How Rogue had ended up in Louisiana was a complete and catastrophic mistake…

It was all planned out! She had packed everything she needed away in her backpack, unfortunately, that was the problem: She had packed everything in that damn backpack. That damn backpack which she had lost escaping from freight-yard security.

Yeah.

The train ride, save nearly getting crushed by an unsecured crate once when the train hit a bumpy rail, had been going exactly as she planned. No one had caught her sneaking onto the train, and when security came around to check the freights, she'd been ready for it with her camouflaging black clothing. She had even managed to slide a few things around so that she could easily lie back on the floor and wait for the next destination. The only element she couldn't control was her fatigue. Despite her energy for getting down south again and home, being awake from 6:30 on was taking its toll on the stow-away mutant. She fought with all her power to stay awake, it was 3:23 AM and the train would be stopping in New Orleans for a small pick-up at 4 (she knew that from overhearing the conductor order the freight-loaders to leave space for a few extra items) before continuing on to Mississippi.

The fact that the wind outside whooshing through the cracks in the freight train door was such a soothing sound didn't help to keep Rogue awake. Neither did the thermal black trench coat she was wearing. And the extra clothes she had packed in her backpack made the bag a comfortable pillow.

Rogue did everything she could to stay awake. By the time it was 3:24, one minute after she had checked her watch, she had given up trying to keep herself awake by sitting straight up against the wall and moved on to listing all of her pet peeves, hoping that she could make herself angry enough to work up some spare energy. The first pet peeve listed was a given.

One: Being at the X-Mansion ahn the holidays.

Two: The cold.

Three: When Kitty wahnts to stay up all naight after some ROMANTIC date with Lance.

Fo'r: Having to share danger room sessions with Scott and Miss Perfect Jean.

Faive: When Kurt ports raight in mah face.

Six: Gambit.

Seven: Gambit's accent.

Eight: Gambit's cocky smahle.

Nine: The fact that he doesn't give a rip ah'bout what people think.

Ten: The fact that he won't give meh a moment's peace when Ah'm ticked off.

Eleven: Even when Ah tell him to leave meh ahlone, he doesn't.

Twelve: When Ah wahs sick, he came and ah'nnoyed meh.

That sick day. That damn sick day!! He just slipped into her room like it was no big deal. What even possessed him to make him think it was okay to just break into the X-mansion, let alone her room, and just hang around like there really WEREN'T people inside who would love to play target practice with his Cajun ass? Mr. McCoy even caught him and he treated it like it was no big deal and wanted nothing more than to just restart their interrupted card game.

That damn sick day.

That day.

That-

…And it was through all of that fuming and thinking Rogue had actually managed to tire herself out even more and fall asleep.

Unfortunately for Rogue, her carefully planned trip had taken severe bend. At 4:03 AM the very freight holding Rogue was opened up to load the extra cargo from Louisiana and the unsuspecting mutant jumped and alerted the loaders of her illegal presence.

The whole story from there was a mess. Rogue "gracefully" scrambled out from behind a crate but in her shock completely forgot her bag on the floor. Getting away from the guards was no easy task either- they chased her through the train yard, and then for another 5 blocks through New Orleans. (It would have been four if she hadn't accidentally stepped on some feral cat wondering around that same alley she'd taken refuge in and made it yowl.) After what seemed like an hour of playing cat and mouse, the workers gave up and the stow-away was free. Free to think about what the hell she was going to do in New Orleans.

After wandering aimlessly down the streets Rogue had already had enough of "The Big Easy" and was wishing she had a warm place to sleep. There's this old saying that talks about being up a creek without a paddle, right? That was Rogue. The money for the motel she planned to stay at was in her backpack, the mutant had but ten dollars in her pocket. The out of place mutant spent her night walking in light of the city aimlessly.

By the time it was ten in the morning Rogue felt more like a zombie. She'd spent the night trying to figure out what she was going to do. All she could think to do was call the X-Mansion. She was hosed. She had no money and no way of getting any. It was Christmas Eve and Rouge was in Louisiana, she was cold, hungry, and wanted nothing more than a cozy place to lie down and crash. As a last resort to stay awake before surrendering and calling the mansion, Rogue tromped into a drug store to buy something to wake her up. That's when she ran into HIM.

