without any thought, because she was crying.

Quiet, small sobs were breaking the silence and Remy’s heart, as she clutched to the sheets through her nightmare. Remy wanted to grab her by the shoulders, wanted to bring her close to his chest and have her hidden from all the fears that terrorized her, from anything bad that could’ve happened to her. But before he could come close enough, he heard her speak.

“Remy…” Rogue whimpered, her face distressed and twisted in pain, “Gambit…”

Remy stopped in his tracks, cold comprehension washing over him, making his heart drop straight through the floor - or wonder if he even had a heart, and even if he did - was it his or not. Because he wasn’t Gambit she cried for. He wasn’t Remy she lost, they all lost.

And wasn’t it cruel, to make her wake up to the twisted abomination with the face of a person she knew so well just to see it wasn’t him?

Remy couldn’t do that to her, not to her. Rogue was one thing he had the utmost trust in, he couldn’t hurt her like that.

“Remy…” she cried again, and Remy raised his hand to his ribs, pressing it against his rushing heart, his burning scar. No, no, he couldn’t. No matter how much it hurt him, he couldn’t hurt her too.

So Remy took a step back, feeling like a part of him tore itself apart from him and stayed in the room, kneeling in front of Rogue, comforting and shushing her. He wished with all his being that it could be him, that he could be the one to give her the world and care for her and love her - but he wasn’t. Remy made himself turn around, Rogue’s voice still ringing in his ears, hot tears running down his face, stinging and burning like acid, and grabbed a small twig to throw it into the nearby window.

When the light got on in Rogue’s room and Storm came in to wake up and calm down her dear friend, Remy stayed on the ground under the windows, his back pressed against the brick wall in silent pondering about what would he do now.

“Professor?”

Xavier turned around, questioning hum escaping him, as he looked at the tall form of a mutant in his doorway. Glimpse of red on his face, his always straight stature - Charles would’ve known it was him even if he didn’t recognize the voice already.

“What is the matter,” he asked, his calm demeanor shifting into concern as he saw the lips of his student press into a thin line, “Scott?”

Cyclops crossed his arms with a deep inhale before speaking. Charles needn't be a telepath to see he still was unhappy with him, but he had no intention to judge or accuse him of distrust. That one talk with another red-eyes student of his already proved that Xavier judged himself far more than any of X-men. He was working through it.

“It’s- It’s Remy,” Scott spoke finally, Charles choosing not to mention the stutter. He knew that Scott was having the worst time adjusting to this particular change, use of code-names being much more comfortable for him, but he was also one of the first to address Remy by his name in order to comfort his hurt teammate. Scott was always a kind boy, and he grew up into an incredibly understanding man. It was one of the things Charles was most proud of.

“Did something happen?” Xavier frowned, moving his wheelchair around so he could face Scott fully. Cyclops shook his head, his arms still crossed, his face showing no less concern than that of Charles.

“Not yet,” he said in a quiet tone. Xavier arched his eyebrow, question in his eyes. Scott sighed, moving his hand up instinctively, placing it on the back of his neck. “Let’s just say I have a feeling that he’s about to do something stupid.”

“I see,” Charles nodded, lowering his gaze, thinking. Remy was more skittish than he’s seen him after that talk they shared in the medbay, and the way he avoided his fellow X-men for the past few days was indeed troubling. The worst thing was that no one seemed to have courage to ask him straight what was wrong. Afraid and confused, no one knew what to do, so it seemed Scott came to his last resort.

“You want me to talk to him?”

“You were in his head,” Cyclops shrugged, a simple fact without any intention or emotion in his voice. “You must have the best idea of what’s going on there.”

“I suspect you have a couple of your own,” Charles replied, making Scott let out another sigh as he looked away.

“I see he’s nervous. Jean says he’s afraid, but she doesn’t know what of. He keeps hiding from everyone,” Cyclops pressed his lips into a thin line, feeling somewhat ashamed. “And I don’t know how to talk to him.”

Xavier nodded once more, his hands resting on his lap, as he looked up at Scott with a soft smile.

“I will talk to him today. Thank you for telling me, Scott.”

Cyclops huffed, turning away, and mumbled something under his breath before leaving the room. And even though Charles didn’t mention it, he heard every word - “I’m doing this for him, not you”.

”So you are going.”

“Dat sound more like a statement dan a question, mon ami,” Gambit chuckled, continuing to pack his few belongings into a duffel bag. Scott noted a couple of garment bags, folded neatly, before Cajun covered them with a small bag of toiletries. Cyclops had always had a sense of when his teammates were about to do some stupid and unpredictable shit - after meeting with Spider-Man others tended to call it his “boyscout-sense” - but it would ring non-stop around Gambit and Wolverine, so Scott got used to ignoring it. Right now, though, he decided to listen to it, and, maybe, even use Gambit’s shenanigans for greater good.

“You know that you were not invited,” Scott raised an eyebrow, his arms crossing by themselves.

“Oui.”

“And you’re still going.”

“I invited myself,” Gambit smirked at him, making Cyclops let out a tired sigh. Remy’s expression shifted, getting a bit more stern. “If you think Gambit’s letting dem go on der own, you wrong. And if you think you can stop him from goin’...”

“Then I’m wrong again, ‘cause you’ll probably sneak onto the Black Bird anyway,” Scott finished for him, Gambit letting out a light-hearted huff before turning back to finish his packing. “Listen, Gambit, I get that you don’t trust Magneto, I’m still working around it too. But he seems to be improving at least.”

“Gonna tell me to buckle down?”

“No,” Gambit looked at Scott, dumbfounded, half-expecting it to be a joke, but Summer’s face was as serious as ever. “Going to ask you to keep an eye on him. And on Rogue. And on everything that happens in Genosha.”

Remy blinked a couple of times, turning to face Cyclops fully, and let out a small confused laughter.

“You askin’ Gambit to spy, Cyke?”

“I’m asking you to gather information,” Cyclops corrected him, tilting his head slightly as Gambit narrowed his eyes on him, a grin stretching on his lips. “You will go nonetheless, so it is only logical to ask that of you.”

“Why not Rogue?”

“She’ll be too excited, probably,” Cyclops shrugged, Gambit giving his words a thought before letting out an agreeing hum. “And as I said, I’m still working around all that Magneto situation. So, you are the best man for the job.”

Gambit chuckled lightly, shaking his head, slight disbelief in his eyes. Scott arched an eyebrow on him, but Remy just gave him that look of his that always seemed to mean he had a plan.

“Okay, mon ami, Gambit’s up,” he nodded, Cyclops returning the gesture as he relaxed and let his arms fall from the crossed position he had them in. “Wanna have a full report de next day?”

“Or as soon as you’re back, your choice,” Cyclops shrugged once again, and Remy chuckled again, drawling a quiet ‘mais’.

They kept their little mission a secret, Gambit sending Scott a small report right before the Gala started. He read it between interviews, thinking about all the implications of such a country existing and how that was going against Professor’s wishes instead of along with them. Before they could really talk and put it all up for discussion, a tragedy struck.

A terrorist act. A genocide.

His teammates were there, and he wasn’t, he couldn’t do anything but wait for the news, anxiety and horror and guilt eating him alive.

And when he saw the distant distorted image of someone with dirty white and auburn hair cradling someone's broken and bloodied body at the center of the explosion crater, when he realized there was Nightcrawler, of all people, curling up to that person close as they cried their lungs out - Scott was sure as hell it was no Magneto Rogue was grieving for.

The way to Remy’s room was quiet - Xavier was almost looking for his other students, but it seemed everyone was hiding in their private spaces, no matter if it was a bedroom, a lab, a greenhouse or even the Danger Room. Charles simply hoped that the person he was looking for the most would still be in the mansion.

Remy had always had that slight tendency to go do his own thing, and there were times when they all expected him not to come down for breakfast as he escaped into the night once and for all. He surprised them each time, not only greeting them with a grin but with a pot of freshly-made gumbo. It was no problem for him to leave unnoticed, even Logan admitted that he would be able to detect his absence only post-factum, but Gambit stayed, his bonds with the team growing stronger as well as their trust.

When he first came out of the spaceship he crashed into his own front lawn, Charles already knew Remy was gone. More than that, he knew he was dead - he saw him, glowing red eyes and stark white bones, in that vision that shot him through space and straight into his heart, breaking it into million pieces. There was no doubt, so when he met others, when he saw Rogue clinging to his coat, all Charles could do was to accept it. He let them down. He let Remy down.

More than that, when Gambit returned, Xavier could not help but think that it was his fault too. He tried to push it down, knowing such emotions were nothing but a mere chaos, destruction and pain, but the thoughts were still squirming in his brain like venomous snakes, poisoning him from within. And the sight of Apocalypse giving Gambit a command to kill them to which Remy obeyed without question, calling him “son” - it all haunted him, making Charles realize how much he wronged his children.

As he pulled up to the door, Charles took a deep breath, gathering his composure for the talk he was about to have. He knocked on the door.

“Remy?”

There was no answer, but the sudden wave of fear mixed up with surprise washed over him, making the world seem maroon-tinted for a second. Xavier blinked the vision away, recognizing the empathic trace of Remy instantly. He was one of the few who knew that Cajun charm was a little bit more than just a saying when it came to Gambit, and kept that secret as well as many others.

“Remy, I’m coming in.”

The door opened with a slight creak, Charles trying to make as much noise as possible while keeping it low-key, to announce his presence as well as not to startle the man. Remy grew up a thief. He probably knew he was coming as soon as Xavier entered the hallway.

The lights were out except for a nightstand lamp, lighting up the space at the best of its abilities. The shadows were sharp and deep, dancing on the walls as Xavier moved into the room, closing the door behind him. He looked around, searching for a familiar presence he already felt, but not seeing it yet. Instead, he smelled the heavy odor of cigar smoke he usually sensed around Logan’s bedroom even after he prohibited smoking in the school. Squinting his eyes, Xavier finally saw the hunched form of a man in front of an open window in a cloud of smoke. Charles’ insides crawled uncomfortably at the sight.

“Remy,” he called out again, moving further into the room and taking in the surroundings. There was a tablet on a nightstand, next to an empty glass, both covered in a thin layer of dust. There was a pile of clothes next to the bed, and a duffel bag, filled sloppily so he could see the garments being all messed and curled up in it. There was a brown coat resting on the foot of the bed, the only thing placed with somewhat of a care in the whole room. And finally, there was Remy, whose red eyes glowed at him in the semi-darkness as he put out a cigar and threw it out of the window.

“Bonne nuit, Professor,” he answered in a dry hoarse voice, sliding down from the windowsill he was sitting on back into the room. Xavier stopped, waiting for him politely, as Remy took another long breath and exhaled through his mouth before coming up to him. Charles watched him closely, seeing the weariness in his student’s eyes. “What do I owe de pleasure?”

