AN: It's been a long time, hasn't it? Sorry about updating, but life is life. This is just a quick little vignette to break through my writer's block. It has a companion piece/sequel, which you can find posted right after this one. This is more serious, and the other is a humor piece. Due to time constraints, I'm releasing this without a beta. Please let me know if you find errors.

AN2: Wish-I-Had-a-Tail brought it to my attention that this came dangerously close to being a Valentine's day fic, and I suppose my posting it today makes it official… grumblegrumble…

Edit for Disclaimer: Forgot this before, but you should know by now that I don't own much of anything. X-Men and all that jazz are among the many things I don't own.

Flower and a Card

Bayville lay sleeping, the first hints of another summer dawn still hours away. The moon was a mere sliver, waxing or waning. Not even the birds noticed a brown leather trench coat making its way up the ivy on the side of the Xavier Institute.

Remy LeBeau was up to no good, as usual.

With the practiced hands of a master thief he stole up the ivy, switching his gloved hands to the latticework whenever the thickest runners would not support his weight. A precious cargo lay nestled between his teeth: a single rose for his Cherie.

In a final gambit worthy of his namesake, Remy leapt from the ivy to catch hold of the nearby balcony. His fingers wrapped around the smooth marble, gripping fast where so many others' would have slipped. Never did the Prince of Thieves gamble beyond the reach of his abilities.

A few seconds, and Gambit had made his way over the railing to land silently outside Rogue's door. The lock lasted a full ten seconds; either she or Badger-man had upgraded it recently. No matter. It swung open with just the tiniest hint of a squeak, still well oiled from his last visit.

His Cherie was fast asleep, face-up, sheets kicked to the foot of her bed. Remy hoped the condition of her bedding was due to an attempt to stave off the summer swelter and not another bad dream. It was bad enough to have nightmares; worse still that they often weren't even her own. He'd overheard her calling out Henri's name one night, and had spent the next thirty or so hours sleepless, trying to devise some way to pull his memories out of her mind. That burden was never meant to be hers.

The rose found its way onto her nightstand, and Remy reached in his pocket to find the card he had taken to setting aside from all of his throwing decks: the Queen of Hearts. This he propped against the rose, facing it towards Rogue's bed so she could see it when she first woke. Remy knew about the drawer where she kept all of his cards; he had considered putting this card with the rest, but it was better that she thought he didn't know. She was easily embarrassed, and might take to throwing them away. After the roses wilted, those cards were all that remained of him.

Restraining, for now, the urge to leave her with a quick kiss, Gambit slipped out the way he had come, secured a grappling hook to the balcony, and rappelled down the side of the mansion. A few seconds later, the hook was pulled expertly downwards to rejoin him, removing all evidence he had ever been there.

He thought of his Cherie's face in the morning and smirked. Well, almost all evidence.