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Boots hit the ground as if gravity were bringing them back down with each step. They sunk into the mud and the muck there, pulling and dragging her down with every step forward until she found herself struggling. She couldn't fly. Couldn't break free. Couldn't reach him.
Ahead, just out of reach, lay a familiar form. He was bent at an awkward angle, blood soaking the strangely solid ground that he'd been afforded, and she gave a struggling cry as she put all of her incredible strength into springing forward. His name echoed from her lips, desperate against the emptiness that surrounded them. It was futile. Somehow she already knew it.
He was gone and she couldn't save him.
But she had to try. This time it had to be different.
Rogue didn't break free of the muck around her ankles, but she did manage to haul herself forward until she reached the place where Remy lay. Her fingers - gloveless and covered in blood - found his and she collapsed next to him. He had always run warm, even if she couldn't touch him without a barrier between them, but he was cold to the touch.
"Remy," she choked, her vision blurring until she squeezed her eyes closed and let the tears escape. "Ah'm sorry, sugar. Ah'm so sorry."
She felt it before she saw it: a shift. Green eyes blinked open and found glowing red eyes staring up at her without any kindness or love that she'd come to know from the man who held her heart. Instead, his skin had darkened, auburn hair shifting to stark white, and Rogue barely had time to register it as a gloved hand reached up to her throat -
The scream didn't escape her lips as she sat straight up and immediately doubled over in her own bed. Rogue's breaths came in shallow, struggling gulps as she wrapped her fingers deeply into the sheets and real tears streamed down her face. She folded the rest of the way forward to bury her face in the mattress as a half sob, half scream left her. It sounded loud enough to her own ears that she half expected the mansion to go on high alert and ready for a fight, but no one seemed to stir. At least for that moment, she was alone in the overwhelming turmoil.
She didn't have to be.
The thought stirred in her, a warmth and sinking feeling warring with each other to take hold. They continued as she rolled off the bed, bare feet hitting the carpet beneath, and she grabbed for an oversized sweater and her gloves. Her movements were automatic, and she didn't think that she'd specifically chosen to leave her room as she did. She needed to. She didn't feel like there was much choice in it at all.
The hallways between her room and seemed longer than they used to be. Granted, this wasn't the room he'd called his own before. That one had been destroyed by the fire that had engulfed the mansion while he'd been… away. She didn't dare admit even to herself the word - the reality - that she'd lived on Genosha while cradling his body. Not after the latest nightmare.
Rogue stopped just shy of tapping her knuckles against the scarred wood. This was foolish. Selfish. It had been a nightmare. Based in reality, sure, but a nightmare nevertheless. Yes, he'd died before she'd even made it to him. Yes, Apocalypse had used all the pain and anguish of the massacre to his own means to raise his Four Horsemen. And yes, Gambit had become Death himself. But he'd also come back to her. For her. Even when he hadn't recognized her, they'd fought for each other. He deserved a good night's sleep, even if she wouldn't find it herself that night. He'd struggled since coming home and she couldn't deny him that just to find a little peace in his presence.
That decided, Rogue pulled her sweater a little closer around her and shuffled off down the stairs and towards the kitchen.
She hadn't looked at a clock in her stupor, but she'd assumed it was morning. As she entered the kitchen, she saw she was right, if only by a couple of hours. Somehow, one in the morning felt a little early for coffee, despite the fact that she knew that she wasn't going back to sleep any time soon. Fair enough. Something a bit stronger and some fresh air worked just as well. Whiskey and glass in hand, Rogue made her way outside.
While the mansion had been quiet, the courtyard outside was peaceful, even if Rogue's mind didn't feel ready to settle into it just yet. Her bare feet stepped from stone to grass and she loosed a long breath, trying to let the stress release along with it as she moved along the back of the mansion to a bench under a select set of trees that…. was already taken. Great. Apparently she wasn't the only one looking for a middle-of-the-night-decompress spot in the middle of a student-filled school.
Rogue was about ready to find another nook on the campus when the figure on her bench shifted so that she had a better view of the silhouette of the man that had filled her dreams and nightmares alike. He sat alone - much like she had intended to - and she could see the soft glow of his eyes in the night as he turned. He must have seen her too, because she saw him stiffen a little and she tried for a smile that he may or may not have seen in the shadows of the garden. "Mind if Ah join ya, sugar?"
