A/N: I just watched a ton of XME Romy videos and this is what sprouts out of that. Peachy. This is what I get for doing a closet cosplay today :\
Disclaimer: I do not own. Really, I don't.
He opens his eyes to the cold, whipping wind that tears at the edges of his trenchcoat and burns his vision. His face feels hard and wind-burnt, but he doesn't mind.
Gambit first clenches his fist to feel his fingers and to maybe get some blood flowing to his extremities before attempting to move his legs. Stiff and iced but mobile, he begins to rise to his feet. The first time, he falls and takes a faceful of snow. It fills his mouth and nose and stings his eyes, but he actually spits it out and laughs, blinking the frost crystals from his eyelashes.
The last fragments of his memory are of Logan grabbing his hands and holding them tight, trying to cram him into the trunk of a black SUV. He's struggling but not scared. He's concerned but not for himself.
In the window of the Xavier Institute stands his chérie, his precious angel. Her white hair is stark against the dark shadows that echo within, the moving bodies of Kurt and Scott as they struggle to hold her back, trying to keep Logan from taking him and hiding him again. Her lips are moving; her cries are faint. One hand gets free from the boys and is pressed against the glass, reaching for him, desperate.
The final piece of his consciousness: elbowing Logan in the gut and ripping both arms free to blow his true love the biggest kiss imaginable, both hands involved in his dramatic, romantic gesture. He can barely recall her response, a faint smile through glistening tears, before he's knocked unconscious by a sharp strike to the head courtesy of Wolverine.
Really, this isn't the worst for him. Gambit hauls himself up again and brushes off his clothes, white flakes fluttering to the ground. He allows himself to shiver once before looking up at the bleak ivory world that has swallowed him.
Sharp mountain peaks pierce the sky. A few streaks of grey define up from down. It's hard to tell what's a drift and what's solid ground. He figures he'll gamble, risk it all. In a world of solid white, he's ready to find her dark eyes and dark clothes and dark hair… It's like he's lost in the white streak of her hair, and he laughs at the thought while trudging through the snowy terrain.
Snow crunches loudly under his boots, the only sound besides the howling of the wind. He props up the collar of his trenchcoat to shield himself and shoves his hands in his pockets to keep them from getting frostbitten. Remy LeBeau carries on like there's nothing there, like he's walking down a street on a perfectly sunny day, watching the world pass him by without a care in the world.
On his mind is his chérie, his saving grace. He's only searching for her, for his little ray of sunshine in the dark, dark world that's fallen around him. He wants his precious thing, his little girl, and will do anything to be back by her side and to have her in his arms, tucked in close like a teddy bear to a child.
Through wind and snow, he just wants her. Civilization means nothing. Material things are worthless. She is his world, his sun, moon, and stars, and he will go any distance to be back by her side. Through wind and snow, he treks back towards the rest of the world.
Rogue is the only thing on his mind.
A/N: Thanks for reading, leave a review?