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Diamonds Etched in Blood: Parts 1-3 Part 1 The cold bit at him like a ferocious monster, but still he walked on, white snow coming up around his legs and melting against his numb skin. Frigid wind swept up his long red hair, the icicles that filled it tingling slightly as they broke. Sharp, retching pain afflicted his lungs, cold air freezing them as it did the rest of his body. But still he walked on. His brain had lost the ability to entertain idle thoughts, or even to consider his predicament and how he had come to be here. All his energies centered around one purpose. Survival. Even if it was hopeless. He could barely see through the falling snow. It swept into his eyes and blocked his vision, his eyelashes having long ago been ripped out in his attempts to open frozen eyelids. He tripped in a deep, white drift and fell, one bare arm reaching out to break his collision with the ground. The other hand was closed in a fist, lifted protectively away from the snow. Curious, he opened it, seeing inside a small tattered card with a printed picture of a woman and a Q in the corner. The heart on its face caught his attention. Its dark red color burned his eyes, reaching into his chest and grabbing at the empty space there. He wondered at the reaction but couldn¡¦t remember where the card had come from, even though something told him he should. He was too tired to really care anyway. Weakly he staggered to his feet, pushing onward and still holding the card because something inside him just wouldn¡¦t let it go. Through blurry vision he gazed around him, white hills of snow filling all directions as far as the limited visibility would allow him see. He didn¡¦t know where he was going, moving forward only because instinct told him it was better than staying still. But he was so tired. Trembling, he took another tiny step... and stumbled again, lying face down in the snow. For a moment he simply stayed there, and in a detached, delusional way, wondered if he were not already dead. He felt so empty inside... He tried to get up, but couldn¡¦t, body refusing to work through the numbness. So tired... His eyes closed against the white pad of snow. Mouth pressed firmly against the cold, icy substance, his lungs screaming for air. But he was too exhausted to lift his head. He¡¦d be asleep soon anyway. Closing his hand around the mysterious card, he let go of the last weak threads that held him so tenuously to awareness. Vaguely, he knew that he was dying, but no fear erupted within him at the thought... for in reality he was already dead... had had the life sucked out of him weeks earlier... Tired... Dizziness embraced him from lack of air... Sleep was so near, a tangible black hole over whose edge he peered longingly... Another step and he would be swallowed up in it... So near... and suddenly he was falling, swimming in murky darkness, unconsciousness rolling over him and surrounding him like a lover¡¦s arms... Until he woke up gasping desperately for air. Remy LeBeau
sat on the side of the bed. His hands shook violently and he pressed
them against the plush surface to keep them still. Breaths came in
ragged gasps as he tried to collect himself. The red irises of his
strange eyes glowed brightly in the dim light of the early morning.
He¡¦d had the nightmare again. The reoccurring one that featured everyone¡¦s
favorite vacation spot: And she¡¦d almost succeeded. Had it not been for that Inuit man sent by New Son to find him, Remy would most likely be a frozen popsicle somewhere on the bottom of the world. Course, that didn¡¦t mean he was better off alive than dead. He owed a debt to New Son and he didn¡¦t even know who the guy was. And if he failed to fill that debt? Remy knew of much worse punishments than death. After New Son
had saved his life he¡¦d immediately made good on the deal, sending
Remy off into the He had made his father, Jean Luc, call the X-Men for him once, just in case anybody still cared to know he was alive. He hadn¡¦t had the guts to do it himself, but he¡¦d needed to know if he had any friends left there, which surprised him. Why did it matter so much? Anyway, it had been worth calling. He still smiled at the memory of his father telling him how Stormy had resorted to threats in order to get him to let her speak to Remy. Talking to her had been comforting; at least he knew they all didn¡¦t hate him. By the end of the conversation he¡¦d even felt relaxed enough to call her Stormy again. Speaking to Storm
had also given him a chance to find out the latest news on the team...
and on one member in particular. Apparently, Rogue had left the X-Men
immediately after she¡¦d returned from Remy forcibly
pulled himself back to the present, to his little Hotel Room in Remy stood and walked unsteadily to the tiny bathroom. He was soaked with sweat from the nightmare and a shower was definitely in order. Funny how he could dream about freezing to death and still wake up sweaty. Slipping out of his boxers with the adorable little Budweiser frogs (which he had worn to bed simply because they were so darn cute), he stepped into the warm misty water that emerged from a tiny, silver showerhead high on the shower wall. The steamy water streamed over his body, helping to relax the tightly twined muscles. After washing himself with a flower scented bar of hotel soap and a shampoo/conditioner that didn¡¦t quite do the job of untangling his hair, he got out of the shower and left the bathroom wrapped in a fuzzy white towel. His luggage sat in the corner, happily awaiting its owner, and Remy dug through its contents until he found a clean pair of jeans and a white T-shirt. He dressed and sat down on the bed again. Wincing, he looked at the clock. Only eight in the morning. He was crazy to be up this early, but after that nightmare he really didn¡¦t feel much like going back to sleep. What to do... What to do... He tapped his
fingers restlessly against the nightstand next to the bed. His flight
back to Getting up from the bed, Remy walked to the full-length mirror and checked to make sure he was presentable. He smiled admiringly at the tall, lean, handsome man that stared back at him. "Remy y¡¦ are one good-lookin¡¦ homme," he said to himself. Then his smile flipped upside down. "Too bad de inside ain¡¦t nearly as pretty as de outside." Taking the dark Raybans from the table to hide his unusual mutant eyes, he turned and left the hotel room. One order of hotcakes and a cup of coffee later, Remy sat at a small table talking to a rather pretty woman. She was young, about his age, and sported a thick bob of red hair. He sat across from her, comfortable in the hard, rigid chair, easy confidence scrawled across his face as he flirted effortlessly with her. "So, umm... where are you from?" she asked. It was a casual question, but he knew she was feeling him out; New Yorkers were by far the most suspicious folk on the planet. Remy put on the
straightest, most serious face he could muster. "De great state o¡¦ "Really?" she asked, trying not to seem too skeptical despite the unbelieving way her eyebrows were raised. "Non... but I always did wonder what it be like t¡¦ live in an igloo." He smiled at her then and her countenance cracked into a chuckle. "You are one of a kind, Mr..." He smiled at her again, though this time it was more of a smirk, but said nothing, waiting for her to press the issue. Her emerald green eyes sparkled as she looked at him curiously and he had to force himself not to look away... They reminded him too much a certain someone he didn¡¦t want to think about right now. "Well?" she persisted. "Aren¡¦t you gonna tell me your name? My coffee is now officially cold and I¡¦ve been so busy talking to you that I¡¦ve neglected to fulfill my daily caffeine requirement. The people at work are gonna want to know the name of the man responsible for turning me into a terrible caffeine deprived monster." "Guess," he answered simply. "Your name?" she asked. He nodded in reply. "Okay." She squinted those brilliant green eyes at him for a moment, face scrunched slightly in the pretense of deep thought. "Wilbur," she said finally and then laughed at the horrible face he made at her. "Wilbur!?" he exclaimed. "Hehe...
relax. I¡¦m just kidding." She smiled mischievously at him. "You¡¦re
too cute to have a name like Wilbur. Okay, seriously now. You¡¦re wearing
sunglasses inside McDonalds and you don¡¦t look like you¡¦ve shaved
in a week, so you gotta have one of those
big macho names... But you¡¦re also somewhat civilized so it can¡¦t
be something like ¡¦Spike¡¦ or ¡¦Bubba¡¦..." She laughed as he made
more horrified faces. "And you say stuff like ¡¦chere¡¦
and ¡¦merci¡¦ so you must be French or something..." She paused
for a moment, brow wrinkled in concentration. "Oh, I don¡¦t know...
He laughed at her. "Give up?" he asked. "Yes!" came the exasperated answer. "Remy." "Remy?" "Yup." "Oh." "Well?" "Well, what?" "Aren¡¦ y¡¦ gonna tell me your name? It¡¦s only fair, chere." She smiled at him sweetly. "Guess." "Okay," he answered, not the least bit perturbed. "You got nice legs, beautiful eyes, good figure, cool colored hair..." She was blushing bright pink by now. "...and a certain reddish tint to your face that I¡¦m just now noticing..." He grinned as she gave him a look. Then he pretended to think for a moment until he nodded his head slowly, as if a conclusion had finally been reached. "Yep, y¡¦ gotta be an ¡¦Lizabeth. An Elizabeth McTannel t¡¦ be exact" Her eyes grew wide and her mouth dropped open in shock. "How?" she gasped. His smug look only increased at her disbelief. "What are you? A psychic?" Her emerald eyes widened further and their depths almost made him recoil in their familiarity. A look of fear found its way onto her pretty features, and her voice dropped to a whisper. "A stalker?" "Non." He held up a small black wallet before her. "Jus¡¦ a t¡¦ief." "You stole my¡¦." She reached out and grabbed the little leather object from his hand, immediately checking to see if her money was still there. He watched with an amused expression. "If Remy wanted t¡¦ steal de lovely lady¡¦s money, he wouldn¡¦t have bothered t¡¦ give her wallet back, non?" She glared at him angrily, putting the wallet into her purse. "When did you take it?" Her voice was cold, threatening. "When I bumped inta y¡¦ after y¡¦ got your order." He watched the realization bloom on her face. "You made me spill my coffee... Then you insisted on buying me another cup. You used apologizing as an excuse to sit with me..." She looked shocked at the revelation. "I know. Kill two birds wi¡¦t one stone. Get a wallet an¡¦ a pretty girl." He also knew that arrogance was seeping from his pores. But no matter, so was the charm. "You bumped into me on purpose!" "Yup." "Ugh, I think I¡¦m gonna be sick." "Don¡¦t worry..." He looked down, searching his pockets. "I t¡¦ink I have one o¡¦ dose barf bags de airlines like t¡¦ give out somewhere..." His fake sincerity was too much and, unexpectedly, she burst out laughing, though it had a decidedly nervous edge to it. "You really are on of a kind!" she managed between giggles. He smiled and began to stand. "Well, I t¡¦ink my work here is done. Time for me t¡¦ move on an¡¦ terrorize some more be¡¦utiful women." "You¡¦re leaving?" "Yup.
Check out for m¡¦ hotel is at "Oh," was all she could manage, being taken aback by the abrupt ending to the conversation. "Bye!" he said, somehow working some cheerfulness into his voice despite the unnerved feelings inside of him. Turning, he deposited his garbage in a nearby container with the words ¡¦Thank you¡¦ thoughtfully printed on it, and left. "Bye.." she called weakly after him, not quite sure how she should respond. "Wow. Was it something I said?" she mumbled. "That was really weird. And after all that he didn¡¦t even ask for my number." She stared after him until he disappeared beyond the view of the restaurant windows. The smile faded from Remy¡¦s mouth the moment he knew he was out of the redhead¡¦s view. He walked quickly down the crowded street, trying to ignore the queasy feeling all the moving people created with his spatial sense, and took a deep breath to calm his nerves. He¡¦d had to get out of there. The green eyes on the femme had been so brilliant, so deep in their richness that he¡¦d felt like he might fall into them. But they hadn¡¦t been hers. They had been Rogue¡¦s. The perfect shade of emerald. Cold, judging, hating as she sentenced him to die alone in a deserted, unforgiving, wasteland. And he had run from them now as he then, running through endless drifts of snow trying to escape the image of them in his mind, finally stopping only when exhausted drove him to his knees at the foot of the Citadel. Remy knew the girl in McDonalds wasn¡¦t really Rogue. But those eyes made his heart believe she was, bringing him back to the painful memories. So he had left, albeit a bit abruptly, but it was all he could do. Somebody bumped into him on the bustling city street bringing him back to himself. On reflex he automatically checked his pockets to make sure his wallet hadn¡¦t been swiped. Still there. Good. The sprawling monolith of the hotel rose before him and Remy pushed through the rotating doors at the front to find himself in a busy lobby. He swung over to the left, just barely making it into the full elevator before the doors closed. Plush, red carpeting covered the floor and he could feel it sink a bit under his weight. The walls surrounding
him were made out of mirrors and Remy stared at his reflection, singling
it out from among the other passengers¡¦. He was more critical of it
now, than he had been earlier. The face that looked back at him was
a bit thinner than it should have been, cheeks
sunken in a little too much. He¡¦d lost a lot of weight between starving
in A heavy sigh escaped his lips and he averted his eyes from the reflective glass. It would be better soon. He just needed time. Given another month he should be back to normal. Physically at least. The ringing of the elevator bell interrupted his thoughts as it signaled its stopping. Stepping out onto the 13th floor, Remy wandered down the hallway to his room. Inside everything was exactly as he had left it. Collapsing onto the soft bed, he took off his sunglasses and retrieved his wallet from a pocket in his tight jeans. Going to a particular compartment, he pulled out a single tattered playing card from between the brown leather. The queen of hearts stared solemnly at him from her place on the marred cardboard. The edges were frayed and a whole corner was missing. There was also a big line through the middle of it where Remy had angrily ripped it once, and then later carefully taped it back together. But despite all this, this one card had the power to send him into a blind rage... or leave him in a deep pool of depression. It was the card Rogue had given him as a symbol of her love before she had found out about his involvement in the Mutant Massacre. Flipping it over in his hands, Remy was careful not to do further damage. She had promised to love him unconditionally, despite the dark secrets the he held within him, but once she¡¦d found out about the atrocities he¡¦d been a part of, she¡¦d left him to die. How dare she make him believe that he had a chance at true happiness, at true love, only to viciously rip his heart from his chest when he was most vulnerable? He hated her for that. And still, despite it all, he couldn¡¦t help but love her too. He sighed, disgusted with himself, and rolled over to look at the clock radio on the nightstand. Fifteen minutes until checkout. What he supposed to do until then? His stuff was already packed and he didn¡¦t want to leave until only a minute before checkout, just to see if he could annoy the desk clerk. Tapping his fingers restlessly against the bed, his eyes wandered aimlessly across the room. And stopped abruptly on the phone that sat innocently on the nightstand. There was someone he could call. It had been a while since he¡¦d talked to her and it would be nice to find out how she was. Sitting up quickly and grabbing the phone before he could change his mind, Remy dialed a familiar number. One ring. Two. He hoped desperately that she would be the one to pick up. "Hello?" a female voiced asked. A smile spread across his face. Today was his lucky day. Or so he thought. "¡¦Lo Stormy. What¡¦s u¡¦" "Remy! Your timing could not be more perfect!" A frown replaced the gleeful expression. Something was wrong. "What de matter ¡¦Roro?" he questioned cautiously. "The X-Men have a... situation that requires the use of your... special expertise." "Special expertise?" He couldn¡¦t help the suspicion and sarcasm that found its way into his tone. "Yes. As you know the X-Men tend to lack in stealth. We are somewhat notorious for making our presence know. Unfortunately, our newest mission involves a sort of breaking and entering. Considering your background, your help would be very valuable." "What would de X-Men want wit¡¦ a B&E? An¡¦ why can¡¦ y¡¦ do it. You were a t¡¦ief once too." "I was never as skilled at that as you were. Picking pockets was always more of my forte." There was a hesitance in her voice that perked his suspicion. "Come on ¡¦Roro. I know y¡¦ too well t¡¦ miss dat you¡¦re not tellin¡¦ me de whole story. What de real reason y¡¦ want m¡¦ help?" There was a long pause on the other line. Then, "Remy, are you sitting down?" He didn¡¦t like the strange tone of her voice. "Yah, why?" "Are you holding anything breakable... or chargeable in your case?" "Jus¡¦ de phone. What aren¡¦ y¡¦ tellin¡¦ me ¡¦Ro?" His patience was running out. "We found Rogue." Three words. Three incredibly blunt and painful words. He felt his breath catch in his throat and he had to force himself to inhale. This was the last thing he needed. "So what does dat have t¡¦ do wit¡¦ me?" he asked angrily when he could breath properly again. "...You may be able to provide some... insight into the situation because of your past... history... " She sighed in frustration as if she didn¡¦t know how exactly to phrase what she was trying to say. Finally she just spit it out. "We believe she is with Sinister." He was half-conscious of the stream of curses that flew out of his mouth in half a dozen languages as the realization slammed into him. He failed altogether to notice the pink glow flowing from his hand where it rested on the bed into the comforter he was sitting on¡¦at least not until it exploded, throwing him onto the floor. Somehow he managed not to pull the phone out of the wall. "Ow!" he whined as he landed loudly on his side. "Remy? What was that?" came the concerned voice on the other line. "Not¡¦in¡¦" "Remy... I know this is hard for you, but despite what she¡¦d done, as hard as it is to admit it, she does deserve a chance to be heard. I am very angry with her, but she is still an X-Man, as are you. And the X-Men look after their own." "Yeah, yeah, save de speeches Stormy. I know." "So you will help?" A resigned sigh and, "Got no choice. I¡¦d never forgive myself if I let dat madman, Essex, hurt her." He could almost imagine Storm nodding in understanding to fill the brief pause. "I knew I could count on you my friend." "What ¡¦bout de other X-Men. Dey agree to me t¡¦ me helpin¡¦ out?" He deliberately avoided saying ¡¦coming back.¡¦ He didn¡¦t plan on staying with the team any longer than was absolutely necessary. "They... do not yet know. I believe they will tolerate it though. Where are you Remy? Will it take you long to get here?" "Non.
