Disclaimer: None of these glorious people belong to me. The ultimate heartbreaker.

A/N: I've had the beginning of this on paper for as long as I can remember writing, and I figured it was about time I did something with it. I'm not generally a fan of my first pov stuff, but this seemed to turn out okay. Let me know what you guys think.

Second Chance: I'd like to thank everyone for their input on my other story, but I've hit a rather impenetrable road block. If anyone has any inspiration, any thoughts on there it could go I'd greatly appreciate. E-mail your ideas to me, or just post them on the review page. Thanks again!


A few tears would've been nice. A period of mourning would've been better, but hey, I understand. These are busy people, with little to no time in their lives for bereavement of any kind. But still, I couldn't ignore the thought that maybe if they knew what I'd gone through, the tremendous amount of pain my body had experienced, and still was, maybe there would've been some marker of my life on the property. I had searched the grounds already, it was the first thing I'd done after getting past the security system, which was ridiculously easy considering I'd designed it myself. But the two hours I'd spent doing that had been a waste. My search yielded nothing. No monument, no tombstone, not even a plaque. It was as if I'd never lived here, had never risked my life countless times for something I didn't even believe in. It was intensely frustrating.

My legs were beginning to cramp from the tight position I'd been holding them in, but still I didn't move. Even at a few minutes to midnight, Xavier's Mansion was still bustling with activity. More windows than not showed bright light from within. A small part of me, the same part that had been a little hurt when no one had come back for me, missed the liveliness of the place. Those few times I had wanted company, there was never a lack for it. On a different note, the many more times I wished for solitude, it was nearly impossible to find. But despite the numerous fights I had started, the countless lectures I bore witness to, and the innumerable amount of training sessions I'd slept through, no other place had felt more like home than this one.

I shifted slightly in my arboreal perch; since returning from the southern wasteland most commonly referred to as Antarctica, my frostbite suffering feet were entirely too sensitive. Whether it was the lack of circulation reaching them, or being stuck in my boots for too long, I couldn't be sure, but they were protesting. Loudly. A doctor I had seen in Australia during my return trip from the place of my apparent death had prescribed for me, under the table, a bottle of painkillers as well as a round of antibiotics to fight the pnuemonia that seemed reluctant to leave me. Although I took the antibiotics regularly, I was hesitant to take any painkillers. In my experience, painkillers of any kind have a way of subtly numbing the mind until you don't even realize you're functioning at one quarter your potential. Instead, I uncoiled my legs from underneath me, and stretched them out carefully along the thick branch I had claimed as my own.

The tree I was currently reclined in was far away from the mansion to ensure I wouldn't be detected by any of the extraordinary mutants that resided within, but unfortunately, it was also distant enough to prevent me from seeing actual features instead of just dim outlines of shadow. I could've figured out which minds belonged to all the bodies in varying degrees of activity that could be seen through the windows, but that would require stretching out with my empathic sense. There were many mutants in that mansion that would sense that kind of intrusion. So I held back. Besides, it didn't really matter who I saw in the windows. They were all safe and sound and that was all I needed to know. Wasn't it? At least, that was the reason I gave myself. I wanted to make sure they were doing okay. Regardless of how they felt about me, I had broken my own personal cardinal rule over the years I had spent with them. I had allowed myself to get close. It had always been hammered into me that relationship, contacts to the world, would lead to nothing but trouble. Of course I chose to ignore that. And it was because of that foolish action that I sat in this tree in the darkness of night, watching them through the windows that seperated us. But at that moment, it didn't seem like enough. Stupidly, crazily, I had to get closer. I had to see Stormy's elaborate gardens, had to watch Jubilee's chest rise and fall as she slept, had to feel Rogue's beautiful red hair between my fingertips. It was suicide, I knew, but I jumped down from the tree regardless, and made a point of getting across the wide expanse of lawn as quickly as possible.

