Secrets Shared

Rogue didn't know why she was telling him these deeply personal things; she had never even told her friends. Perhaps that was the reason right there – she didn't want the other X-Men, the people she had come to see almost as a family, to know what was really going on in her head. She had to see them every day. The thought of them knowing the truth, and then having to deal with their looks of pity – or worse: their judgmental gazes – made her stomach twist and churn.

None of them would be able to relate anyway. None of them except maybe Logan, but she was nervous to the point of scared to open up to him. It was no secret that all the X-Men knew that she'd sent a statue of her own step-mother swan diving off a cliff. That was bad enough as it was. Maybe it was spineless, but if she never told anyone about it, then she could never confirm that they thought less of her for it.

The truth was, she was sorry to have done it. But she wasn't sorry that it had been Mystique.

"You're too hard on y'self chère," Gambit's patient voice entered her thoughts. She leveled her gaze on his. When they bumped into each other at a grocery store of all places, the last thing she imagined would happen was ending up at his place to pour her heart out. Rogue had been justifiably guarded, but the chance to get her jumbled, twisted feelings off her chest outweighed her misgivings. And really, there was no one better.

They were still very much strangers, and in the months following Apocalypse's defeat, the lines between friend and foe had blurred. It wasn't like they were really enemies anymore, and with his contract for Magneto up, he was bound to have plans to move on soon. She would probably never see the man after he finally skipped town, and that meant she wouldn't have to face him ever again. Was it cowardly? Yes. Did she care? No.

"Am I though?" she finally countered. "I proved that I'm capable of murder, Gambit. It doesn't matter that the statue I pushed off that cliff wasn't actually Mystique. Fact is, I thought it was. And I still pushed her – it," she corrected with a scowl, "– off the edge all the same."

She dropped her gaze to the kitchen table. Her hands were balled into fists on the tabletop and she scrutinized her gloves, too... guilty? Ashamed? To look the man across from her in the eye.

"Say dat statue really had been Mystique, den. D'you really believe dat witch didn't have it comin'? You as good as admitted dat she's been manipulatin' you from day one. Even b'sides dat, she's done t'ings. Bad t'ings. She's not a good person, Rogue. M'not convinced she even knows how to be anymore," he spoke frankly, to which she could only shake her head.

"That doesn't matter. I have no right to be the judge or jury. I don't get to decide whether or not she deserves to die because of who she is or what she's done. That's not right."

She blinked when her adamant words produced a triumphant smirk from the handsome scoundrel's face.

"And de fact dat you believe dat so firmly still says sometin' about you, non?"

She opened her mouth to argue only to realize he maybe had a point.

"I... I guess," she reluctantly conceded.

"What's done is done. It happened, y'can't change dat. But the witch ain't dead, and if nothin' else, you can at least look at dis as a second chance. Most people aren't lucky enough to get one o' dem." She had a funny feeling from his somber tones that he wasn't entirely just talking about herself anymore.

They fell into a comfortable silence as Rogue mulled over his words. Again, he had a point. There was no use in fretting over what she'd done, what she was or wasn't capable of doing. Fact was, she hadn't murdered someone after all, though the consequences would be something she'd probably have to live with forever. At least she could take that and forge it into an iron-clad resolve. She knew almost without a doubt that she would never lose control of herself like that again. The aftermath was just too unbearable.

Taking in a great lungful of air, Rogue let out a slow and easy sigh. Their whole chance meeting and subsequent chat felt so mundane, so normal, that Rogue realized it was just what she had needed. Never mind the weirdness of spending half the day just talking to her former enemy at his kitchen table. Sure it'd been awkward and surreal at first, but it quickly felt natural enough. Perhaps it was the fact that his modest studio apartment felt more like a place to sleep at night rather than an actual home that made her feel a bit more like she was standing on an even playing field. They weren't meeting on his turf, but on neutral ground. The place looked about as lived-in as a hotel room with only a dartboard on the living room wall – with holes only in the bull's eye – to give the place character.