“You seem a bit detached lately. I merely came to ask how are you doing,” Charles stated calmly, taking another round of looking around the room. This time he noticed a bunch of scrambled paper towels next to the window, stained with blood. He narrowed his eyes at the sight, Remy shooting his eyes the same direction before scrunching his nose in frustration. It didn’t escape Xavier’s attention, so he simply looked at the Cajun a bit more closely and asked, “Are you alright, Remy?”

“Jus’ nosebleed,” he grumbled back, avoiding Xavier’s eyes. “Bête said somethin’ like dis can happen.”

“Have you told him it did?” asked Charles carefully.

Remy pressed his lips into a thin like, still avoiding his eyes.

“Remy, you must know that hiding your feelings and struggles from others is not healthy for you,” Xavier spoke slowly, his calm voice making Remy turn away completely and come back to the window. “My boy-”

“Don’t”.

Xavier stopped, Remy’s furious growl catching him by surprise. Charles saw him curl his fingers into the wood of the windowsill, all but leaving tracks. His shoulders shuddered from the tension and for a second Xavier worried if he saw purple shining up on Remy’s skin.

“Don’t,” Remy repeated, his back still turned to Xavier, and shook his head. His voice lost its anger, something else taking its place. “You sound like him.”

Charles felt his heart skip a beat, terror crawling up his skin, but he tried to keep his voice even. It reminded him of Rogue, just before she left with Magnus, accusing him of not seeing them as people instead of students. He still saw the disappointment in her eyes when he closed his own.

“I am sorry,” Xavier apologized, genuine regret betraying him as his words trembled at the end. “I never meant to belittle you. Please, forgive my poor choice of words.”

Remy kept his silence, simply taking another deep breath. Charles watched as his shaking calmed down, his empathy attacking Xavier once more, confirming the fears that grew in him ever since he entered Remy’s room. Feeling of being trapped caught his breath, suffocating with its merciless grip. Charles gulped, regaining his ability to think straight.

“You want to leave?” he asked Remy quietly, the man in front of him hunching lower. It was obvious, the bags and the hiding giving his intentions away. Charles spoke once again, Remy shuddering at his words. “Gambit, it is dangerous for you to be alone, your powers-”

“My powers ain’t de biggest problem right now, Professor,” Remy cut him off, turning around sharply, his red eyes glowing in the shadows. He shook his head and took a couple of steps towards the bed, stopping right in front of the brown duster laying on it. Remy frowned, closing his eyes and waving his hand helplessly. “It’s too… Loud.”

“Too loud?” Charles echoed, confusion on his face, as he tried his best to understand his student’s condition. Remy looked at him again, no anger left in his eyes, just familiar weariness. “In the mansion?”

Remy chuckled humorlessly at the question, and simply shook his head.

“Non.”

His fingers trembled, Charles saw it, as Remy slowly raised his hand, his eyes darting back and forth before stopping at the Professor with an almost pleading look in them. He pointed to his temple and whispered.

“Here.”

For a moment Charles thought his heart stopped as the cold wave of comprehension swept him away into an ocean of horror. For a moment he thought that he made an enormous mistake he was not able to fix. He was the one who put Remy’s mind back together - whatever wrong was with him, it must’ve been his fault. It took him a second to rationalize the situation and come to the conclusion that whatever Remy was going though, was connected to his death and rebirth, to the trauma he survived.

Remy let his hand drop back, almost lifelessly, as it swung back and forth for a short moment, and stilled next to his body. It looked awfully like someone was checking the stage of rigor mortis and Charles hated himself for the comparison his mind made. Xavier swallowed the lump in his throat, blinking the shock away, as Remy turned around and lowered in front of the bed, his back hitting it as he leaned on the dark wooden frame.

“Can you tell me?” Professor asked quietly, his wheelchair moving closer to Remy, but leaving him space he needed. Cajun took another long breath, dropping his head backwards on the mattress. He stayed quiet for a long moment before opening his eyes and staring straight up.

“Voices,” he started, his shoulders tensing up a bit. “And black water. Dey call for Remy, but Remy keep runnin’ away. Scared of water. Scared of voices.”

“Do you know why they call for you?” Charles inquired further, careful not to pressure him too much. Remy hesitated, his brows furrowing.

“Ain’t sure,” he confessed in a quiet voice, keeping his eyes on the ceiling. “Can’ figure out what dey say. Just know dey be callin’.”

“And why does that make you scared?” Xavier continued, studying Remy’s face. Remy gulped, his eyes flickering with fear.

“Der’s something in de water,” he whispered, turning his face to Charles. A small, bitter smile touched his lips. “Remy sound crazy, eh?”

“Not at all,” Xavier assured him, shaking his head slightly. Remy lowered his eyes on the floor, and Charles watched thoughts running behind red-on-black. “Remy, no one expects you to be okay straight away. Don’t get me wrong, the team is happy to have you back, but considering what you’ve been through, it’s only natural that you have your struggles.”

“Dat’s what Morph said,” Remy mumbled quietly, and Charles made a mental note on speaking to them as well. At least to thank them for keeping an eye on Remy.

“And aren’t they right?” Xavier smiled, his smile amicable and soothing, but Remy didn’t look at him, examining his own hands instead. He seemed detached from reality or wanted to seem that way. Charles decided to change the approach.

“I cannot use telepathy, Remy,” he reminded him carefully, Remy curling and uncurling his fingers into a fist as if trying to get a grip on a sensation of even having a hand. “Can you, please, tell me, what do you remember? Prior to waking up in medbay?”

Remy stopped, his expression shifting as his eyes moved across the room as if he was moving across his own memory - Charles saw how lost he seemed.

