A/N: This takes place directly after Day of Reckoning. Up until then, nothing's changed except that Fred was not taken in the Sentinel attack. Anything else goes so enjoy!

Rated for language and perhaps some sexual content.

She didn't know how long she'd been there, naked and exposed, huddled in the corner of a five by five cell. It could have been a few hours or a few days. But it felt like a millennia.

The cold had numbed her, the screaming had deafened her, and the only thing she felt was pain. Unbelievable, unspeakable pain. Physical pain at the experiments those bastard scientists had put her through. And worse kinds of pain. The pain of being helpless, the pain of racking up obnoxious psyches (human and mutant, friend and foe) in her head, and the pain of betrayal.

She shivered. That one hurt the most.

They left her. They left her! Kitty, Kurt, Storm, Jean, the Professor… they all just left her to the devices of Trask and his men. It would have been so easy to save her, to save them all. Kitty could have phased them out, Kurt could have teleported them all to safety, but they just left. And the bitterness and depression of that thought brought more tears to her eyes.

With her knees pulled to her chest and her arms covering what they could, Rogue sobbed, letting out a howl of anguish that nearly matched the one Wolverine was emitting. Nearly.

She didn't dare look up. The experiments on Logan were always the most painful because he could bounce back from it. And those motherfuckers knew it. They'd torn off his skin to study the adamantium beneath, they'd tortured him with three of the five main torture groups (blunt, cold, and sharp) to see how quickly he could heal, and now they were moving on to hot. Hot pokers, hot coals, blowtorches, and electrical wires in water.

Rogue didn't need to look up to see it. She could hear the sizzling and smell the putrid stench of melting flesh. And she prayed, to whatever god that was listening, that it would all end. That Armageddon would come and they could all just die because nothing could be worse than this. Nothing.

But then the screaming stopped and with it so did Rogue's heart. It was strange to hear the quiet. Strange and terrifying because it meant one thing. They were done with Logan and were moving on to the next victim (or subject, as the men in white coats were prone to call them).

They dumped Logan's body in the cell next to hers and the loud thump that sounded nearly made her jump. But not so much as when they began to enter the code to open her cell.

She whimpered uncontrollably and pushed herself as far back in the corner as she could get. She didn't bother trying to plan an escape. She'd done that once before and the punishment she received was more than enough to deter her from attempting it again. Besides, they knew of her mutation and wore biohazard suites as a precaution. The curse she'd for once welcome could do nothing for her now.

So instead she waited for the inevitable. Her eyes were wide with fear and hate, but, despite her tears, she clenched her jaw in determination. She wouldn't scream. They could cut her down, they could make her cry, but she'd never scream. She wouldn't say a word. Not a damn thing. It was the only victory she could take.

But instead of the terrifying sound of the bulletproof glass doors opening, she heard a loud BOOM as an explosion knocked all of those sons of bitches off their feet. And then the most unlikely of saviors rushed into sight.

It wasn't the X-Men or the Brotherhood. No, it was the Acolytes. The Acolytes! Rogue couldn't help it. Even as she sobbed in relief at the prospect of being saved, a bitter laugh escaped her lips at the irony. The moment didn't last long, however, because before she knew it, the fire-crazed one was torching the place and the giant tin can was knocking down the security force that had immediately lept into action. And as if that weren't enough, Magneto had turned the soldiers' own weapons against them.

She vaguely wondered where the card thrower was, but that question was quickly answered as her door opened and in walked the sexiest man she'd ever seen. Even in these dire conditions she couldn't deny that. She also couldn't keep herself from feeling hideous in comparison. It was such a vain, stereotypically teenager thing to do, but Rogue felt undeniably self-conscious and ashamed. Not only was she lying in a cell, naked, but the recent bruises and wounds that adorned her body no doubt made her look like a black and blue nightmare. Tears, once again, sprang to her eyes and she silently cursed herself for being so weak. He probably thought her a foolish little girl who didn't even have enough sense to run through the open door to freedom.

But that wasn't it. That wasn't it at all. She couldn't move, damnit. No matter how much she wanted to. Because she hadn't eaten in days, she'd lost more than a couple pints of blood, and the experiments they ran on her had left her little more than an invalid. It was humiliating.

So lost in her own thoughts was Rogue that she didn't notice the Cajun charmer walk up to her until he gently draped his trench coat around her bare body. She jerked her eyes upwards to meet his own and was surprised by the compassion and sorrow she saw in those onyx and red orbs.