Maybe it was silly, but it had helped ease her into starting her confessions. And once she started, she found that she couldn't stop. Rogue had never opened up to anyone like this before, but damn if it wasn't cathartic. And to Gambit's credit, he had been the perfect gentleman and makeshift shrink.

The hours had fallen away as if they'd been nothing, and in what felt like no time, the warm orange light of sunset had begun to bleed through his kitchen windows. Never did Gambit seem to get bored, tired, or exasperated with her hours-long company, and Rogue couldn't have been more grateful.

Staring out his kitchen window, a stray thought popped into her head.

"I think... I think I'd like to travel," Rogue said out of the blue.

"Oh?"

"Yeah. Take some time off from livin' at the mansion. Sort through the stuff in my head. Get myself straightened out," she explained. Find herself. Come to terms with what she'd done, who she'd been, who she could be. Gambit nodded thoughtfully.

"Where would you go?"

She shrugged.

"I dunno, Europe maybe. I've got a coupla Germans and a Russian floatin' around in my head. Wouldn't be too hard to get around." She smirked. "Bit of a French guy, too."

"Sounds like it could do you some real good," Gambit returned with a smirk of his own.

"Thank you for listenin'," she finally said. "I know that... well, given everythin' that's happened, you didn't have to listen to my problems. It... it means a lot. I really appreciate it."

He waved her thanks aside as she stood and stretched, preparing to leave.

"Always had a soft spot for a damsel in distress. Lendin' an ear was no trouble at all. Hope y'feel better, chère."

"Y'know, I do actually. I feel... I think I feel better than better," she realized once she actually paused to think about it. "It's like this suffocatin' weight finally let offa me." Wow. How had she not noticed earlier? The crippling burden of guilt and self-judgment had been lifted. It wasn't entirely gone, but the difference was staggering. She felt like she could finally breathe again, like the walls around her had receded and she could finally see the world begin to open up for her again. At least for that moment, everything didn't seem so dark anymore.

A slow smile crept onto her face as she glanced back up at Gambit. From their almost startlingly candid conversation, she had a feeling the man with the devil's eyes was plagued by similar demons that stalked her. But based on all that had been said and gone unsaid between them, she also had the impression that Gambit had at least made peace with his demons. And if he could do it, so could she.

"Heh, it's such a huge relief I could kiss ya," she joked. He raised a brow at that.

"Never been one t'turn down a kiss from a pretty lady," he intoned, his trademark crooked grin sliding onto his features.

She rolled her eyes and shook her head, a small smirk tugging at the corners of her mouth.

"Of course ya wouldn't."

He rose and suddenly the gap between them was closed. She felt that if she had blinked, she would've missed his one fluid motion.

"What'd'ya think you're doin'? I was kiddin' when I said I could kiss you."

He clutched his chest in mock pain.

"Aw, really chère? Y'shouldn' say t'ings like dat if y'not willin' t'follow through wit' dem."

She huffed at him before rolling her eyes again and trying to push him away, only to have her wrists captured in his firm yet surprisingly gentle grip. She gave him an exasperated look.

"It's like you want me to lay ya flat," she grumbled.

"It'd be worth it."

She glared up at him.

"C'mon Rogue, jus' one?"

He looked so innocent and unassuming in his request that her expression softened as she lowered her gaze from his. She studied the rest of his features, starting from his untamed hair, past his well-defined brow, down his angular nose, across his barely parted lips, and finally ending at his chiseled jaw. Movement grabbed her attention and her eyes fixed on his mouth in time to catch him lick his lips.

She opened her mouth to speak, but the words escaped her under his intense gaze. Slowly, a lean arm wrapped around her waist, his fingers splaying against the small of her back. He gently pressed her against the kitchen wall and leaned in.

The faster her heart beat, the more time seemed to slow. She felt his free hand coming up to tilt her chin upward, watched the gradual tilting of his head, could feel the heat rising in her cheeks, closed her eyes, he came closer, closer, and just as they were about to kiss . . . she found her voice.

"Wait."