“Ain’t remember nothing,” Remy spoke finally, his voice tight, almost a frustrated growl. He shook his head once more, his hair getting messier as he brushed his fingers through it. “I just… Know.”

“Alright,” Xavier agreed, his voice calm and steady. “What do you know then?”

"I know I was never your student. Not de way others were," he started, his voice uncertain, almost lost. Charles narrowed his eyes on him, catching every word. "But I still call you Professor. I know I respected you. I know you believed in me when I didn't believe in myself. I don't remember when or why. But I know.”

Remy’s eyes all but nailed him to place when he asked, his voice full of confusion.

“Why do I know you were gone?"

Xavier's jaw tensed as he took a slow and deep breath. Images of a far-away galaxy, the Court and terrible vision flooded his mind. Lilandra watched him with concern and pain from his own memories, and Charles was using all his power not to look back at her.

"Because I was gone, G-" he cut himself off for a second, seeing the mutant in front of him tense up, "Remy."

"Like me?"

There was some hint of hope in his voice, and Xavier felt the guilt twisting his insides as he shook his head slightly.

"No," he saw Remy's gaze fall back down. "I never died. I simply was too far away."

"Space, eh?"

Charles blinked in surprise, words slipping from his lips before he could stop them.

"You remember?"

Remy smiled bitterly, looking up at Professor from over his shoulder.

"I know."

Xavier blinked, giving him a slight nod, and looked away for a moment. If Remy was opening up to him, it was only fair to say something in return. To be a person and not an almighty teacher figure. That mask was already broken down for good. But before he could say anything, Remy spoke again.

“Dey mourn him.”

Charles looked up at him in surprise, soon shifting into confusion, as he watched Remy stare up at the ceiling again.

“Who?” Professor asked carefully, Remy’s face staying as unbothered as he was a moment ago.

“Gambit,” Remy replied with such calm, Xavier felt his whole body growing cold. “Dey mourn him, and I… I’m not him. Just happen to have his body and mind and feelings…” Remy closed his eyes, his brows drawing together as he winced, his teeth baring in a painful grin. “All those feelings…”

“Remy,” Charles called out to him, quiet and soothing, but he cut him off again. Remy chuckled bitterly, before tilting his head to look straight at Xavier.

“You know de worst part, Professor?”

“Yes, Remy?”

“Dey look at me like dey see a ghost. And I feel dey right. I feel like a ghost.”

Charles kept his silence, his expression betraying him, as he felt his throat grow tighter. Remy watched him, searching for something in his eyes, perhaps hoping for any kind of advice he could give, and Xavier kept his silence.

“And I mourn Gambit too,” Remy added in a small voice, a single tear escaping the corner of his eye, and for a moment it looked like a drop of blood sliding down his face. Charles swallowed a lump in his throat, his own eyes burning with unshed tears, and slowly outstretched a hand towards Remy, still sitting next to the bed. Cajun stared at his hand silently, before raising his own trembling fingers and placing them in the palm of Xavier’s.

“No one knows what you had to endure, Remy,” Professor started quietly, squeezing his fingers around Remy’s slightly. “After everything that happened, you have all the right not to feel like yourself. But believe me when I say - we - your friends, your family - are happy with you just being around. You just being alive is enough.”

Remy was catching his every word, Charles saw it, the hope flickering in his red eyes once more. They were so small, those sparks, but the thought of them still being there made Charles promise himself to do everything he could to keep them alight.

“If you need to go, then you are free to do so. I have no right to keep you locked up or give you orders,” Xavier continued, surprise making Remy blink at his words. Charles squeezed his hand a bit tighter, making Remy listen to him. “But as your friend, I tell you - don’t run.”

Remy frowned in confusion, his eyes darting between Xavier’s as he stared straight into his soul. He was seeking for something, maybe a hint of manipulation or lie or bluff, but Charles knew he wouldn’t find any of it. For a rare moment, he wasn’t speaking to his student who needed guidance, no. He was talking to his friend, who simply asked for support. Instead of pushing his opinions on him, Charles merely was giving him advice in hope of helping.

“Don’t run,” he repeated, Remy pressing his lips into a thin line. “Let others know you need time. Let them know you’re not disappearing. Please, Remy,” Charles felt his tears finally dropping from his eyelashes, creeping down his cheeks, as his voice quivered, “let us help.”

Remy grabbed his hand tighter, as if it was his only support at the moment, and shook his head lightly, his whole face twisting in pain and tension.

“I wanna believe you, Professor,” he rasped, shooting his eyes up on Charles, who watched him with nothing but acceptance in his eyes, and it made Remy’s heart ache even more. “I really do…”

“And that is enough,” Xavier assured him, Remy’s fingers all but nailing into the skin of Charles’ hand as he grabbed it even harder, his trembling grasp revealing how scared he actually was.

“We are here for you, anything you need we can we will give you. And if space and time is what you need, then you are free to take it. But please, don’t run. Say goodbye. Let them know.”

“D’accord,” Remy rasped, his breathing shallow and sharp, “d’accord…”

Charles gave his hand another squeeze, and silenced, the night and sharp shadows being the only other witnesses of his friend’s - his student’s, one of his children’s - unraveling.

News had always moved around the mansion quickly, even if you don’t count telepaths in. Knowing each other so well, X-men could figure out what was happening with nothing but a bare glance to one another. So when Professor X came down that morning (no one really slept since he went to speak to Remy, anxiously waiting), everyone knew that something was about to change. For better or for worse, no one really could tell, but then Remy himself stepped out of his room and came down for breakfast. Beast, Wolverine, Morph and Storm were already there, as Scott took Jean and Rogue for the patrol, and Jubilee and Roberto were down in the Danger Room.