Remy Lebeau had always had been a secret object of Rogue's fascination. Not in the good way. She'd learned how to anticipate his every move so that she could figure out a comeback. So when Gambit appeared sick as a dog on that "fateful" morning without so much of a wink of the eye Rouge knew something was wrong. She had watched him stunned as he made his way out of the store and down the road (probably home) trying to figure out what parallel universe she had walked into.

That's when the idea came to her. Gambit was sick and needed some one to take care of him. Rogue was trapped down in New Orleans without a place to stay. Bingo.

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Gambit woke up to the sound of footsteps in the kitchen, he shot upright in his chair and grabbed the pill bottle off of the table and charged it.

"Relax," a some-what familiar voice said from behind him.

He promptly obeyed releasing his kinetic charge on the pill bottle. Part of him obeyed because he was half asleep, another part was because he was drugged up on cold medicine, and the last part just didn't want to lose the medicine and have to get more.

"Come ahn," Rogue said slipping an arm around his waist and then slinging Gambit's arm over her shoulder. He was heavy, and limp like a rag doll, but some how she managed to make him stand up with him leaning on her and more importantly, without risking any skin to skin contact. She doubted she could get him upstairs unconscious, in fact, she doubted she could even get him to the couch in the next room, let alone up the stairs.

Taking a moment to consider what her best option was, the couch or the bedroom up the stairs, she pulled the Cajun's arm tighter over her shoulder trying to find an easier position to support him. Rogue needed a place to stay, and Gambit needed some to help look after his sorry-sick-ass. If Rogue hadn't shown up when she did, he most likely would have fallen out of his chair and ended up with a concussion.

They stumbled up the stairs together. Gambit's head swam trying to figure out what was going on. He knew he just got back from the drug store, he thought he might have seen Rogue there too, but he was completely positive he was that he was sleep walking now. He felt completely limp and weak; Gambit could barely move his limbs farther than a baby step at a time. If some one had dangled a gold coin in front of his face and told him to take it, Remy doubted he could even reach his hand up to snatch it. His eyes kept fluttering open, but he couldn't keep them open for more than 10 seconds at a time. He could feel the sleep medicine trying to run its course, and he stumbled nearly making Rogue fall forward. Rogue's hand slipped down to Gambit's back end in the process. She quickly snatched her hand back, but the mistake didn't go unnoticed.

Gambit was positive, this was a dream.

But merde, that hand sure felt real.

The two-some stumbled and swayed from side to side trying to get up the stairs. The dream Rogue seemed to pause momentarily trying to figure out what door was to the bedroom. Gambit being the helpful gentleman he was made a slight directional move to tug Rogue to the right and she took it as a hint to choose the door on the right. The doorknob was a trick, it was old and the dream girl seemed to fumble with it clumsily to get it opened, Gambit reached over, tugged the doorknob out towards him and twisted- voila. He could hear and exasperated sigh of annoyance as dream Rogue pushed the door open and walked Gambit to his bed. She threw him off of her and he landed with and "OOF!" on his soft bed sitting up.

The two of them seemed to pause, both looking at his muddy shoes. Rogue was not a nanny and she was not about to bend down and pull his shoes off of his feet but still some one needed to. The drugged up mutant seemed to sense her disdain for task and lazily bent down and untied his own shoes. The dream girl stood there awkwardly watching him, when he finished, she stiffened up and looked him square in the face. It was like a rare moment of understanding between them, two enemie helping each other out on the holidays.

"Care to join me?" Gambit said in a husky voice with a cocky smirk on his face.

Or not.

She really hated him.

Too bad he was her only chance at a warm place to stay.

Resisting the urge to give him a hard shove so that he rolled off the other side of his bed (because in his drugged up state, she was sure she could do that) she turned toe and walked out of the room headed for the kitchen.

They both needed something to warm up.

Ahem… sorry.. it's been a while. .;;

I'm trying to upload this darn story but it's been a while so publishing has sort of changed since.. –cough- last time.