"Mon Dieu, cherie, qu'ont-ils vous fait?"

"Everything," came her choked response.

Without another word, Gambit adjusted the trench coat on her and carefully swept her up in his arms.

Rogue tensed at first and made to protest, but then realized that not only was he fully clothed, but if he had put her down she probably would have collapsed. So, for once, the loner Goth ignored her instincts and instead took shelter in his more than capable arms.

When they stepped out of the cell, Rogue was comforted by the fact that the scientists who'd held her captive, who'd performed monstrous atrocities against her and those like her, were sprawled out on the ground, either dead or seriously injured. She knew she should have cared, shouldn't have wanted to see them dead. She could hear the Professor's voice in her head, telling her that it was never okay to wish such things upon our fellow man. But Rogue didn't give a damn.

They'd hurt Evan, hurt Beast, hurt Logan. Hurt her. And she wanted them to suffer. It was a burning rage the likes of which she'd never felt before. She could feel her breathing intensify, her chest heave up and down rapidly, her muscles tense.

And then she saw one of them move. When he lifted his head, Rogue instantly recognized him as the man who'd been personally in charge of removing her clothes. Fear swept through her quicker than she thought possible and all of a sudden the rage was replaced with cowering in the card thrower's arms.

Her savior must have noticed because he abruptly stopped walking and looked down at her, concern etched across his face.

"Le quel est, cherie?"

"That soldier," she rasped, "h-he…"

She couldn't finish. Couldn't say how he'd coped a feel while she was chained to a wall. How he'd not quite violated her with those latex covered hands, but had done enough that it had broken her in ways other forms of torture never could.

But she didn't have to. The card thrower must have understood because his eyes darkened and his whole body tensed, subconsciously pulling her closer. Without another word, he looked down at the fallen soldier who was struggling to stand and failing miserably and delivered a swift kick to his head.

Rogue heard a sharp snap as it collided with the metal wall and wondered if the blow had killed him or not. A part of her hoped it had.

"Gambit!" came the booming voice of the Master of Magnetism. "We must do it now!"

Nodding, her savior shifted her slightly in his arms, took out a few small cards, and charged them. Rogue watched with trepidation as he threw them into the room and then winced as she waited for the explosion.

When it didn't come, she looked up at him in confusion. The card thrower (Gambit, she told herself) smiled down at her as he once again shifted her so that she rested more comfortably against him.

"Gotta give us 'nough time t' escape, hein?"

She blinked up at him, surprised at his sudden turn from French to English, but didn't get a chance to respond as he began running past the fallen soldiers and fiery remains of the lab.

"Hurry up, mes amis. Trust Gambit, y' ain't gonna wanna be 'round when dis place goes boom."

Relief swelled in Rogue's chest when she caught a good look at the other Acolytes he had been talking to. Though Sabertooth was nowhere in sight (something Rogue was immensely glad for), she saw that the metal man was carefully carrying Beast and Evan out with him and Magneto had Logan's slowly healing form suspended a few feet in front of him.

Together, with the pyromaniac lighting the way, the eight made their way out of the base just as the whole thing exploded.

Releasing a breath she hadn't known she'd been holding, Rogue finally allowed herself to fully relax in Gambit's arms. And as the familiar metal orbs approached her, she tried to fight the sudden urge to sleep and the drooping feeling of her heavy eyelids.

"Let it go, cherie, no doubt y' ain't slept since y' got here a few days back. Gambit won't let nothin' happen t' de Rogue. Y' got his word on dat."

Despite her better judgment, despite all of the suspicion she felt, Rogue couldn't deny that somewhere inside, she knew he'd keep his promise. So as Gambit gently climbed into the orb, being careful so as not to hurt her further, she finally let her eyelids flutter shut and sleep claim her.

A/N: So, clearly, this is a dark fic. But don't worry, they'll be lots of light and fluffy moments for all your Romy lovers out there.

I appreciate all comments and reviews. I know there are a couple of stories where the Acolytes rescue Rogue instead of the X-Men, but hopefully this one will be different enough to catch your attention. I promise I've got a few twists and surprises in here that I haven't read anywhere else.

Mon Dieu, cherie, qu'ont-ils vous fait: My God, dear, what have they done to you?

Le quel est, cherie: What is it, dear?