I¡¦m in "Good. I¡¦ll expect you here by lunchtime. Good bye until then." And then she hung up before he could argue with her. The dial tone blared almost accusingly in his ear as he picked himself up off the floor and hung up the phone. He sighed heavily as he stared at the scorched bed and noticed that, according to the clock, he had only five minutes left until checkout. Reaching down, he lifted the charred blanket off the floor and dropped it in a heap on the bed. He was about to turn and gather his luggage to leave when something on the floor caught his eye. It was the Queen of Hearts. And a new, long, black scorch-mark was visible on its face. Another scar to add to the collection. Part 2 Part
2 He stared out the window, a strong feeling of foreboding weighing him down as the cab pulled up to the extravagant mansion. He tried to tell himself that he shouldn¡¦t care what these people thought of him, but he couldn¡¦t. For some strange reason it mattered. The car stopped and Remy LeBeau had to force himself to pay the driver and get out. Instinctively, he knew that he should get as far away from this place as he could. He should run and run and never stop until the mansion was barely a dot on the horizon. Too bad he wasn¡¦t at liberty to listen to that tempting little voice in his head. There were people who needed him, and there were issues that needed to be resolved, no matter how intimidating. The mansion where the X-Men based their operations was a rather breathtaking sight. Room upon room stretched out into a mammoth sized structure that spoke of riches, wealth and greatness. Hardly the location anyone would suspect of being the X-Men¡¦s headquarters, especially under the guise of a university for the "gifted." Glancing down
at his Rolex, Remy saw that the time was just a little past The woman who stood framed in the doorway was of Spanish heritage. Her skin was tanned darkly and her hair hung behind her head in thick braids gathered back at the nape of her neck. Cold, brown eyes stared at him, the expression on her face clearly indicating that she was annoyed at having been bothered. "Can I help you?" she asked, her tone bored and even slightly sarcastic. "Sure can, chere." Remy smiled at her, mentally switching into urbane mode in an attempt to hide his discomfort with being here. She looked at him expectantly, waiting for more information. "I¡¦m here t¡¦ see a friend o¡¦ mine. Goes by de name o¡¦ Stormy." A flash of recognition crossed over her countenance. "You must be Remy. Storm told me to expect you," she said simply. "Dat be me. An¡¦ y¡¦, my bea¡¦tiful petite are...?" "Dr. Cecilia Reyes," she supplied flatly. No welcome in the tone, no warmth. Just business. As she stepped aside to allow him to enter, Remy couldn¡¦t help but mutter, "Doctor, hmm? Sure hope your bedside manner¡¦s better den y¡¦ welcoming policies." That earned him an icy stare as he walked passed her and entered the room. He glanced about expecting to see the place exactly as he¡¦d left it, and then froze in shock as he saw the complete opposite. The giant room was empty. Utterly and completely... empty. "What de...?" he trailed off as he sputtered somewhat speechlessly at the unexpected sight. Cecilia was smiling smugly at the break in his bravado. "What happened here?" he finally managed, swallowing his pride in awe. "Operation: Zero Tolerance happened." Her face hardened considerably at the mention of the words and he didn¡¦t miss the undercurrent of anger in her voice as she continued. "Government program led by a madman named Bastion. He raided the mansion and stripped it dry." She shrugged, though the expression held no sense of indifference. "Sounds like y¡¦ ain¡¦t particularly fond o¡¦ de guy." Her gaze darted to him. "Well, aren¡¦t you perceptive." Brown eyes narrowed bitterly. "He took my life away. I¡¦d say that gives me the right to hate him." "Yeah, I¡¦d say it does," Remy replied quietly. Ouch. He¡¦d sure struck a nerve, and he¡¦d struck it awfully hard. Even when he wasn¡¦t trying, he had the ability to get under people¡¦s skin. That was fine for people like Cyclops, who needed someone to loosen them up and teach them not to take everything so seriously, but he didn¡¦t even know this girl. He had enough enemies without making new ones. But still, he had to wonder exactly what Bastion had done to her. "Storm¡¦s waiting for you upstairs. I¡¦ll take you to her room," Cecilia said breaking into his thoughts. "T¡¦anks, but I¡¦ll find it m¡¦self. I ¡¦member de way." She shrugged nonchalantly and left him to follow through on his words. The corridor of the women¡¦s wing was completely deserted. He wondered distantly where everyone was as he passed door after door and neither heard nor saw any sign of life. Suddenly he stopped. This had been Rogue¡¦s room. Feeling as if he were glued to the spot where he stood, he reached up and touched the cool, dark wood of the door. His heart melted within his chest. "Aaaw Roguie... how is it dat y¡¦ managed t¡¦ mean s¡¦ much t¡¦ me? Never t¡¦ought I would love ¡¦gain after Beladonna... Den I met y¡¦ an¡¦ realized dat Bela wasn¡¦ even true love..." He had his head resting against the door now and his eyes closed as he let memories wash over him. Then he straightened abruptly. "But y¡¦ made y¡¦ choice, non? Now I gotta learn t¡¦ live wit¡¦ it." He paused for a second, his mood shifting slightly. "If y¡¦ couldn¡¦t see dat I¡¦ve changed and dat I love ya... den maybe it just your loss." He turned, fingers trailing across the wood as he walked on down the hall to Storm¡¦s room. One knock was all it took to bring Ororo to the door. Sweeping it open swiftly, the tall, dark woman immediately gathered him into a hug. A smile lit his face. "Hey Stormy," he greeted, though his words came out muffled through her hair. "Nice t¡¦ see y¡¦ too." "I told you," she said as she backed away, grinning, "do not call me that." "Hey, I t¡¦ink I¡¦m entitled. Been a while, non?" "Yes. Too long." Silence. He watched as she gave him the once over, trying to guard the worried expression that sought to make itself known on its features. She had obviously noticed his gauntness. "How about you my friend?" A hint of concern flickered in her eyes. "Don¡¦ worry ¡¦bout me. I fine. Take more dan subzero temperatures to stop dis Cajun, non?" She winced at
the reference and he instantly regretted the comment. Go ¡¦head
Remy, would you like ketchup wit¡¦ dat
foot in your mouth? "So, um, where¡¦s the rest o¡¦ de team?" he asked hurriedly, changing the subject. "Far¡¦s I c¡¦n see, dis place¡¦s almost deserted. ¡¦Cept f¡¦r de new girl I met downstairs o¡¦ course." "I gave the X-Men the afternoon off and ...encouraged them to leave for a while. They were told to be back by dinner. Only Sara and Cecilia decided to stay." "Sara? Anot¡¦er new member?" Storm gave him a strange look. "We have much to discuss Remy. I told the X-Men to leave so that we would have time to do so." With a graceful step to the side she gestured into her room. "Come inside and make yourself comfortable. This might take a while." "She¡¦s been dere how long!?" Remy asked, pausing momentarily in his pacing to glance over at Storm where she sat in an elegant, white, wicker chair. "Hank found her mutant signature early this morning, but we have no way of knowing how long she was there before Cerebro detected her." "An¡¦ y¡¦ sure it Sinister¡¦s place?" "We can¡¦t be certain. Cerebro isn¡¦t really functioning at full capacity yet. That is beside the fact that Cerebro shouldn¡¦t even be able to detect Sinister in the first place." "Not functioning at full capacity?" They¡¦d already discussed how Hank had somehow managed to catch Sinister¡¦s signal earlier that morning while working on Cerebro, despite the fact that that should be impossible. There was only one explanation that satisfied Remy. It was a trap. They knew that, but what could they do? Rogue could be hurt. "Yes. It was stolen with the rest of the technology here at the mansion. The X-Men only recently managed to retrieve it from a government warehouse and it hasn¡¦t been fully tested and rebooted yet." "Oh. So it could be a mistake, right? De results aren¡¦ exact." He raised his eyebrows hopefully. "Yes. We cannot be certain until we take a closer look in person. In addition, since we know that Cerebro cannot really detect Sinister, we have no way of determining if he is really involved. It could be someone else pretending to be him, sending out a false signal." she noted. Remy nodded
once and resumed his pacing. He didn¡¦t really believe Storm¡¦s idea
about a ¡¦Sinister impersonator¡¦. He just had a feeling that the
crazy geneticist was really the one involved in this. A stream of
curses in French rolled through his mind. This was bad. His deal
with "Remy. Please stop pacing. You are making me dizzy." He paused and turned to face her, forcing himself to shake off his thoughts and come back to the real world. "Sorry Stormy. Just a little on edge." ¡¦On edge¡¦ was an understatement. ¡¦On edge¡¦ was when you were in the middle of a particularly dangerous pinch and your cover could be blown at any moment. He was way past that point. He was over the edge and now falling off the cliff. Remy¡¦s heart felt like it would beat out of his chest and the blood tickled feverishly in his veins. That was to say nothing of the muscles that were so tightly twined he thought they would snap. Mention the name ¡¦Sinister¡¦ and this was his typical reaction. Actually, come to think of it, ¡¦Rogue¡¦ could also arouse such an effect. The two combined was not a good thing. And then there was Sara, whom he had recently found out was also a Morlock. The same Morlock he had saved when he¡¦d been thrust into the middle of the Massacre with no way out years ago. Storm eyed him
for a moment and then glanced at a clock on the wall. "I believe