Tired of everyone walking on eggshells around him, Remy announced his decision himself.

“Imma leave tonight, mes amis,” he said at the table, as others froze at the sound of his voice, and shoved another whole fork of mac and cheese in his mouth. Wolverine coughed, his food going down the wrong pipe, but soon he regained his composure, exchanging glances with Morph. Wincing at the taste, Remy looked up, his calm gaze looking for something behind dumbfounded Storm in front of him. “Ah, der it is.”

Remy stood up, walked around the table and grabbed the small glass bottle full of chili powder. As he made his way back to his chair, Beast was first to clear his throat and speak.

“Are you sure about this, my friend?”

Remy nodded with a hum, spicing his food up, took another taste and started chewing absently.

“Brother,” Storm bent slightly to him, her hand moving up to his, and Remy looked at her, just as calm as he was a second before. Ororo studied his face carefully, looking for something. “Are you sure about this?”

“I am, Stormy” he answered verbally this time, his brows twitching slightly. Storm narrowed her eyes, but didn’t say anything. “Der’re things Remy gotta figure out on his own. Can’t do it here.”

For a moment, there was only silence. After that - a question.

“Need any help with packing up, bub?” Logan asked him, no sadness or resentment in his voice. Remy was grateful for that.

“Remy’s bike still workin’?” Remy asked almost sheepishly, like he wasn’t sure that bike was even intact.

“I’ll check it for’ya,” Wolverine answered, a small ‘merci’ from Remy announcing for this part of the conversation to be done. After that there were swift questions about where was he about to go - Remy had no idea - what was he about to do - very small idea he had - and if he needed any other help. To that Remy only chuckled nervously, Morph coming up to his defense with their experience.

“If he needs anything else, he’ll tell us,” Morph declared with confidence, their arm shooting across Remy’s shoulders as they pulled him into a side-hug he was beginning to get used to. “Right, pal?”

“Oui,” Remy nodded, his voice small, a smile on his lips. Morph nodded back.

“I have to run some more tests before you leave, Remy,” Beast said guiltily, but Remy only nodded, finishing his cup of coffee. “We must be sure nothing unexpected happens while you are away.”

“A’course, Bête,” Remy replied, grabbing his empty plate and mug and putting them down into the sink. He smiled, relief flickering in his eyes briefly, as he looked back at Hank. “Gotta keep Remy’s powers in check, ain’t we?”

Running those tests took another couple of hours, Hank checking literally everything, so when Remy walked out of the lab alongside his blue furry friend, the whole mansion was caught up on the news. To keep Jubilee from throwing herself at Remy, both Storm and Jean had to talk her into helping them in the town (she agreed only after she was promised they’d be back before he left). Besides that, Remy had a somewhat peaceful walk back to his room, so radically different from one had a couple nights prior, when he had to literally grab the walls to not fall down from exhaustion and pain eating him alive.

When Remy opened the door, there was a person standing in the middle of his room, and his heart skipped a beat as he recognized the frame of her body, still wrapped in her uniform, and the color of her white-streaked hair.

“Chère?” he called out to her in a small voice, taking another step in and letting the door stay open behind him. Rogue turned around, her arms around her in a tight self-hug as she caught his eyes, her own gaze lost and saddened. Remy felt his face falling, his brows drawing together almost instinctively. He knew he was good at hiding his emotions, but somehow around her that skill was nothing but words. He wondered what would’ve happened if instead of Xavier it was her who found him last night. He wondered if he could’ve brought himself to tell her everything as he did with Professor.

“You leaving?”

Rogue watched him look away and press his lips into a thin line. When he looked up at her again, he almost looked guilty and Rogue felt a knife twisting in her heart.

“Oui.”

Rogue gave him a couple of sharp small nods as she turned away to look at his messy clothes so he couldn’t see how she bit her bottom lip to stop it from quivering. When others told her, Rogue feared she was too late. And then Professor came in to explain his reasoning.

Remy needed time to figure out what was happening in his head. He needed time to make peace with everything that happened to him.

“Yer clothes are all kinds of mess, sugah,” Rogue rasped as she grabbed his duffel bag and pulled out something that looked like a tight knot made out of fabric. She wondered if those were ones of his pants. They seemed clean enough, but very, very wrinkly.

“Didn’t know what t’ take,” Remy admitted from behind her, and Rogue called up onto all of her willpower not to let tears fall down her cheeks. She couldn’t keep a sniff, though, the sound of it cutting through the quietness of the room.

“Ya got yer toothbrush?” she asked him in the same tight voice, as she fished another garment from his bag to fold it and place it on the bed.

“Wanted to get a new one,” he answered, still as quiet, while Rogue took care of his clothes. “Remy have some money to spend on all that little stuff. Brushes, razors an’ all.”

Rogue finally turned around to meet his eyes, finding him looking at her just as sheepishly, his hands in his pockets, looking aside. Remy glanced at her briefly, and his eyes shot wide open, concern written all over his face, his hands raising up towards her immediately, stopped only by some second thought she saw running through his mind.

“Chère, you cry?” Remy asked, watching her closely, as he came up to her hurriedly, both worry and care in his eyes killing her slowly. Rogue raised her hand, the leather of her gloves running along her cheekbone, and looked down on her fingers. The dew of her tears glared at her mockingly.

“Sorry,” Rogue rasped, shaking her head. “Sorry, it’s not your fault. It’s okay.”