He froze, his lips mere millimeters from hers, and his gaze lifted from her mouth to meet her eyes. His bare fingers hovered just under her chin.

She could feel his warm breath on her skin, and it sent strange tingling sensations racing down her body. Rogue watched his chest steadily rise and fall, noting for the first time how little his maroon wife-beater really left to the imagination. She could almost see the smooth expanse of muscle underneath, and for one traitorous moment she wished she could have seen him without his top on.

"Yes, chère?" he breathed, and she blinked, bringing his patiently expectant features back into focus. After belatedly realizing that she had been doing an awful lot of staring and not a whole lot of talking, she cleared her throat distractedly. Rogue wanted to shake herself as she tried to make her treasonous body get a grip on itself. Her cheeks were flushed, her heart was fluttering, and she was breathing harder than was strictly necessary.

Swallowing, she looked back up at him, and an involuntary shiver crept through her as she stared into his smoldering gaze. If he was bothered by being kept in suspense, there wasn't a trace of evidence to be found in his face. No, what she saw was quite to the contrary. He looked like he was fully aware of the effect his proximity was having on her, and was thoroughly enjoying it.

He watched her throat as she swallowed, gazed at her blushing cheeks, watched with subtle traces of satisfaction as her eyes took him in.

"So how long y'plan on havin' me wait?" he murmured. Rogue mentally kicked herself. She couldn't believe she'd just done it again. As if reading her mind, a small smirk snaked its way onto his face, but he still stood obediently frozen, neither moving away nor coming any closer. She had to hand it to him – she didn't figure him for the type to have so much restraint.

"If uh, if I'm really gonna let you kiss me, it should probably happen over the bed. Unless, y'know, you don't mind wakin' up on the floor after probably hittin' ya head on the way down."

He gave her his crooked smile.

"Lead de way."

Taking his hand in hers, she nervously drew him up alongside his bed. He seemed amused as she crawled onto the mattress, but said nothing as he took his spot beside her.

Gazing back at him, she placed an unsure hand on his shoulder and drew in closer. That was all the invitation he needed.

A gasp escaped from her as she found his arm once again around her while his free hand came up and ran through her hair. He pulled her in.

In the moment before his lips met hers, she stiffened as reason finally came back to her. What had she just gotten herself into? What was she thinking, sitting there on his bed, wrapped up in him – Gambit, notorious thief and player – and here she was, abandoning all sense, practically offering herself up to this licentious, promiscuous, morally ambiguous man and – his lips pressed against hers, his arms held her close, and he captured her in a surprisingly chaste kiss.

A flood of foreign emotions hit her the moment their lips touched. She knew he could tell she was still stiff against him, and guessed that was why the hand on her back began to trace soothing circles along her spine. Her muscles eased up despite herself, and she relaxed into him, snaking her arms around his shoulders.

As the warmth from his body pervaded her senses, she waited for him to do something to stain their innocent kiss. But as he let her powers draw more of himself into her, she knew she had misjudged his intent. He'd had no expectation of getting anything from her when she'd made that silly joke. But when she didn't outright turn him down, it turned out that all Gambit had really been after, after all, was just the chance to steal a kiss from the beautifully guarded Rogue.

Gambit awoke the next day in a daze, but with the memories of his last few moments of consciousness still very much intact.

A lazy grin settled upon his lips.

The last thing he remembered was a pair of shining red-on-black eyes gazing back at him as he fell through a haze, and then darkness enveloped him.

He had been right; that kiss was completely worth it.

Word Count: 2474
Start Date: 9/12/14
Finish Date: 5/20/15

Guh, finally finished this darned thing. I felt like I needed to before I could upload anything else, as this is the very first fanfic I've ever written. I may turn this into a chaptered story at a later date too, since there are some specific ideas I want to explore between them, but for now it'll remain a oneshot. Please let me know what you think!

Ah, also forgot to mention if anyone's curious. The cover image is art I drew when I was inspired by the oneshot scene. If you'd like to see the proper resolution, you can find it in my DA gallery under the same name. c: