Summary: Gambit gets a Kingly gift he did not expect. Part 15 of the Game.
Rated M for profanity, violence and some sexual content.
Disclaimer : I do not own the X-men or any of their associated villains, but the Siskans, the Dognan, Jael and the Outkasts are mine. Please do not use them without my permission. Thanks. :)
Updated 10-29-13 to add (break)s as needed and the usual fixin's.
(One)
I thought I was lost, but instead I was found by someone I did not expect. Kimble's Angel has rescued me and saved me from oblivion and despair. Kimble may be far from me, but his angel child will help me. She will see me though this and we will do this together. I made my pledge to her and it is one I will not fail to keep.
Inspired now, I look back on my dreams and run through those images I have stored in my mind. Unlike humans, I can access past dreams in the form of files. This doesn't mean they are any clearer to me than when I dreamed them, but sometimes, if I can focus enough, I can pull snapshot images from those streaming movie-like torrents of information. Some things I know I must face for certain – the tarmac, my precious Angel, and someone carrying a bladed weapon. It is not enough to tell me what will happen or what I must do to fulfill my mission, I must know more. I must keep Angel safe and this I will do.
So I do my duty as surrogate guardian angel and replay the images I do have over and over again in my mind. I have to know where to begin and so I start with the tarmac. I pull it up and review it. Now that I know where to begin, I can hopefully dig out a little more. I stand now in my Black Room, the image of the tarmac materializing before me through my oversized window. It becomes a door and yes, at my feet is a shimmering blue arrow. I step through and immediately see another, directing me towards one of the guard shacks or out and away.
Instead of deciding which way to go right away, I take a moment to really see where I am at this moment. This particular guard shack is familiar. It is the one just above the Lab, where Kimble and I used to sun ourselves during our confinement in the blue doctor's medical bay. I will have to make sure I stay close by that stairwell there as much as I can. I don't know when I will be called to perform my sacred duty, so I want to be ready.
I have to believe there is a reason I'm being shown all this. The thing is, now that I'm here in front of the guard shack, what am I supposed to do? I breathe deep and go forward, stepping inside the shack and not out towards the desert.
As before, I am rewarded with another stream of images. It's there and gone quickly but it's not a correction, this time at least I made the right move. I have to be inside this shack at some point in time. The new images I see are jumbled and out of order I suspect. They aren't making much sense, you see.
I see a man with long streaming red hair, his eyes wild and his mouth full of malice and anger. He holds two great leashes in his hands, restraints for two large beasts. They are lions, or I think that is what they are trying to be. It doesn't take long for me to see that they were once men, great fine examples of men. They wear the black stretch pants as their Master does, but that is more for some sign of dignity, and it is all they get. Both are golden haired and rippling with powerful muscle, their legs bent and crooked like dogs, their mouths pushed out in snouts with long sharp fangs. Their hands are clawed, long daggers of death that glint with malice in the sunlight, promising slaughter. Both are roaring, howling with excitement at the top of their lungs, eager for blood and mayhem. I shiver at the sight of them, they are surely devils from the Chuckfet version of Hell. What else could they be?
I see a puddle of golden liquid forming on hot asphalt, shimmering and bright, like heaven itself poured out on the ground. It sings of great mysteries and power. It terrifies me beyond belief.
I see Wolverine covered in blood and gore, flailing out with his arms, blades out and creating his own red swath of destruction as he makes his way towards three huge Dognan Command ships that loom in the smoky distance.
I hear a phone ring and the murmur of voices –
"You goan' get dat?"
"Nah, it's just the auto check in. Leave it."
I see an image of an army standing out on the tarmac. They are dressed in stark black uniforms nicely cut to fit their well trained, athletic bodies. This army is strange and powerful, diverse in their many forms. There are the winged ones, the ones of many colors, their skins are red and green and purple. I see some that should be monsters, some that are as beautiful as the sun. Men and women and even some children, all united with a single purpose.
Their uniforms have a strange symbol on them, an X in a circle. I feel a strange surge of pride when I look at that symbol on their arms. They are one moment strong and powerful, confident. Then something happens out of my view and someone among them screams in fear - a woman flees, back the way she had come. Someone shouts after her, but Wolverine screams at them to hold fast. This thing isn't near over, it has only just begun. It doesn't hide his own terror, it shakes his voice, makes it crack.
I see a body of pure white, lying broken on the ground and a child running towards it – Kimble's Angel, I know that now. The sight of her brings out the same reaction in me every time. I leave the shack in a rush, holding my arms out towards her.
The moment I step out the correction happens.
This is what will happen if you fail!
I scream in mental agony as I am bombarded with more images, but ones that are not so vague. It's the usual - blood, gore, the screams of the dying, burned out cities and an exploding world that will no longer exist. The message is clear - I am not to rush out, this is not my mission. I am to save her but not at that instant.
Yeah, all right. I'm cool with that - for now. If the Spirits plan for me to watch her die they will be sadly disappointed. I will not allow it. Not now, not ever again.
(break)
Remy leaned against a tree, looking down over Kimble's globe. He and Molly had brought Angel down to the Solarium this morning, going through the motions of giving Angel a visitation with her father. Kimble was still in his self imposed exile, neither the garden-like atmosphere in the Solarium nor a couple of days of blissful sunshine had managed to rouse him.
Angel was being a real trooper, however. She took in Kimble's condition with the same determination as she did any other fit her Siskan had taken. She brought toys with her, laying out her teddy bears around the frosted sphere and leaning against it companionably. She chatted away as though Kimble could hear her, reminding Remy of those who stubbornly spoke to comatose patients in the hope they would eventually respond. She was giving Kimble the daily news.
"... and now Uncle Remy said that Auntie Molly has two babies inside of her! Two! And they're a boy and a girl! I can't wait until they come out, daddy! I hope they have red eyes like Uncle Remy 'cause they're so pretty..."
Remy chuckled in spite of himself. He had woken in a low mood, exhausted from all of this. Kimble was being stubborn and not coming out, and Aiden'd had another nightmare overnight. The boy had tried to be quieter about it, but he was clearly just as upset as himself with all of the goings on. Max had stayed over as well on Logan's orders, for Angel's protection. Max wasn't complaining, Remy had plenty of beer and let him watch whatever he wanted on the TV, it sure beat standing out in Aiden's hallway or hanging out guarding Logan's holding cells. Remy enjoyed the company, and Molly never complained about the full house, but none of it gave Gambit any comfort.
Kimble wasn't coming out. No amount of talking had roused him, no visits from loved ones inspired him to leave his shell. Because of this, a sort of routine had been set up for Kimble's care. The globe would be brought out here to the Solarium during the day and then brought back to the holding cell at night for safekeeping.
Remy wasn't sure what to expect from Angel, this was her third visit out here to Kimble's globe and she still didn't seem upset that he continued to hide. Gambit watched as she leaned in closer to the bubble and said in a secretive whisper, "Daddy, Carrie says that storks bring little babies to your house, but I don't believe that. A stork couldn't make it down here and I can feel the vibrations from Molly, too. The babies are already here. I think they come from when Uncle Remy hugs Molly so much, don't you? I mean, he does it all the time!"
Remy glanced up at his wife, seeing her own embarrassed, suppressed laughter. Molly was bright and beautiful this morning, warm in the captured sunlight. Her shine was sparkly and bright, she had slept well in spite of Aiden's noise. She smiled her happiness on him and signed at him quickly, From the mouths of babes.
He laughed at her joke, but it didn't keep him from hearing Angel giggle again. "I think so, too," she said to the bubble, an obvious response to something only she had heard.
Gambit's amusement turned into surprise. He cocked an eyebrow in curiosity and addressed the child, "You can 'ear 'im, petite?"
She looked up at him like he was an idiot. "Of course. Can't you?"
Well, that hurt. He shook his head in quick, irritated negation. "Non. 'E closed to me."
"It's okay," Angel was quick to reassure, sensing his discomfort. "Daddy says that it's just too noisy out here. He wants to stay in the quiet."
Remy nodded and looked away from both his wife and the child, still quietly wounded. He knew he should be taking some relief at her words, she was, after all, confirming what Aiden had written. Kimble had checked out, but only for a while. When he was ready – if he ever was – he would come out on his own. What was most troubling to the thief was admitting that while Kimble's body was still here, his mind and playful laughter were gone, leaving a startlingly painful vacancy. Remy missed his friend terribly, like part of himself had been removed. It was a hard thing to admit with his wife standing right next to him, his beloved, but it was true that there was a small part of him that Kimble had claimed forever. Some little bit of him that had never surrendered to anyone else. That little piece of himself was crying now, a little bleed that wouldn't stop nagging at his heart.
Adding to his misery was that every time he looked at Kimble's globe, it was a solid reminder of his failure. All this time, when he had thought he could actually help his friend, he was just kidding himself. The hurt ran deep and left a small mark of cruelty on him. He couldn't help himself but take some small measure of satisfaction that Aiden hadn't gotten Kimble out either. He knew it was wrong to feel that way, that it was best to keep Kimble's interests in mind, but some small miserable part of himself still felt pleased by it.
Aiden was just as miserable as his keeper. He kept up his work for Logan but was no longer allowed near the holding cells, no big surprise there. Back at Remy's apartments the Dreamer stayed very close to Angel and the two got along famously, instantly old friends. He was taking his sign language lessons in stride, learning rapidly and was now able to understand Molly fairly easily. After supper, Aiden was subjected to the indignity of an Angel tea party with all of the teddy bears and Barbie dolls, but he took it like a trooper, wearing with pure Siskan pride a horrifyingly pink big floppy hat Angel had stuck on his head, ignoring the less than amused smirk on Max's face as he watched. Aiden's devotion to his new Mistress was complete, an obvious compensation for Kimble's loss.
Remy shifted, feeling the tightness in his thigh. Aiden's little blast of Morrowhiem had done wonders for it. Just the one touch and already it was bearable for him to walk without crutches if he didn't go too far. The limp was heavy if he pushed too hard, but for the now, the pain made him feel good in a sick, self deprecating way. He almost understood Kimble's nobility in his suffering, in his desire for pain when he saw the agony of others who were in danger on his behalf, his own sick punishment for his failures. Remy closed his eyes on another wave of self loathing and felt his chest tighten just a little. Lord, he was miserable.
"You okay, Uncle Remy?"
Remy looked down into Angel's tawny eyes and managed a smile for her. "Oui, petite. Je suis, bien. Jus' a little tired, hien?"
She blinked at him, her disbelief plain, but he was spared from having to lie to her any further by the ringing of his cell phone. He turned from her, looking at the ID, and squinted in confusion. It was an outside call, from Westchester no less.
Just after Jael's attack, a small crew had been placed at the site of the ruined Xavier Mansion in New York, there to determine if it was feasible to restore the place or to just let it fall into rot. While he knew some of the people who had been sent there, he couldn't fathom why any of them would need to contact him. Expecting anything and nothing at all he answered, "Bonjour?"
"Heya, Remy, it's the Thing!"
Gambit couldn't help but smile at the joke. Malcolm Tilbert was a student from one of his training classes who had been sent out to the site for a little field experience. He was very young, a teenager, and his mutation was the ability to turn his body into a solid, rock like substance. As a private joke, Gambit had taken to calling him The Thing, after a member of the Fantastic Four who had a similar ability. The boy was also very excitable and tended to say everything in one long sentence, amazing that the kid never passed out from lack of oxygen. " 'Eh? What you want, Thing?"
"You're not gonna believe this but there's some weird cat guy here he came in a spaceship - like I never thought I would ever see that! — he kinda looks like Maylee so I thought maybe you'd be interested he's got some kind of crate here said it was a special delivery for Mister Remy LeBeau from some guy named Trishnar a spaceship it was all silver and shiny like the Dragon, hey, do you think maybe it came from the same place!"
"Trishnar?" Remy exclaimed excitedly after a moment of quick minded deciphering. Dat boy's gonna run outta air someday and keel right over! " 'E say what's in de box?"
"No. Only that he's supposed to deliver it to you personally and he won't leave until you get here. You gotta come out here and check it out."
"Got dat right. 'Old de fort, m' gonna be dere in an 'our."
Malcolm continued to babble unabated. "A spaceship hey do ya think maybe he'll let me ride in it it's all shiny and silver!"
"Maybe if you ask 'im nice. Now, I gotta go -"
Malcolm wasn't even listening. "You gotta see this thing it's huge like a whole army of guys could fit in there he seems real nice this cat guy and the box is kinda big boy it sure looked heavy you'd think if they could build a ship like that they could make a box lighter if you know what I mean -"
"Malcolm!" Remy snapped, violently interjecting around his own laughter. It was the only way to get a word in edgewise with this kid.
Malcolm broke off, startled. "Uh, what?"
"You gotta take a breat', fils. 'M gonna come out dere. I can't do dat if you tie me up on de phone. Do me a favor an' don't talk de guy's ear off 'fore I get a chance to get dere, d'accorde?"
Malcolm laughed, "Okay! See ya!"
"Au revoir," Remy clicked off, trying to swallow the lump in his throat. Trishnar was sending him something? After all this time? The possibility of what that might be remained unsaid even in his own mind. He wouldn't dare to allow himself the hope. His fingers moved quickly, dialing Fallen's extension before he could voice to that thought.
(break)
"What do you mean he's gone!" Logan roared.
The feral man was standing at his desk, his eyes red with fury. Rogue stood in front of him, her hands on her hips and not the least bit intimidated, she had seen him like this too many times. One advantage of being relatively invulnerable was that she was one of the few who had nothing to fear from Logan, even at his worst. Being so blessed — or cursed, depending on your point of view – she had gotten the dubious job of informing her boss that his half brother Kristalay was nowhere to be found.
"Well now, don't be yellin' at me, boss. Ah didn' take him!"
"Where's Jerry?" Wolverine demanded, backing down just a little. Jerry had been on duty in the holding cells overnight and responsible for covering all the prisoners. It was now early morning and here it was, bad news at the start of the day.
"He's all passed out at his desk. Thomas is tryin' to wake him, but it looks like he's been drugged or somethin'. It don't look serious, just that he won't wake up. We put in a call to Henry to come look at him not even a minute ago and Ah came right here to tell you."
Wolverine growled, running a hand through his hair. This was not the way he had wanted to start his day. "All right. I'm gonna go down there and check this out. Meantime I want you to grab all the recordings from last night's tapes."
"Right, boss."
Logan left her to it and made his way down to the holding cells. He couldn't believe that Sabretooth was capable of getting out of here, not on his own anyway. Well, there was going to be hell to pay by the sick fuck who dared to pull this off.
He slammed open the door to the holding cells and watched as Thomas jumped from the noise. The kid was standing over Jerry's limp body, trying to shake the man awake. Logan came close and gave Jerry a sniff, expecting some kind of sedative. He wasn't disappointed, he could smell some sort of chemical residue, something he couldn't identify but Henry would undoubtedly have a name for. Jerry was down deep and wouldn't be coming up for a while. Oddly, it didn't even look the guy had put up a fight, nothing was disturbed on the desk and he had no defensive wounds. Jerry was a top level telekinetic, impossible that someone could get the jump on him so easily.
Just like Jennah.
No! Wolverine banished the thought quickly. Jennah had been killed and then harvested, Jerry was untouched. This couldn't possibly be the same thing.
Logan growled and turned to the holding cells, freezing instantly when he saw the faintest traces of footprints leading down the hall. This floor was kept quite clean, but his ever so keen eyes could discern traces of red dirt from outside, dirt left in the pattern of two horrifyingly familiar bare feet. A couple of the prints were marred by his less perceptive teammates, but there was no mistaking the size and shape of what he was looking at.
"No fuckin' way!" he snarled under his breath and moved quickly down to his half brother's cell, half expecting to see Kristalay's mutilated corpse even though he had already been told the man was clean gone. The empty bed greeted him, the barred door open without damage. Impossible that this was done without raising any alarms and with no one seeing it. Oh, someone was going to pay and dearly.