Remy offered a shrug and scooted over just a little to give her room to do as she pleased. As she drew closer she saw the bourbon that had been missing from the liquor cabinet sitting on his opposite side. She nodded towards it. "Woulda brought another glass if Ah'd known you're out here," she offered.
"Doin' alright as is," he murmured and took a swig straight from the bottle.
"That kinda night?"
"Looks that way."
She tried for a smile as she sat, even if it felt empty, and set her own bottle and glass next to her. A tense quiet settled into the space between them and she had to fight the images that her nightmare had pulled from their reality. This was Remy, not Death. They might have worn similar faces, but they were far from the same man. Everything he'd done while under Apocalypse's control was on the ancient Mutant, not on Gambit.
Movement to her left pulled her out of her thoughts and she saw Remy shrugging off his trenchcoat that he had draped over civilian clothes. Instead of his usual smooth motion of draping it over her shoulders in true southern gentleman fashion, he simply handed it to her, almost as if he were afraid to touch her. She stared at him for a moment and the corners of his lips twitched down. "Ya look cold, chére."
"Thanks," she managed, taking the jacket that she'd salvaged from Genosha from him and carefully slipping into it, desperately trying not to feel hurt by the fact that he hadn't draped it across her covered shoulders himself. It wouldn't have hurt him, not that he'd ever seemed to care too much about that. Only since he'd been back. Her Cajun had always played his cards close to the vest, but in the last handful of days since Beast had released him from Medical, he'd simultaneously acted like any touch would break her and him at the same time. Maybe he remembered more than he'd told Hank and the Professor after all.
He reached for his own bottle of bourbon. "So… what's got you up in the early hours?"
"Couldn't sleep," she answered, pouring her own glass. "You?"
"C'est pareil que toi," he murmured softly before seeming to realize he hadn't answered her in the language they shared. "Same as you."
A real smile finally tugged her lip and he shot her a questioning look that pulled a strange, yet equally real chuckle from her. "Missed hearin' ya speak French… even when Ah don' know whatcha mean by it half the time."
Slowly, he offered a shadow of an echo of her expression, even if the words seemed to die in his throat before they made it to his lips. He ducked his head and for a moment all she wanted to was to continue looking into his eyes. It was strange. As Death, they'd still been red-on-black as they'd always been, but so very, very cold. It had been like they'd stared straight through her. She could still remember the first time that he'd opened his eyes in Beast's care and looked at her. Even filled with fear and pain, they'd still been kinder than anything Death could have ever hoped to muster. They'd still taken her in like his entire world balanced on her. It had been the first moment that she'd dared to hope that she could have her Remy back.
Her hand slipped out from beneath the trenchcoat and touched his arm lightly. "Ya know you can tell me anythin', dontcha?"
"Sure," he answered softly, though none too convincingly.
"Ah mean it. Anythin'. Good, bad, somewhere in between. Heaven knows everythin's in the in between right about now."
A mirthless huff of a laugh escaped him. "Why you up, chére?"
"Ah said -"
"Sure ya did," he cut her off, those beautiful eyes of his shifting to her. "But you wanna ask me to share my soul an' you're busy hidin' yours."
Leave it to Remy to call her out. He'd always been a tad more gentle with it, but she expected she owed him a bit more after everything. After choosing Erik, after his death, and after standing against him as Death. She owed him the truth. She knew it. He knew it. They knew it. They'd put off airing this out as long as they could.
"Fair enough," she managed and took an extra long swig of her own drink. Damn Logan. She knew he was the one that had drained this particular bottle to near depletion. "Had a bad nightmare."
"What 'bout?"
"What'dya think, Remy?" She hadn't meant to snap, but thankfully he didn't look too put out by it.
Instead, he nodded and huffed. "Yeah."
"You too?"
"Oui."
Rogue took a moment, weighing her next words carefully. After a long moment she turned to look at him. "You wanna go first?"
That brought a startled look her direction. "I ain't lookin' to relive it, Rogue."