“Rogue…”

She smiled sadly, his soft voice all but hugging her, as she wiped her tears away. Rogue took a deep breath, regaining her composure, and looked up at him, his eyes still fixated on her.

“It’s okay, Remy, really,” she assured him as best as she could, raising her gloved hand to place it on his cheek. The way he leaned into the touch made her insides flutter and her heart tighten with guilt. “Ah’m sorry Ah worried you.”

She ran her thumb over his cheekbone, took another breath and tried to withdraw her hand away, but his fingers caught hers halfway, making her blink in surprise and glance at their hands for a second before all her nervousness melted into a soft smile. Rogue sighed silently, watching Remy intertwine their fingers, and looked up at him, searching for something in his glowing eyes.

“Remy,” she called for him. “If there’s anythin’ Ah can do, you tell me, okay?”

Remy was silent for a moment, watching their hands, still mere inches away from their faces, and looked down at her. Rogue felt her breath being caught when he spoke, him looking almost shy.

“Can Remy hold you?”

Her whole being lit in a bright flame, when she saw his eyes. She knew those eyes. She remembered those eyes, that care and love and silent wait for permission. Of course, he would ask for one, he never went where he wasn’t invited. And those eyes looked straight through her, down her very soul, stripping away all those walls she took years to build, just like every other time. She was so afraid to be vulnerable around someone, even Erik’s ability to touch her unable to breach that barrier. No one but Remy could. Ever since he died, she got wrapped up in her walls. Ever since he kissed her back in his own mind, giving her a chance to come and save him, those walls acted as her crutch, helping her stay awake and fighting. Ever since he woke up - his skin bright magenta, his face in her hands, his voice raspy and quiet ‘Why do you cry?’ - she felt them suffocating her. She had to stay strong for him, had to be stoic, happy for him to be back, but secrets rotted inside her, poisoning her, mocking her as her heart bled out. She was nothing more but a foolish girl, scared and tired. And he was leaving. And he was asking permission to hold her.

Rogue felt her eyes burn again as she wrapped her arms around his neck in a single swift motion, her face burying into his shoulder.

Oh, God, it felt like home. She could feel him embracing her, his hands moving up her back sheepishly, carefully, until one of them finally settled along her shoulder, the other resting just above her waist. Rogue wondered if he was afraid to hold her properly, but the thought didn’t linger for long as she heard him speak once more.

“It hurt?”

She opened her eyes, but couldn’t look at him without breaking the embrace and she was not ready for that yet. Instead, Rogue squeezed her arms around him even tighter, her hair being a barrier for their faces not to touch.

“What?”

Rogue’s voice was just as quiet as Remy’s was, almost a whisper, muffled by their clothes. She didn’t understand what he was asking about. She wasn’t hurt in battle, she had no injuries and he was holding her like she was made of something fragile and precious. If anything, Rogue must’ve been the one asking if it hurt, considering she was all but smothering him with her tight grip.

“Lookin’ at me,” Remy whispered right above her ear, yet he sounded distant. Rogue felt her heart drop straight to her toes. “Do it hurt you?”

Rogue squeezed her eyes shut, her fingers clawing into the fabric of his plain shirt, and nuzzled into his shoulder. Her throat grew tighter, a lump in it feeling about the size of the Moon. Remy squeezed his fingers on her shoulder. She heard him take a breath, shaky. Almost scared.

“Rogue,” he called for her, his voice colored in pain and pleading. Rogue blinked her tears away. It was no time to be sorry for herself, she’ll always be able to do it later and get her rightly deserved slap on the face from Ororo and Kurt. Right now, Remy needed her. This time, she was right there, and he was right in her arms - alive and breathing - and she could help. And she could tell him the truth.

Rogue swallowed the lump in her throat and pulled away, her hands still on Remy’s shoulders, as she looked him right in his eyes. There was a long, agonizingly long, second before she finally was able to open her mouth and answer.

“Yes.”

She saw his eyes widen just barely, his brows tense and twitch, his lips press together. He still watched her, and Rogue hurried to raise both of her hands and catch his face so he couldn’t look away. She saw Remy catch his breath in surprise.

“It hurts me to see ya hurtin’,” Rogue explained, her voice firm and even. She needed him to understand, she needed him to listen to her. “It hurts me to see ya lost and confused. But none of it, hear me,” she pressed her hands to his cheeks, pulling his face closer, “none of it is your fault.”

Remy took a sharp breath, his red eyes glowing as she stared at him, so close Rogue could feel the warmth of his body on her skin. But more than that - she could feel his breath brush gently against her face, she could see the blood rushing to his face, a soft blush blooming across his cheeks - she hoped she didn’t squeeze too hard to cause that - and she could see thoughts behind his eyes.

“Got it?” she asked him, still quiet and firm, and Remy nodded, his movement short and jerky.

“Yes, ma’am,” he smirked awkwardly, and Rogue couldn’t help but huff, a smile stretching on her lips. She lowered her hands back down, wrapping his neck and shoulders with her arms again, this time not as desperately.

“Ah can see you hurtin’ and Ah can’t bear you doin’ it alone. Talk to me, Remy,” she asked, hiding her face in his shirt again. His hand pressed against her shoulder blade, bringing her closer. “Please.”

Another silent second passed them, taking a whole eternity before Remy opened his mouth.

“My memory be a mess, chère,” he confessed, his thumb moving up and down her shoulder, the leather of her uniform jacket pulling along his motions. Rogue wondered if the action kept him focused - like it did when he shuffled his cards absent-mindently. “My mind, all of it, a mess. And when Remy try to sort it out, grab something and put it in place…”

Rogue heard him taking another sharp breath.

“It be hard.”

She pressed her cheek against his shoulder, her nose hiding in her own elbow, muffling her voice.

“Ah’m sorry, sugah.”

“Remy bet Gambit never had such problems,” he chucked bitterly, the rumble of his humorless laughter running though her as well. Rogue looked up on him, her cheek still on his shoulder. Remy was looking down, past her, a smile - nervous, sad, bitter - creeping on his lips. She saw tears welling up in his eyes, and she was more than sure they stung him.

“More than you think,” Rogue disagreed quietly, sympathy breaking her heart in two. She saw Remy shoot a glance at her, hope mixed with disbelief in his eyes, and sighed. “When you remember… You’ll know what Ah mean.”

“You seem confident I will, chère,” Remy murmured, his head dropping to hit her arm, and Rogue watched him carefully not to touch him accidentally.

“Ah know you will,” she assured him, raising one of her hands to ruffle his long auburn hair. Remy closed his eyes with a soft sigh, her soothing him. At this very moment, he seemed so calm, it made Rogue want to claw her aching heart and smash it into tiny pieces, because how could she break this… This small, distant, quiet island of peace, this ghost of what could’ve been if she just told him right away…

Rogue swallowed another lump in her throat. If only she just told him, she might’ve spared him all this pain. He might have even stayed alive…

“Remy,” Rogue called, a silent glance being her answer. She saw his eyes flickered at her, watching her carefully. “Ah need you to know somethin’.”

Remy arched his eyebrow slightly, still waiting for her to finish.

For a moment, Rogue wanted to tell him everything. She wanted to tell him that she killed a man in search of pointless revenge. She wanted to tell him how she gave Bastion the biggest left hook of her life in his name. She wanted to tell him she didn’t even see his grave because she feared she might’ve stayed there forever. She wanted to tell him she loved him. So, so bad.

She loved him. Unapologetically, undeniably, irrevocably.

“When you remember, Ah need you to know that Ah chose you that night,” she said instead, guilt trying to suffocate her, dripping from her lips with every word as blood from the old wound. “Ah need you to know that… Ah refused, in the end. Ah was gonna find another way to help mutants, was gonna find you and make things right.”

Remy watched her, confusion in his eyes, as he replied, just as quiet as before.

“I have no idea what’ya talkin’ about, chère.”

“That’s okay,” she smiled, tears shining in her eyes. She saw it took Remy a lot of willpower not to raise his hand to wipe them, so she did it herself, withdrawing the arm he had his forehead against, making him raise his head back up. “Just when you do… Try to forgive me, okay?”

“Rogue.”

She blinked, Remy’s voice, suddenly stern, demanding her attention. Rogue sniffed, before raising her eyes back up at him. Remy’s face was so serious and dark, for a moment she feared he just remembered what she meant and was going to reject her right there. Rogue felt her heart squeeze in fear, but she was going to endure anything he saw fit. Even if he decided to simply blow her up with his powers - she would take it.

“Whatever you think you need Remy to forgive you for,” he spoke in a low rumbly voice, making Rogue catch her breath. His eyes glowed at her, each word hitting her as if it was written on her very soul. “You forgiven.”

She wanted to look away, but couldn’t, caught up in the light of his eyes, drawn to them like a moth to a flame.

“Ya can’t know that yet, sugah,” Rogue tried to disagree, shy and uncertain smile creeping up her lips, gone the moment Remy pressed his hands harder against her back, making her yelp as he continued to stare down her whole being through her widely opened eyes.

“I know,” Remy said firmly, his tone unacceptable of any disagreement. “Dat may be de only thing Remy absolutely sure ‘bout, Rogue. No matter what you think you done or said, you are forgiven. Der’s nothing in this heart,” Rogue blinked in surprise, watching as he pulled her arm down from his shoulder to snatch her gloved hand and place it on his chest, “but love for you.”

Rogue thought she was going to die right there and then. Her own heart would stop beating just for the fastened but steady rhythm of his to be heard louder. The whole universe might have lost its light because it all was trapped in two fiery rings of red she stared into.

Nothing, but love for you.

Right before tears started running down her face, she turned away, hiding in his shoulder again, dampening the fabric of his shirt with salty water. Her fingers clenched to his chest, his hand still covering hers, trying to memorize the feeling, the thumping of his heart, the sound of his breathing.

Remy was leaving, Rogue knew, and the knowledge was burning her away, slowly and painfully, deep ache in her mixing with the worst feelings of all - hope. She couldn’t bring herself to not believe him. She couldn’t bring herself to ask him to stay, because she knew he would. He would follow her in the depths of Hell, this loyal, stupid, selfless Cajun she loved so much, he already did, and if she asked him to stay, he would.

She couldn’t do that to him. Not again.

You ain’t leaving me. I’m just letting you go.

Rogue sobbed in his shoulder, Remy’s voice whispering something soothing above her ear, as he gently rocked her back and forth, both of them still wrapped in a tight embrace.

“Take all the time you need, Remy,” she rasped, tears making her voice quiver, “and then come back to us. To me. Ah’ll wait for you, even if it takes a whole eternity.”

She felt him press his mouth against her hair.

“Je te promets que je reviendrai,” Remy whispered, and Rogue gave up to another sob making her shudder in his arms.

When the evening came, the team gathered at the front doors, ready to say to Remy their goodbyes. Or, mostly ready.

“C’mon, petite,” Remy drawled, patting Jubilee’s back affectionately as she all but dramatically wailed into his chest. “You can always call Remy while he be on his little trip.”

“Yeah,” she sniffed, her eyes glowing like she was a cartoon character from TV-shows, “but still!”

“Jubes, you’re messing his clothes up,” Roberto commented, pulling his girlfriend away from Remy, latter giving him a nod with a grateful smile. Sunspot mirrored the nod, a bit less confident, and smiled back.

Cyclops walked up to him next, raising his hand for a shake, Remy catching it immediately.

“You call and we come,” Scott told him in a firm voice that Remy recognized as his ‘leader-voice’ and smiled at the thought, squeezing his friend’s hand a bit harder, “No question asked.”

“Merci, mon ami,” Remy nodded to him. Both Jean and Storm watched him worryingly, and Remy smiled at them, trying to lighten the mood. Ororo curled the corners of her lips up in return. Remy wondered if they were remembering how they found him, the images still smothered and blurred in his head, simple knowledge supporting him instead of memories.

“D’accord, mesdames,” he said, catching both women in a double hug and giving each of them a smooch on the cheek. “Keep dese hommes in check, would’ya?”

“Always do, Remy,” Jean answered softly, a smile finally blooming up on her lips as she kissed him on the cheek in return, a gesture so full of care Remy wondered if she was actually his long-lost sister who got stolen from New Orleans when they were just barely kids. Same went for Ororo, but in this case there was no doubt, she must’ve been his sister from another life.

“Take care, brother,” Storm patted his shoulder as he pulled away, smiling at him. Remy shot a short glance to those who stayed aside. Forge and Bishop watched the whole scene with soft smiles of their own. Remy didn’t mind. He simply gave them another nod, his eyes lingering on Forge for a long second, before he turned away to the others.

Wolverine and Morph both already told him their goodbyes (Morph even changed into Colossus to give him a giant hug, so tight Remy thought they were going to break his ribs), and were talking about something right at the doors. Same went for Beast and Xavier, both smiling at Remy with relaxed, calm expressions. He nodded to them as well, catching a glimpse of tears in Hank’s eyes just a second before the doctor raised his enormous paw to wipe them away, so gentle it almost looked comical. Watching him made Remy think of another blue-furred friend who he actually didn’t have a chance to talk or meet ever since he woke up. Kurt Wagner was on a mission, due to come back just days after Remy was planning to leave. He wanted to talk to him, wanted to ask about those images of red skies and smell of burning flesh he started to feel in his dreams, but backing down on his decision now seemed like running. And Remy was not going to run.

Snapping back to reality from his memories, Remy looked up at the last person in the room, waiting patiently for him with his bag and backpack in her hands. They didn’t say a word as he came up to her, Rogue helping him swing both bags to place them on his back and across his torso - he was going to put this one on the bike behind him anyway. Then, still silent, they looked each other in the eyes for a long second. Remy opened his arms, a smirk on his lips, and Rogue moved without hesitation, wrapping her arms around him in a hug.

“Ya call or write or send some stupid postcard every day, Swamp Rat,” Rogue told him, her voice firm, “48 hours without contact and Ah’m sending Logan after’ya, he finds you, brings you back so Ah can beat yer ass.”

Remy chuckled, his chest and head unexpectedly light.

“Don’t threaten a man with a good time, chère,” he muttered just loud enough for others to hear and chuckle or huff at his reply. Rogue pulled away, giving him one last overall look, checking if he had everything, and gave him another smile, a bit annoyed, a bit mischievous. Remy only smirked back, letting her take another step away from him, even though he felt part of him follow her.

It took him another moment and a deep breath to turn back to the others. His heart was being pulled in all directions, lost like a small boat in a storm, yet Remy knew he had to leave. His head was full of voices and someone’s presence, his powers were barely controllable. Until he figured himself out, he was no good for the team, no good for those people he knew were his family. He had to do it for them. Had to do it for her. Had to do it for himself.

“Well,” Remy smiled, his hand moving up on its own accord. He didn’t even catch the moment he folded his palm in a two-fingered salute, his whole attention focused on taking the first step outside waiting for him. “Au revoir, mes amis.”

A choir of goodbyes answered him, and Remy swallowed the lump in his throat, a familiar cold sensation creeping up his spine as he placed his hand on the doorknob and opened the door into the chill night. His bike was right at the end of the stairs, Logan'd taken care of it being in good shape. Remy walked down, feeling how shadows embraced him, rustle of leaves on trees whispering something.

He didn’t look back even once, knowing too well if he did, he’d see those green eyes with a glimpse of hazel that welcomed him after a long, torturous nightmare he existed in, and never leave.

Remy was going to fight whatever Death had for him, its touch present in his every thought. No running, no hiding.

The motorcycle roared to life beneath him, the vibration of it shaking his whole being, reminding him that his heart was beating, no matter how much the scar under his ribs tried to prove him wrong. His powers stung him from inside, and Remy gulped, keeping his focus, not allowing them speed up even more, forcing them to abate instead.

He had finally decided where he needed to go. It was the only place that made sense. Where it all began and ended, where he was born and buried. New Orleans waited for him.

Remy squinted his eyes on the backpack he had tucked behind his back, knowing full well there was a brown coat in it, along with a dozen of card decks he wasn’t able to leave behind, even if he couldn’t remember why. He took another deep breath. Pulled the clutch with his left hand. Moved the throttle, listening to the engine roaring in reply. Finally opened his eyes, shining as two bright red embers in the darkness surrounding Xavier’s Mansion.

And then, he disappeared into the night.