it is time to go. I have arranged a meeting at Remy suddenly felt immeasurably worse but nodded and followed Storm out the door. She dropped back when he emerged from her room to walk side by side with him. Gentle fingers intertwined with his sweaty hand and he looked over at Ororo only to find her gazing intently at him. "It will be fine," she said with such force that he was almost inclined to believe her. "If anybody can handle this, you can, Remy." He wasn¡¦t exactly sure what she meant by that but it was comforting nonetheless. They descended the stairs. Somehow, he would make it through this. Storm led the
way into the war room as Remy mentally composed himself. A mask
fell over his features and he reflexively reinforced his mental
shields, both to keep telepaths out and to stop the flow of emotions
his empathic abilities would normally allow in. Ahead of him, Storm
entered the room. He could hear "Gambit?" "What are you doing here?!" "I thought
you were still in A few eyes narrowed angrily at him, a few were opened wide in shock, but everyone had one emotion written clearly on their faces. Surprise. They hadn¡¦t known he was coming. He gave Storm a questioning, sideways glance but she wasn¡¦t looking at him. She must have had her reasons for not telling the X-Men to expect him. He returned his gaze to the assembled crowd, sweeping over them. Besides Storm and himself there was Archangel, Iceman, the Beast, Psylocke, Cecilia Reyes, somebody he didn¡¦t recognize but figured was Maggott from Storm¡¦s description earlier, Wolverine, and... and... A voice managed to find its way through the droning mumble of comments. It was cold, and gravely, and full of bitterness. "So, I see ya found the Gene Traitor, huh Windrider?" It was hardly a quiet snarl, but the vehemence it carried allowed it to be heard clearly over the now dying exclamations of shock. Gambit felt as if the blood was freezing in his veins and almost shivered as he turned to look at the speaker and realized who it was. Bones. Bones everywhere, sticking out at odd, disjointed angles. And hate. It was written on every angle of her face, present in every movement she made. And he could feel it even through his strong mental shields. It was pungent, and sharp, and dirty, and choking. He tried to push it out of his mind, tried to force his empathic abilities to ignore it, but he couldn¡¦t. It was just so strong. The girl stood staring at him contemptuously, each hand gripping a bone dagger tightly. Dropping lower, she assumed a fighting stance, eyes watching him warily, like those of a predator waiting to pounce on its prey. He recognized her immediately. "Sara?" he breathed stupidly. It was all his brain could manage through the thick fog of emotions she conjured within it. "My name," she snarled coldly, "is Marrow." "I¡¦m so sorry...," he said, visions of the Morlock Massacre churning through his mind. Visions of innocent people being slaughtered. Even women. Even children. "I didn¡¦ mean t¡¦... I didn¡¦ know..." "Sorry won¡¦t bring back the Morlocks that you killed!" she shrieked. "But they will have their revenge through me, Murderer. Don¡¦t worry. I promise ta make yer death slow and painful..." Her hand tightened around the long bone she held and in a flash of movement she reached back to throw it. Remy dodged, diving to the floor and expecting the dagger to fly by above him. But it never did. Surprised, he looked up to see Wolverine sitting on top of her, pinning her to the floor and aiming three, long, jagged claws menacingly at her bare throat. "Lay off of Gumbo, ya hear?" he growled in a deep guttural tone. It was obvious he and Sara weren¡¦t exactly the best of pals. "You would defend the Gene Traitor?" she asked, a look of shock and disgust warping her features. Her eyes narrowed angrily. "Then you are a traitor as well," she threatened quietly. Wolverine tensed visibly, muscles tightening and claws moving just a bit closer to the exposed jugular. "You watch yer tongue girl, or ya might lose it." She simply laughed, a bitter cackle, in reply. "Yeah? You can¡¦t protect the traitor all the time old man. I will have my vengeance." She turned to stare at Gambit who now stood ready with three cards in hand. Her intense gaze bore into him and she spoke very slowly and deliberately, letting the hate drip off of each syllable. "Be afraid Gene Traitor. Be very afraid. The moment ya let yer guard down... I¡¦ll be there." A wicked smile split her lips then and she turned back to face Wolverine, dropping the bones she held and raising her hands in a gesture of surrender. Wolverine didn¡¦t move. He stared at her as if he were waiting for an excuse to bring his claws across the few centimeters that separated them from her throat. " Slowly, predatorily, Wolverine got up and backed away. Within seconds Sara was on her feet and stalking out of the room. An insidious smile crossed her lips as she passed by Gambit, pausing only long enough to growl out a threat. "Remember Murderer, I¡¦ll be watching ya." He almost shivered. This was the same girl he had rescued years ago, and if it came down to a fight between them... he just wasn¡¦t sure he could hurt her. He¡¦d caused her so much pain already. Gradually the
gazes in the room turned to rest heavily on Remy again, with Marrow
no longer present to occupy their attention. The tension in the
air was so thick he felt like it would swallow him up if he didn¡¦t
do something. He was just about to speak to break the silence when
Storm cut in and took the initiative. "I think it is time we
began," she said loudly, pulling the attention of the room¡¦s
occupants to herself. "As you all know, our enemy, Sinister,
is suspected of holding Rogue captive. At "You expect
us to go on a mission with this traitor? How can you trust him after
what he did to us? ...After what he did to me?" "Remy has proven himself to us on numerous occasions as an X-Man," Storm replied harshly. There was a slight pause and when she spoke again her voice was softer, sadder, holding a hint of resignation. "But I understand your concern even if I do not agree with it. That is why I am only taking a very limited number of people on this mission, of which you are not one. It we are going to do this quietly, a big group will only endanger us." "Then who, may I ask, are the members of this highly exclusive team?" That from the Beast who, up until now, had been uncharacteristically quiet. "Wolverine, Gambit, and myself." Throughout the whole procession, Bobby Drake had been standing silently in the corner brooding. That was about to change. "Are you all crazy?" he yelled in exasperation, "Hasn¡¦t he," Bobby looked pointedly at Gambit, "caused Rogue enough pain already? And you¡¦re calling him back to do more?" The reaction in Gambit was immediate, his eyes narrowed, their red color brightening to glow eerily. His stance became threatening without him even noticing and the hand that didn¡¦t hold the three cards was balled tightly into a fist. "Are you insinuatin¡¦ dat I would hurt Rogue?" he rasped quietly. Bobby seemed to hesitate for just a second before he answered. "That¡¦s exactly what I¡¦m insinuating!" The room was silent as the two men stared at each other. It really wasn¡¦t like Bobby to be so bold. "Y¡¦ wanna take dis outside, Drake?" "Enough!" yelled Storm. A burst of tremendous thunder cracked to emphasize her command. Both turned to face her. "This is not open to debate. Henri, how long until the proper modifications are made to the portable Cerebro unit?" "An hour possibly?" "Good. We leave then." Gambit had turned back to eye Iceman warily, eyes still glowing as they bore into the younger man. The three cards glowed slightly in his hand, the minute charge he pumped into them being an unconscious reaction. "Remy!"
He looked over at Storm. The unspoken words were evident on her
expression. Back down and avoid trouble. Now. "Fine!" he barked out, and whirled to stomp out of the room, that is if it could be called ¡¦stomping.¡¦ His steps made no noise against the metal floors. Behind him Bobby muttered, "Yeah, you better run," and Remy nearly turned around. But he forced himself to keep walking. A fight would only make things worse. The sun was low in the sky and there was a slight breeze that accompanied the dropping temperature of dawn. There was still a lot of light out and he had to squint his extra sensitive eyes slightly, but he didn¡¦t mind. Sighing heavily, Remy looked out over the expansive grounds of the Xavier Institute. From his vantage point on the mansion¡¦s roof it looked rather impressive. Changing positions slightly, he drew his knees up to his chest, resting his chin on the arms that were crossed over them. When he¡¦d been a member of the X-Men, he¡¦d often spent similar moments in this exact same place. Then it had been quiet moments of shame for the horrific secret he hid from those he loved. And now? Now the secret was out¡¦or at least most of it was. Now he wondered if he¡¦d ever really belonged with the X-Men. He had hurt too many people to be a hero. Of course there were other X-Men who¡¦d had shady pasts, but they had reformed. He hadn¡¦t. He had regretted ever having been a part of the Mutant Massacre of course, he¡¦d learned to hate the selfishness he used to have and even grow out of it a bit, he¡¦d found the joy in helping others, the utter satisfaction of it. But he would always be the rebel, always the thief, always the outcast in a world of heroes. In a way he regretted that, but he was what he was. He couldn¡¦t change it, just learn to live with it and be happy. The Massacre was over. There was nothing he could do about it now. He had put it behind him, learned and changed from it. Why couldn¡¦t the people in the mansion below him do the same? He didn¡¦t want forgiveness. He didn¡¦t want people to forget what he had done. He just wanted them to move on despite it and stop concentrating on the past. Was that so much to ask? Apparently it was. Another deep sigh. He¡¦d known coming to the mansion would be hard, but this was even worse than he¡¦d imagined. He hadn¡¦t known on the drive up to the mansion that Sara would be here. If he had, maybe he wouldn¡¦t have come. Maybe he would have just went after Rogue on his own. The sun was
setting rapidly now, streaking the sky with brilliant shades of
pink and orange and yellow. Violently bright colors of emotions
so strong that they were nearly overwhelming... He was an empath.