"You gonna honestly tell me this is the first night you've found yourself out here since you came home?" She sure as hell knew it wasn't hers.
"Home?" he echoed, his expression strained. "Funny thing… home didn' feel like every eye on me watchin' to see what I'm hidin'."
"Is that what you think Ah'm doin' out here?" Rogue managed, her chest tightening at the thought. As far as she knew, both she and Remy had found their own sleepless nights and managed to find their way to each other by chance or fate. It seemed as if he found a bit more nefarious reason behind her appearance.
"I don' know what anybody's doin' anymore, Rogue. I'm just…" He curled up into the seat, knees hugged up to his chest and arms around them as if he were making himself as small as he could possibly be. It broke her.
"Ah went to your door first, but Ah just didn' wanna wake ya. Figured ya needed your sleep and Ah'd fight my own demons out here."
"I did the same."
That pulled the barest of smiles from her, if only because it confirmed her original assumption. "Point is, Ah didn't come out here lookin' to spy on you. Just thought… if Ah could use the company, maybe you could too."
His red eyes remained fixed on something in the distance for a long moment before finally sliding around to look at her. "I don' 'member everythin'. Bits 'n pieces in fits 'n starts. Sometimes in dreams 'n sometimes sittin' 'n thinkin'. Outta nowhere I'm in a machine rippin' me apar an' puttin' me back together. Makin' me something… I don' wanna be."
For a fraction of a moment, Rogue felt like she was frozen where she was. They sat in silence after his confession before she let herself fall to her left, her shoulder against his, and her right arm crossing to hold to his sleeve. "That wasn't you."
"You sure? Felt like me."
"Sometimes people take our broken parts and make us something." She glanced up, barely catching his eyes over the edge of his shoulder. "Can Ah tell ya somethin'?"
"Anythin', chére."
"Ah ain't sorry he brought ya back. Sorry for how it happened, maybe, but not that it did. If it's the only way to get ya, Ah'll take it and everythin' it came with a million times over to not lose ya."
She couldn't breathe as she waited for his response, those expressive eyes of his focused on her in a curious sort of way. "All of it? Even what I did to you?"
"Ah mean, I'd rather not lose ya to begin with, but if that was the only way to get you back… Yeah. Ah'd do anythin' to keep from losing ya forever. Even drag ya back from the Pearly Gates myself, if that's what it came to."
He snorted, but didn't dare counter it. Smart man. Good man. After a long moment, he leaned in, his head resting against Rogue's. "What kinda nightmare's ya havin', chére?"
"The kind where you don' come back," she answered softly. Some nights, like this one, only Death returned. Some nights, not even that. "The kind where Ah don' get to say you were right."
"'Bout what?"
"That some things are deeper than skin." Her fingers tightened in the fabric of his t-shirt. "Ah love you and if it's taken my life to bring you back, Ah'd have given it."
He turned and pressed a kiss against her hair. "How 'bout we both do our best to stay alive a while longer, non?"
A smile touched her lips and she felt a warmth spread through her, her hair acting as a barrier between skin the only thing keeping him safe, but it was close enough that she felt all the emotion through it. She felt him, and for the first time since the attack on Genosha, she could breathe easy. So easy she felt herself nodding off against him.
He shifted and stood, hand outstretched to her. "C'mon. Let's get you to bed."
Reluctantly, she followed his lead, her gloved hand and his bare one intertwined as they moved back inside through the mansion and up towards her room. He paused outside, his gaze focused on her as if he were working up the courage to say goodnight, but she tipped up on her toes, palm against his lips and she pressed her own against the back of her hand. "Stay?" Dark brows drew together in question and she held his gaze. "Ah don' wanna wake up again wonderin' which is the nightmare."
A breath escaped him and he gave the barest of nods. She tightened her hold on his hand and pulled him into the room. He followed all the way to the bed and the fact that her flirty Cajun didn't offer her a one-liner worthy of an eye-roll told her that he felt the weight of what would likely be repeated nightmares if they dared to go their own ways that night. It was the first time that she'd pulled him into her bed and they curled carefully into each other as if they were the only two people in the world that could understand the other's pain. They were safe in each other's arms. A harbour to always come home to, and together, she was sure they could face anything.
End.