It wasn't overly difficult to conceal myself from the expansive selection of mutants in the mansion. My shields had proven themselves over the years; I knew I didn't have to worry about any of the telepaths in the mansion sensing my presence. If they weren't able to do it all those years ago, surely they couldn't do it now. I did have to worry about one mutant in particular, though. A short, bulky, gruff Canadian with a penchant for dealing out pain. Not three minutes in that place and Logan would've smelt me. I didn't exactly exude stink, but Logan's highly sensitive nose could pick up the stuffy leather smell of my jacket, the traces of cigarette smoke on my clothes, even down to the shampoo I had used on my hair the night before. Curiously, I had forgotten to put on aftershave after removing two days worth of stubble from my chin and jaw earlier in the day. It wasn't often that I forgot to do something like that, but at the moment, I was quite thankful I had. To disguise the other rather distinguishing scents that made of Eau du LeBeau, I pulled a pine air freshener out of an inner pocket of my jacket, pulled it out of it's plastic wrapping, and slipped it around my neck. The smell was strong enough to mask anything Logan might have associated with me, making him doubt himself just enough to let me alone. It was risky; I had seen first hand how good the man's nose was. But I was used to taking risks, and it's not like I had much to lose at that point.

I predictably made it to the mansion without incident, and slipped into the darkened sitting room off the equally dark kitchen. The moment I stepped onto the plush carpetting, an indescribable feeling washed over me. It was like a mixture of relief, and contentment, and ...home. I was home. I felt a strange clenching in my chest, and remarkably, tears came to my eyes. It was a sensation I had never experienced before, and for a long moment, I was unable to do anything but stand there and experience it. I hadn't spend much time in this room, but Rogue had. In fact, I would've bet money on it that it was her favourite place on the property. She used to love stretching out on the wicker couch opposite the huge bay window, reading a book and sunning herself like a cat. I know because I used to love watching her. I would stand outside, undercover under the branches of a nearby Elm tree, and just watch her. Sometimes for hours at a time, blowing off training sessions and pre-mission meetings, anything that stood in the way of seeing her look so damn peaceful. She never looked so calm and at peace when I was around, so any chance I had to witness it I exploited. My mind took me back to those days, and for a minute, I could almost see the room lighten, and her form take place on the printed flower cushion. But like so long ago, such a feeling couldn't last. A light clicked on in the adjoining kitchen, and I could hear a female voice singing a melodic tune under her breath. I was immediately reminded of a movie I watched with Jubilee once, some sci-fi deal starring a primetime actor from several years back. Even as I was looking for a place to conceal myself, I could hear the disembodied voice of the film's robot in my head: "Danger, Remy LeBeau! Danger!" I wasn't that crazy about the movie, it was too cheesy and predictable for my taste, but I loved the way Jubilee's head felt on my shoulder when she fell asleep halfway through. It was that feeling I held on to when the light above my head flicked on, and a strangled gasp sounded from the doorway. I turned slowly on my heel, fist clenching and unclenching in sudden anxiety.

Jean Grey stood in the doorway, a startled hand pressed to her lips, staring at me like I had two heads or something. She looked different, I decided, even as she opened her mouth and prepared to let forth the mother of all screams. Brighter, somehow, and then I noticed the swelling of her belly beneath her flannel pajamas. The shriek burst from her lips a second later, and in the confined space I bent forward and pressed my hands against my ears. I should've expected such a reaction, but hell, that's what I get for getting attached to people.

My ears gradually adjusted to the glass shattering sound, and I moved towards her a step, hands held at shoulder height, palms up in an outright show of defense. Her scream was cut off suddenly, and she simpled stared at me, blue eyes widened in shock. Her face had drained of all colour, like she had seen a ghost before her, instead of just an ex-team member. But then I realized, as I heard the kitchen door crash open behind her, that she had seen scarier things in her life than a simple ghost. I was sure she was screaming because she knew it was me, and not some spector, a figment of her imagination or trick of the light. So when Scott appeared in the doorway and took his wife in his arms, and Logan slipped around them and charged at me, I let him take me to the floor in a flying tackle. I let him knock the wind out of me until I was sure I was going to suffocate, I let him kneel on my chest and pin my arms above my head. After all the shit I had been through in the past six months, I didn't have the energy to deal anymore. He could've carved out my innards and served them to me on a silver platter, and I wouldn't have said boo.

I heard a slight whirring behind Logan's endless whispered threats of evisceration, and felt the power of Professor Xavier before actually seeing him. Although I would not admit it under penalty of death, the Professor fascinated me. There was no greater fool than the person who misjudged that man. He was living testament to the saying, "don't judge a book by it's cover." He was confined to a wheelchair, but only in a physical sense. The man had the kind of power most people couldn't imagine, let alone understand. I knew than that Jean's shriek had been just as much telepathic has it had been verbal. The Professor came forward, presumably after assuring Jean was alright, and laid a hand on Logan's shoulder in silent request to let me up. Logan consented, but only after promising me a fate worse than death if I misbehaved. I stood slowly, which was difficult with the Wolverine so close. I was metaphorically skewered with five pairs of eyes, as Bobby had joined the crowd in the past minute. His visage betrayed emotion that seemed to be the consensus; shock, anger, and the lesser seen guilt.

"'Ello, Professor,"I greeted quietly, passively ignoring the other bodies in the room. He held my gaze for a long second, before inclining his head slightly and replying, "I'm relieved to see you well, Gambit."

I could feel my eyebrows nearly disappear underneath my hair. "You are?"

He nodded after a brief hesitation, and a slight smile graced his lips. "I am. The wrong you have commited to this team will not be forgiven overnight, but that does not mean anyone here wishes you harm."

Logan snorted, a sound that suggested Charles speak for himself. The Professor diplomatically chose not to acknowledge it. "That being said, it does beg the question, what are you doing here? I would think that after the events of six months ago, you would not be eager to return."

I felt a blush beginning to rise to my cheeks, but was able to quell it before anyone took notice. I shrugged, trying and almost assuredly failing to look nonchalant. I didn't have anywhere else to go. But to tell these people would be giving them the biggest bargaining chip possible. I was not going to let them know exactly how much they had on me.

"I was in de neighbourhood, t'ought I'd drop by. See how everyone is, enh?" I blatantly looked past Logan and the Professor, staring openly at Jean and her expanding belly. "I see dere is a Fearless Leader junior on de way."

Scott moved toward me, an all too familiar menacing scowl on his face, but Jean stayed him with a hand on his arm. I was barely able to keep in the smirk. If we thought he was whipped before the pregnancy...

"I don't believe you." The mother to be fixed me with a stare of her own, unyielding, and I soon found myself becoming uncomfortable. I cleared my throat, shifted my weight from foot to foot, and eventually looked away. I knew it wasn't possible, but Jean had always given me the impression that she could read a person's thoughts through their eyes. Crazy, I know, but her gaze is just that intimidating.

"Now would be a good time to tell the truth,"Scott said, hands crossed firmly in front of his chest. "What are you doing here?"

I turned my eyes down to the toes of my boots. It would be so easy to lie again. To concoct some elaborate story to explain my presence; I'd done it before, and certainly couldn't call it a challenge. But in a strange turn of events, I felt like I owed these people more. The whole time I'd known them I'd done nothing but lie to their faces. Maybe things should be different now, maybe they deserved the truth. If I really wanted to come back here, be part of this team again, then I was going to have to make an effort. And that meant doing some things I wasn't entirely comfortable doing.

"Dere's nowhere else f' moi,"I muttered, without lifting my eyes from the floor.

If I had've looked up at that point, I would've seen the starburst smile flash across Jean's face. I would've seen the way she quieted Scott's and Logan's protests with her eyes. As it was, I only became aware that she had done anything when I felt the feather light touch of her hand on my arm. She wrapped her fingers around my wrist, and pulled gently, towards the kitchen.

"Welcome home, Remy,"she said softly.