It was a curse and a blessing. Today it had been a curse. He¡¦d felt
so much hate downstairs. Granted, it was mostly from a few choice
people, particularly Bobby, Warren, and Sara... but it had been
strong enough that he felt as if his psyche had been burned. And
now he was playing with the scar. Some of the team hadn¡¦t been around
during the Massacre¡¦Joseph, Cecilia, Maggott,
Psylocke. Most of them couldn¡¦t hate him
because they either didn¡¦t know him or they didn¡¦t understand the
magnitude of death and pain that there had been. He¡¦d sensed mostly
confusion and indifference from them. The Beast seemed... unsure
of what he felt, like he was angry at Remy but couldn¡¦t quite bring
himself to hate him. And that left one person unaccounted for. Storm. He wondered at that. She had been the Morlock¡¦s leader. He¡¦d earned her hatred for playing a part in slaying her people. She had been one of his closest friends but he had never told her of his involvement in the Massacre. Yet she bore no malevolent feelings toward him. At least none that he could sense. Why? Remy felt someone land lightly on the roof behind him with his kinetisthetic sense. The sense was an extension of his normal powers, creating a low-level field of energy around him that allowed him to sense and track the objects around him. He didn¡¦t turn. "Remy," came the voice, light and free as the wind. "It is time." He nodded, but still didn¡¦t move. "C¡¦n I ask y¡¦ somet¡¦ing ¡¦Roro? "Of course." "Why don¡¦ y¡¦ hate me f¡¦r de... de whole Massacre t¡¦ing?" "I did hate you." He turned suddenly only to find her staring at him, a gentle smile quirking her full lips. "But then I came to my senses." He raised a questioning eyebrow and she proceeded to explain. "My initial reaction was anger and a sense of betrayal." Turning again, he put his back to her, suddenly very uncomfortable. "But then the reality of the situation struck me and I realized that you might be dead. My heart shattered at that thought and I understood that I could not hate you. I treasured you as a friend too much and more than that... I trusted you. After realizing this, the only remnant of the earlier negative feeling I bore against you was shame for having felt that way at all." A slender hand slid onto his shoulder, comforting him with a gentle squeeze and warming up the chill in his bones temporarily. "You are too hard on yourself Remy LeBeau. Given time the X-Men will accept you as one of their own again." He tilted his head and squinted up to look into Storm¡¦s chocolate colored face. "Y¡¦ t¡¦ink so?" he questioned. "Yes. I do." There was a momentary pause as he thought about this. "It not really dem I¡¦m worried ¡¦bout." She seemed to catch his meaning. "I¡¦m sorry about Rogue, Remy, but if she has not realized her error than she is a fool." He turned sharply to look at her. "You are not an evil man," she continued. "If you were, I would have died a young girl in the Shadow King¡¦s grasp." There was another pause. "T¡¦anks Stormy," he finally said. "Of course," she answered. "And Remy?" "Yeah?" "Do not call me that." He smiled and stood, reaching up to the hand on his shoulder and grasping it in his own. Together they left the roof to the falling darkness. Part 3 Part 3
It was dark, and the street was empty. Neither of which disturbed Remy LeBeau as he crouched in the shadows with Storm and Wolverine. His red-on-black eyes absorbed light and cut through the dark easily, boring into their target. A federal savings bank. The building was a square structure, its front face covered almost entirely with glass. Twin columns stood like sentinels guarding the double-door entrance. The lights were off inside and the bank sat quiet and deserted, pretending to be no more extraordinary than any of the other buildings nearby. But Remy knew better. ¡¦Y¡¦ sure it under de bank?¡¦ the man who went by the name of Gambit in times such as these asked. His eyes glowed an uncanny red, hinting at the whirlwind of emotions within him. ¡¦Yes. The origin of the signal Cerebro believes to be Sinister is directly below it.¡¦ Storm answered quietly, looking down at a tiny, hand-held computer that blinked and flashed in the dark. There was a soft growl as Wolverine crinkled his nose. ¡¦No... It¡¦s definitely the real Sinister. His scent¡¦s all over this street, maybe a week old. I¡¦d know that stench anywhere.¡¦ Gambit
couldn¡¦t help the sharp intake of air upon hearing this.
So it really was ¡¦If I know Sinister...¡¦ he said after a moment, ¡¦den he have a secret entrance somewhere nearby... but it gonna be real well hidden. I t¡¦ink our best bet is t¡¦ jus¡¦ break into de bank an¡¦ go down t¡¦rough de floor...¡¦ He turned to glance at Storm and saw her hesitation. ¡¦Don¡¦ worry Stormy... ain¡¦t like we gonna steal anyt¡¦ing. We jus¡¦ passin¡¦ t¡¦rough, neh?¡¦ He watched her consider this for a moment before she finally nodded her consent. A mischievous grin slithered across Remy¡¦s face as he shuffled through the contents of his bag. This was something he could handle. B&E¡¦s were his specialty and he¡¦d been sure to bring all the necessary equipment. All the best, most expensive, high-tech equipment. It sure wouldn¡¦t do to be caught because he didn¡¦t have good enough tools. But as important as nice equipment was, none of that would mean anything if he needed to break into Sinister¡¦s base directly. That place was sure to be protected with security systems even his nifty gadgets couldn¡¦t help against. It would be a very big challenge, despite his skill. But a bank? A bank was a piece of cake. ¡¦It be best if I go in first t¡¦ disable de security. More people¡¦ll only increase our chances o¡¦ detection. I¡¦ll call y¡¦ when I¡¦m ready f¡¦ ya.¡¦ He tapped the small silver combadge he wore. The one that Henry had whipped together at the last minute for communications. Storm nodded her agreement, but held his gaze a moment longer to give him a concerned, heartfelt look. ¡¦Be careful, my friend.¡¦ ¡¦Yeah, and ya better not ¡¦accidentally¡¦ end up in the vault while yer at it Cajun,¡¦ added Wolverine. ¡¦Who? Me?¡¦ Remy grinned, treating them all with an innocent look. And then he was gone, slipping into the shadows as if they were a second skin.
The bank was well protected. Cameras peeked out from hidden corners in the building, straining to catch a glimpse of anyone who dared to cross their threshold. Mentally, Remy switched into thief mode, crouching just beyond the circle of light created by a street lamp. His emotions clenched together, huddled into a tight knot¡¦anticipation, worry, fear, excitement¡¦all thrown together into one volatile ball of anxiety. He pushed it away, forced it deep within himself, into a locked chest where it couldn¡¦t escape. A pretense of professionalism fell over him as his mind focussed on a single goal: breaking into the bank without being detected. Unimportant details slipped away into oblivion, sorted out by his experienced brain. But they were never ignored so completely that he could miss some disguised sign of danger. Concentrating, he listened carefully to the world around him, noticing background noise and then ignoring it as such, but always paying enough attention to notice even a miniscule change. He felt detached in a way, yet completely exhilarated by the experience. He felt powerful, a being of focused energies and attentions captured so completely in his task that none could sway him, yet at the same time fearful. It was the fear that was his safeguard. The day he lost it was the day he got sloppy, the day he got caught, the day he possibly met his death. He was confident, yet not overly cocky. It was so easy for an outsider to mistake the two. He could not. To do so would mean failure, and failure was not an option. It never was for Gambit. Slowly, carefully, he circled around the perimeter of the bank, searching with a trained eye for the perfect entrance. He desperately wished he had blueprints for this place; that would be the smart way to do a B&E, the safe way. Too bad he wasn¡¦t at liberty to be smart or safe. This was a rescue mission above all. An urgent rescue mission that required speed. There... He stopped suddenly, spotting what he was looking for. A small metal door sat, sunken into the back of the bank and tucked away from any casual, passing glance. An entrance most likely used by employees. And therefore an entrance in the immediate vicinity of the alarm system, strategically placed so that employees could quickly disarm it upon entering. Perfect. He could see a camera facing his chosen entryway, aimed so as to record the image of anyone who tried to use the door. No problem. Slipping his bag off his shoulder, Gambit pulled out a small black box that had on it a digital pad and display screen. No lights lit the buttons; that would make the object too easy to spot and threaten the discovery of the thief who used it. Creeping carefully around the range of the camera, Gambit got as close as he could without being detected. After pressing a few of the buttons whose locations he knew by memory, he softly set the object on the ground. A tiny green light blinked only once to indicate that the device was working, and then went dark to avoid attracting attention. If he had shown a flashlight on the display screen, he would have seen tiny digital numbers ticking off seconds, counting down the time remaining before the jamming device stopped doing its job. And what was that job? It froze the last image before the device was activated on the camera, so that no new input could be received. If the footage from the camera was casually reviewed later, it would simply seem as if nothing had changed during the time the little device was working. In reality, Gambit would have gotten in the bank and out, long gone before the camera started working properly again. He stepped back slightly and set his watch to match the countdown the camera would be frozen for. 15 minutes. Plenty of time if all went well. And if it didn¡¦t.... well, he would worry about that as it came. He stepped silently up to the door, staring thoughtfully at it for a moment. His heart pounded a steady quick beat in his chest. It occurred to him that he had absolutely no idea what to expect on the other side. He didn¡¦t know what kind of security this place had, didn¡¦t know whether Sinister had set precautions or not. Slitting his eyes, Gambit placed his gloved hands on the door. The kinetic field that always surrounded him extended outwards, feeling for movement beyond the door. He started on a large scale and then worked his way down, narrowing his field and tightening it. This was not easy for him; to use his powers to detect such subtle movements, but it was necessary. He just hoped he didn¡¦t miss a more obvious sign of danger while he was so lost in concentration. His kinetic field grazed a long stream energy that he guessed was a laser. Normally he could only detect larger, moving objects, but the concentration of the energy allowed the laser to be barely perceptible. He focussed his field on the spot... located just beyond the door. Sweat
pouring down his face, Gambit opened his eyes and came back to reality. He took a moment to reorient himself and then
went to work. Gotta hurry, he thought. Wastin¡¦ too much time. He moved carefully in front of the door as he
pulled out a series of lock picks and other devices from their places
in the many pockets that speckled the black, form-fitting suit he
wore. It was his thieving costume; he hadn¡¦t worn
his traditional X-Men one since Both the digital lock and the manual one were open within a minute, but he didn¡¦t enter right away. Most places had a camera or motion detector guarding the inside of every entrance. The jamming device he¡¦d already used for the other camera should take care of the one on the other side of the door, since the device worked through metal and on a 10-meter basis. But that left the motion detector. Again, he rummaged through his bag, quietly of course, knowing exactly where the device he needed would be. This one was also black, but was very flat, almost paper-thin. He pressed a button and slid it under the tiny crack that separated the door from the ground. That¡¦ll take care o¡¦ de motion detector¡¦if dere is one. Too bad de person who designed dis place didn¡¦ have de foresight t¡¦ make sure de door go all de way t¡¦ de ground, neh? Government¡¦d never be so stupid in one o¡¦ dere secret facilities. Actually, he was surprised the bank had been. It was holding thousands of dollars and besides that it was supposed to be housing one of the greatest enemies the X-Men had ever faced. So what gives? Gambit didn¡¦t have time for idle contemplation. Pulling out two mirrors, he went to work on dealing with the laser. Now he did open the door, but only pushed it slightly, sliding one of the mirrors around the heavy metal to the other side of it, and holding it there. The other he held on his side of the steel structure. He pushed the door a little more. Peering inside, he saw the laser beam, courtesy of the special structure of his unique eyes, and adjusted the mirrors accordingly, so that they would block the bright red stripe that cut across the floor. Then he pushed the door a little more. He went on like this, moving at a pace excruciatingly slow to his thumping pulse, until he had an opening wide enough to squeeze through. The whole process took 3 minutes, and when it was done, he was inside, the door closed behind him, searching for the control panel for the security system. He found it and went to work. Another minute and that threat was also neutralized. Taking a slow, measured breath he scanned the area. He was in a hall, a dark hall. But that didn¡¦t matter to his mutant eyes. What did matter was that there had been no motion detector at all. Only a camera and laser. For some reason that bothered him, and he couldn¡¦t place why. Normally he¡¦d take the absence of a motion detector as a strike of good luck and move on... but tonight? It bothered him and some little voice inside screamed that something was wrong. After scanning the area with his spatial sense and his normal senses to his satisfaction, he simultaneously checked his watch and turned on the communication badge he wore. Nine minutes and thirty seconds left before that camera outside came back on. Plenty of time. Hopefully. There was the quiet sound of static as his communicator started working. It was silver and carved into the shape of an X with a circle around it. ¡¦K¡¦ Stormy, I¡¦m ready f¡¦ ya. Jus¡¦ come in t¡¦rough de employee¡¦s entrance ¡¦round de back. Security¡¦s disarmed... ¡¦cept f¡¦r de cameras, but dat¡¦s taken care of.¡¦ His voice was barely a whisper but sounded incredibly loud in the empty space. ¡¦I understand,¡¦ came the quick, but quiet, businesslike response. Remy had to fight a smirk. He had a feeling that Ororo was unconsciously falling back into the thief mentality from her earlier days. A pinch could do that to you. Though dis ain¡¦t exac¡¦ly a ¡¦pinch¡¦, Gambit mused. They weren¡¦t going anywhere near the vault. Not that this was a job Remy would ever consider taking anyway. He made it a point to only steal from criminals and con men. It didn¡¦t exactly justify his chosen profession, but it eased the pressure on his conscience some. His kinesthetic sense flared to life, alerting him of the wary approach of his teammates. He pushed the door open just in time to move aside and allow Storm and Wolverine to step in. ¡¦Nice bit o¡¦ machinery ya got there,¡¦ rasped the short, stocky, Canadian as he gestured vaguely toward Gambit¡¦s camera jamming device outside. ¡¦Top o¡¦ de line,¡¦ the Cajun answered with a slight grin. ¡¦Dalsbury made.¡¦ The other man nodded appreciatively at the information, and then turned to Storm. ¡¦So? Where to, darlin¡¦?¡¦ ¡¦She is north of our position... maybe 20 meters, and obviously farther underground.¡¦ A few silver strands of hair fell across Storm¡¦s face as she looked intently at the hand held Cerebro. A little gust of wind and they were gone, back in their place. ¡¦Y¡¦ still gettin¡¦ a reading from Sinister?¡¦ Gambit asked, eyeing her curiously. ¡¦Yes, but he is not in the same vicinity as Rogue. I assume he is in another part of his base.¡¦ Gambit took a deep, steadying, breath. He didn¡¦t like this. It just wasn¡¦t right. Sinister wouldn¡¦t allow himself to be detected like this, and, besides that, such detection should be impossible. Cerebro only worked on mutants and Sinister wasn¡¦t a mutant. Which seemed to mean that somebody might be trying to make the X-Men think they were Sinister¡¦but that theory had already been disproved. Wolverine had smelled Sinister¡¦s scent. That couldn¡¦t be easily faked. There was only one other explanation. It was a trap. Simple as that. But they were the X-Men; they always walked into traps on purpose. ¡¦We better be careful,¡¦ Gambit commented. Both teammates nodded in agreement. From their expressions he could see they had come to the same conclusion as he had. Storm glanced up the hall ahead of them. After a few meters it split into three different directions. Each new hallway was guarded by a camera. ¡¦Are they still active?¡¦ she asked, gesturing toward the devices that reached from the ceilings like mechanical appendages augmented with strange, watching eyes. ¡¦Yah,¡¦ he replied. ¡¦Dey¡¦re wired separate from de alarm system. I¡¦d need t¡¦ find de surveillance room t¡¦ turn dem off.¡¦ A grin slithered across his face and his eyes glinted just for a second. ¡¦Y¡¦ want me t¡¦ blow dem up?¡¦ ¡¦No. That won¡¦t be necessary. I have a better way.¡¦ She raised one hand in the air and reached up towards one of the cameras, closing her fist as if she were trying to will it to crush itself. But the camera remained in tact. Instead a small cloud of condensed fog formed around its lens, a thick, white, fluffy cloud that was so thick that Gambit couldn¡¦t even see the camera through it. He looked to the other hallways breaking off at the junction ahead and saw that the same thing had happened to the cameras guarding each of them. ¡¦Show off,¡¦ he accused, amusement playing in the tones of his voice. ¡¦I am simply using the gift of my powers in the best possible way.¡¦ ¡¦Uh-huh. Ssuuuuure.¡¦ Storm ignored his sarcasm with a slight smile and began to walk forward until she reached the place where the hallways split. There she paused. ¡¦I do not know where the stairs are. We need to find them to get to the basement.¡¦ Wolverine walked pass Gambit to stop beside her. ¡¦Look darlin¡¦, we don¡¦t have time ta go wanderin¡¦ around in search of stairs. So either we let Gumbo blow us a hole in the floor here and get to the basement right away and then we look for Rogue¡¦s position, or we get directly over Rogue¡¦s position and then blow our way down. Yer choice. ¡¦Sides, bank probably ain¡¦t even real. It may jus¡¦ be a cover for Sinister¡¦s base.¡¦ Gambit smiled at Wolverine¡¦s suggestion. He could feel the power aching to be released in his fingers. Explosions would be nice. He liked the possibilities. It would be faster and easier that way, and he wanted to get this all over with as fast as possible. The anxiety was slowly building up in him and he figured they had better find Rogue before he burst under the pressure. Storm obviously didn¡¦t agree. She frowned down at the burly man next to her, delicate eyebrows creasing in thought. Finally she sighed heavily, a resigned look in her eyes. ¡¦Fine. We need to get to Rogue as fast as possible. Remy, you can blow us a hole in the floor here. But please try not to make the explosion any bigger than necessary.¡¦ He nodded grimly, realizing suddenly that he didn¡¦t really want to get any closer to confronting Rogue. Then the cards were in his hand, charged up, and released. A loud ¡¦boom¡¦ reverberated through the space as part of the floor collapsed ahead of them. So much for stealth.
The lowest level of the bank was crowded with boxes of old files and papers. Spider webs drifted off the heavy concrete supports and hung in the way of the three figures that moved through it. There was an eerie silence, ominous and oppressive. The kind of quiet that is a precursor to an event of great importance. The kind that means someone¡¦s life is going to change. Permanently. It was cold. Or at least that was what Gambit perceived. It could have just as easily been the chill of locking away all of his emotions, of turning his heart to ice. Ice. How appropriate when he was about to meet the woman who had abandoned him in the middle of a wasteland full of the stuff. He was standing next to Storm and Wolverine staring at a spot on the concrete floor. A rather featureless spot that nevertheless caused every muscle in his body to tense. ¡¦Y¡¦ sure dis de place?¡¦ ¡¦Yes, she is almost directly under us.¡¦ Storm peered at him with a worried expression over the Cerebro unit she was holding. He didn¡¦t notice. His eyes were glued to the floor and his jaw was set, teeth pressed so hard together it almost hurt. ¡¦Y¡¦ wan¡¦ me ta blow up de floor?¡¦ ¡¦Ya sure yer okay, Gumbo?¡¦ Wolverine was also giving Gambit a worried look, though his was a bit less sympathetic and maternal. ¡¦Yeah, jus¡¦ peachy.¡¦ The sarcasm was biting. He looked up to Storm, his questioning gaze restating the question he¡¦d asked earlier. She nodded. Within seconds three cards were in his hand, glowing with pink energy so bright it hurt to look at it. He glanced down at them briefly anyway, some strange curiosity wondering what the faces of them were. He¡¦d always believed in the cards with some dim superstitious part of his mind that abandoned the idea that he made his own fate. Now he wished he didn¡¦t. In his hand were the Queen of Hearts, the Suicide King, and the Ace of Spades. He couldn¡¦t think of a worse combination if he tried. And then he was throwing them, the three cards flying through the air and hitting the floor with deadly precision, just past the spot where Rogue was supposed to be. There was a burst of light and a brief flare that left a neat little hole in his wake. He stared at it for a second. And lost his tenuous control. Gambit dissolved in seconds and he was Remy again, the soul tortured man who both loved and hated the woman he was trying to save. No more facade to keep him rational and calm. No more restraints. Unhindered, he leapt forward into the hole in the floor, not even looking in before he jumped. Remy landed lightly, urgent calls from Storm and Wolverine following him. But he almost didn¡¦t hear them. He was staring at the one obscurity; a narrow bed built into one of the walls, which interrupted the smooth, featureless, steely room. She was unconscious, expression blank in peacefulness. Long, wavy, chestnut hair fell over her shoulders, one sharp stripe of white running rampant through it. It was tangled, rogue strands falling across the face, telling so much about the woman they belonged to. She was clothed in some type of medical gown; the kind of thin white material that fell over every curve and line of the body that wore it. He couldn¡¦t move. He tried¡¦really. But all he could do was stare, until Wolverine¡¦s yells of ¡¦Ya okay, Bub?¡¦ got too loud to ignore. He managed to reply that he was, somehow, through a tight throat that, unbelievably, managed to make his voice sound semi-normal. Carefully, deliberately, Remy forced himself to walk forward, slipping off the trademark trench coat that he wore over his thieving clothes. Slowly, avoiding any contact with her skin, he wrapped the duster around Rogue¡¦s slim body, all the while forcing his mind to remain absolutely blank. It was too dangerous any other way; if he let himself actually register the situation that surrounded him, he wasn¡¦t sure if he would punch her for leaving him or kiss her because he¡¦d missed her so much. Better to keep himself numb for now. Better to transform into Gambit again, holding a cool cloak of indifference and confidence around him for protection. Gambit lifted her easily in his arms, wondering distantly if his pneumonia weakened lungs would take the strain. They did, and he walked back to the hole in the ceiling where Wolverine was now leaning over to watch him. Switching his grip on Rogue, Gambit pushed her up into Wolverine¡¦s grasp, brushing the Canadians hands and allowing him to pull her up into the level above. Wolverine disappeared for a moment with Rogue and then returned to help Gambit up. Soon they were all in the basement of the bank and Gambit was holding Rogue in his arms. And not once had they encountered Sinister. From what Gambit knew of the villain, he was meticulous with security, and, since they were totally ignoring that security by coming in so headstrong, there should be at least half a dozen Marauder clones on their backs be now. Or a secret weapon shooting at them. Or something. But there was nothing, only still, unnerving silence. A silence that lasted even until they were out of the bank and long gone. A crowd gathered around Remy, Rogue, Storm and Wolverine as they entered the mansion, filling the opening room with exclamations and questions. A fuzzy blue shape pushed through the mass of spandex clad people and Henry McCoy emerged, spectacles perched precariously on his nose. Remy looked up from the unconscious woman he held and met Beast¡¦s gaze. ¡¦Why isn¡¦ she wakin¡¦ up?¡¦ Remy demanded a bit frantically. Any harsh feelings he had toward Rogue were momentarily lost in his concern for her unresponsive state. Who knew what Sinister had done to her? Hank¡¦s gaze softened, almost paternally, ¡¦I won¡¦t know until I get her to the medlab,¡¦ he said gently, coaxingly. Remy forced himself to swallow and nodded. He began to walk quickly toward the lifts, following Hank¡¦s lead and ignoring the strain of Rogue¡¦s weight in his arms. The crowd followed with him until Hank turned around and held up his hands to stop them, saying something about needing to have room to work. Remy wasn¡¦t really listening. Within 30 seconds they were in the medlab, all the other X-Men having been chased away by Henry, except for Cecilia, who was wearing a white lab coat. Remy gently laid the woman he carried on the small cot that sat between two other in the room. Unconsciously, he filed the details of the lab away. Most of the normal equipment was gone, but they seemed to have scrounged up the basic supplies. Gauze and a couple of bottles of medicine sat forgotten on a rollaway in the corner and Remy guessed that the cabinets in the room had probably been replenished some too. Hank would never let his lab fall into complete disuse. Remy stepped back out of the way as Henry rushed over with a stethoscope and few other supplies. His big, paws moved with a speed, precision, and ability that seemed impossible for their cumbrous size. Cecilia stood at his side, conversing quietly with him, as she checked Rogue¡¦s blood pressure. Remy dropped into the shadows, forgotten and attempting to stay out of the way. He tried to be quiet and let the doctors work, but eventually the anticipation became too much and he spoke up. ¡¦Henry, what¡¦s wrong wit¡¦ her?¡¦ Beast turned around suddenly from where he was shining a light in Rogue¡¦s eye, as if he hadn¡¦t noticed that Remy was still in the room. ¡¦Umm... I¡¦m not exactly sure.¡¦ He looked slightly embarrassed at his inability to properly assess Rogue¡¦s damage. ¡¦Not exac¡¦ly sure?¡¦ Remy repeated sarcastically. ¡¦You a doctor an¡¦ a genius, neh? Can¡¦ y¡¦ tell when a person¡¦s sick?¡¦ ¡¦She¡¦s not sick.¡¦ Hank answered firmly and a bit defensively. ¡¦Though I can¡¦t say for sure without blood work, which is impossible due to Rogue¡¦s invulnerability. As far as I can ascertain, she is simply... sleeping.¡¦ Remy¡¦s eyes glowed in anger. ¡¦¡¦An dat¡¦s de best y¡¦ can do?¡¦ ¡¦Without the Shiar medical equipment? Yes.¡¦ Hank¡¦s stare challenged Remy to contradict him, but the young man backed down, forcing himself to relax. Eventually, Hank returned his attention to his patient. Remy
stepped back further into the shadows.
He wasn¡¦t helping here, only distracting Hank from taking
care of Rogue, but he didn¡¦t want to leave.
A part of him knew that if he did, he would probably never
come back. Facing Rogue, now that was bad enough, but coming
back and meeting the fear of rejection again? He didn¡¦t know if he¡¦d be able to do that. Then there was the anger that burned inside
of him. Some at Rogue for
leaving him in Then there was the fact that he really didn¡¦t even belong here. He wasn¡¦t an X-Man... That life was over. Once a thief, always a thief. That life was something he had never given up, something he never would. And it conflicted with being a good little superhero. So what was he doing here? Remy stood that way, features taunt and set, thoughts running at a furious pace through his head for a long time. The still woman lying on the hospital bed seemed to reach into his mind and force him to take a good look at himself and consider what he was. The small hope that maybe he could one day belong with these people shattered, almost before he realized it had even existed. The doctors were at a stalemate, seemingly at a loss for what to do next. And Remy couldn¡¦t stand being here so close to Rogue any longer. If he didn¡¦t get away soon he was sure he would burst in an explosion of pent-up emotions and energy. Besides, his mind was made up. Silently, he backed up, slinking out of the room, dropping a small, thin card on one of the unused beds. Nobody even noticed he was gone.
On the way up to the spare room Storm had given him, Remy managed to, by some incredible stroke of bad luck, meet Iceman coming down the stairs. The young man glared at him angrily and Remy could feel the hatred radiating from him, residual smoke from a burning fire. Reflexively, he clamped down on his empathic sense, forcing the sensation out of his mind. By now both men had stopped walking, Bobby halfway down the stairs, Remy at the foot. ¡¦You got a problem, mon ami?¡¦ Remy questioned dangerously. Silently he cursed his bad luck. This was the last thing he needed. Maybe he could just intimidate the boy and manage to get up the stairs without significant opposition. Otherwise, they might as well get the fight over with. ¡¦Yes I do.¡¦ So Bobby was feeling brave today, so much for getting to his room without much trouble. Maybe he just needed to up the intimidation factor. He allowed his eyes to smolder an angry red against their black backdrop, exploiting the glowing effect of his mutation. Bobby flinched ever so slightly, but held his ground. So he wanted to do this the hard way. ¡¦Y¡¦ sure ¡¦bout dat?¡¦ A single card appeared in Remy¡¦s hand, flipping lazily over his knuckles. His stance read casually confident, yet dangerously alert. Remy knew the threat was a gamble; it would either scare Drake into backing down or make him explode. Hopefully, the former would occur. He really didn¡¦t need a fight with an X-Man to punctuate this day. Not that he expected Iceman to be a problem. The boy was usually more talk than anything, to used to being told he wasn¡¦t anything special to have the self-confidence needed to make him a threat. Usually. ¡¦Absolutely
positive.¡¦ A bluish-white
ice slowly crept up Iceman¡¦s legs, spreading over the rest of his
body. ¡¦I¡¦m tired of you coming around here and ruining
our lives. You did it to
Surprise was the only thing that saved Remy from irrepressible anger. This was not the Bobby he knew. This one was... hardened somehow, like he had recently been forced to realize that he could take action when needed, and felt obligated to do so. Like he had been forced to grow up and take charge of his life. Like maybe, he finally knew what it was like to have to take care of himself and others. One thing was for sure; Remy had missed a lot while he was gone. How much damage had OZT done, anyway? Remy realized that there still might be a way to avoid a fight. He just had to catch Drake off-guard, make him momentarily forget about his anger long enough for Remy to get out of the situation. He climbed a few steps closer to Iceman, the other watching him warily. The temperature dropped noticeably several degrees and Remy¡¦s breath came out in puffs of white smoke. A sardonic smile touched the corners of Remy¡¦s lips as he stopped three steps below Drake. ¡¦Don¡¦ bother, homme. I c¡¦n save y¡¦ de trouble. I was jus¡¦ now on my way t¡¦ my room t¡¦ get my stuff, so I could leave, when y¡¦ got in my way. So if you don¡¦ mind, I be goin¡¦ now, hein?¡¦ He climbed past Drake, deliberately pushing into him as he passed. The cold from the contact seeped through his shirt, giving him the sudden urge to shiver. He repressed it. Behind him Iceman was still standing, a bewildered expression on his face, obviously having expected Remy to come at him violently rather than walk away. Remy was in the hall now, stalking angrily through the men¡¦s wing. He¡¦d managed to avoid things getting ugly with Drake; that would have caused more trouble than it was worth, but he just wished everybody would leave him alone. All he wanted to do was get out of here as fast as he could. The emotional strain just wasn¡¦t worth staying for. The stakes were too high. His life was becoming less and less of the game he had always imagined it to be, and that meant it was time to start a new life. He pushed into the room that Ororo had insisted on giving him despite his protestations, and began gathering his stuff. Taking off the small backpack, slung almost forgotten across his shoulder from the B&E earlier that night, Remy proceeded to unpack it and carefully repack the valuable thieving equipment in the appropriate luggage compartments. He could feel the figure walking up the stairs and down the hall long before she entered. Her strides were quick and purposeful, with an extra spunk to them... anger? Probably. The door swung open behind him. ¡¦Remy? What are you doing?¡¦ Yep, she was angry. But there was also something else... hurt or disappointment in her tone. ¡¦Packin¡¦.¡¦ The statement came out more clipped than he had intended, but he couldn¡¦t help it. Why wouldn¡¦t these people just leave him alone and let him leave already? Storm was quiet for a moment. ¡¦Why?¡¦ she asked finally. ¡¦¡¦Cause I¡¦m leaving.¡¦ ¡¦I can see that, but that is not what I meant.¡¦ He didn¡¦t reply, continuing to pack as if she were not even there. She waited for several long hostile moments before prodding further. ¡¦Remy, stop avoiding the question. That does not work with me.¡¦ She managed to sound gentle and compassionate rather than using the scolding and vindictive tone that would have only served to make him shut her out. Pausing, Remy sighed heavily. He couldn¡¦t do this to Ororo, not the only friend who had stuck with him through the good and the bad. She deserved an answer. He turned slowly where he knelt on the floor before his luggage. Red eyes met blue ones and locked. ¡¦We bot¡¦ know I don¡¦ belong here, Stormy.¡¦ His voice was quiet, ringing ominously in the scarcely furnished room. Her gaze turned hard and intense before him, ice blue eyes freezing into a jagged wall of emotion. ¡¦That is the stupidest thing I have ever heard you say Remy LeBeau.¡¦ Pain, frustration, and anger all radiated from the silver-haired woman. ¡¦Is it? Dat why dere¡¦s a woman in de medlab who tried to kill me f¡¦r de secrets she saw in m¡¦ head, an¡¦ half a dozen ot¡¦er X-Men who¡¦d love t¡¦ see me dead too?¡¦ He stared at her, jaw clenched down against the hurt and frustration the sarcastic words expressed. She answered him with angry silence, her regal stance strong and defiant, fighting the stinging truth of what he said. ¡¦I jus¡¦ not X-Men material an¡¦ we bot¡¦ know it. Did too many dark an dirty t¡¦ings t¡¦ live de life of a hero in Xavier¡¦s dream.¡¦ Finally Ororo spoke. ¡¦Remy, there are many other X-Men who have done bad things in the past. You are not alone in your dark background.¡¦ ¡¦No, Stormy, but I¡¦m de one dey see an¡¦ de one dey blame. I¡¦m de one day condemn.¡¦ Silence. He knew he¡¦d hit the nail on the head with that one; the sadness and pain in Storm¡¦s eyes proved that without a doubt. ¡¦Given time they¡¦ll learn to forgive,¡¦ she said quietly, pleadingly, after a short pause. But the statement lacked confidence. ¡¦Non, Stormy. I not de good lil¡¦ reformed angel day wan¡¦ me t¡¦ be, and I¡¦m never gon¡¦ be. Jus¡¦ not who I am.¡¦ His gaze dropped from hers to graze the floor. ¡¦Surely you are not giving yourself the credit you deserve, Remy.¡¦ She seemed to think she needed to defend him against himself. His eyes darted up to recapture hers. ¡¦Dis ain¡¦t self-pity, Stormy. As a certain femme once tol¡¦ me, ¡¦Pity don¡¦t suit ya Remy,¡¦ an¡¦ I inclined t¡¦ agree. It jus¡¦ a matter of fact. I¡¦m a t¡¦ief, not an X-Man. Time we both accepted dat.¡¦ ¡¦The world is never so black and white.¡¦ There were unshed tears in her eyes now, eyes which had glazed over in a pearl white. He noticed the gentle pitter-patter of rain on the roof. ¡¦Non, it ain¡¦t, but dat¡¦s still de bottom line.¡¦ Remy stepped forward then, gathering his dear friend into a hug. Her body was warm against his and provided solace despite the tears that now soaked his shirt. He buried his head in her hair to hide the slight glossiness of his own eyes. This might be the last time he ever saw her, ever held her, and they both knew it. Once he left it would be for good and it wasn¡¦t likely for a thief to cross paths with an X-Man. He forced himself to speak, voice muffled by her hair. ¡¦Bye, Stormy. It was good while it lasted.¡¦ She seemed to understand that the ¡¦it¡¦ referred to the X-Men. ¡¦Do not call me that,¡¦ she managed in return, voice slightly unsteady. He couldn¡¦t help a small chuckle at the old joke, and he admired the grace she had to uphold it in such a painful moment. Backing away, he turned and zipped up his luggage, shouldering the bag and slipping on his dark Raybans. He turned back to the figure in the doorway. ¡¦Good luck, my friend.¡¦ Storm said. There was a resignation there. She didn¡¦t agree with him, he knew. She though that he should stay here and be a hero. But he also knew that she had no ammunition to back up her arguments. He¡¦d tried to be an X-Men and it hadn¡¦t worked... simple as that. Now it was time to move on, to leave all the bitterness and yearning he had behind. Slowly, deliberately, Remy moved past Storm... and walked out the door. Behind him she stood, silent tears falling from the heavens to drip into puddles on the moist ground.
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