Part One Secrets of the Past

Remy woke up with a start. His body was wet from cold sweat that ran down his chest, and his breath was like a marathon runner who had just finished a race. His chest rose up and down erratically as he felt his own breathing slowed down to a manageable rate.

Something had woken him up. Maybe a dream, but he wasn't certain. Remy quickly switched on the table lamp. Light spilled from the side table. His eyes scanned the room for anything out of place. None.

Remy began to hear voices. At first he thought it was the wind howling, but as it became louder he was sure it was right inside his head. And he was sure he was going crazy.

"…jour de colère que ce jour-là,…"

The voices were sweet and cloying at the same time. Remy covered his hands to his ears and ceased all movements. Hoping for the voices to stop.

"…où le monde sera rèduit en cendres…"

"Stop."

"…selon les oracles de David et de la Sibylle…"

"Stop."

"…quelle terreur nous saisira…"

"STOP."

"…lorsque le Juge viendra pour tout… examiner rigoureusement!… jour de colère que ce jour-là,…"

"STOP!! Stop dis instant!"

The voices did stop as sudden as they had started. Remy closed his eyes tightly for an instant then opened them again. A long moment later he chuckled nervously to himself. "Dis is a dream and I'll wake up and it's morning," he said with a cheerful voice. His expression wasn't so.

He did fall asleep later on with the lights on and he woke up to a warm winter morning, the sun shining through the window and Remy was sure last night had been a strange nightmare. He slowly padded into the bathroom to wash himself, whistling to himself.

After he had splashed water onto his face and stared at the mirror he noticed something was fixed at the upper right corner. He pulled it off and stared at it, his face immediately an amalgam of fear and loathe and anger. It was a tarot card with the image The Hermit on it.

"Pierre de Trois." His voice was filled with bitter hatred when he uttered out the name.

Outside X-Mansion a lone figure was standing opposite the entrance to the mansion. His hooded sweater gave no further identity, but his exposed mouth displayed a wide, malign grin that vanished instantly.

His presence had been announced to the man he had crossed the ocean for, and he knew it. He could taste his anger and fear like he could taste blood in his mouth. A drop appeared at one corner of his lips and he licked it away almost lustily, then walked away.

Rogue plonked down beside Logan who was making vigorous sit-ups. She watched him doing it a few times until Logan got irritated and stopped. He was barely out of breath, yet his perspiration showed he must have repeated ten sets or more. "What is it now? Remy goin' out behin' ya ass agen?"

"I wish," Rogue replied, sitting cross-legged. "He's sulky and snappy and strangely quiet today. Pretty much like you."

Logan made a face. "Thanks for remindin'." He pulled himself up to a sitting position, facing Rogue. "Now, what's the matter?"

Rogue shook her head. "I dunno, Logan. First I think maybe he's sick, but even Emma cannot pull a long face for two straight hours. Then he seems jerky and all shook up. Nervous. Like a deer in a hunting season."

"Maybe an ole friend of his drops by and Don Remy tries to hide from her," Logan said without reserve. A painful whack! landed on his thigh. "Ow!" He yowled, then growled at her.

"Are you listening? Remy looks nervous! I ain't seen him looking this nervous before!"

"Did you ask him why?" Logan wiped his sweaty face with a white towel, his hair a massive mess.

"I tried, but he only smiled and smiled each time that it drove me mad. He even smiled when I said he's a big bonehead with nothing but big talks and small dick."

Logan recalled the time when he had said similar things to Remy's face. He almost got a charged stone buried in his head for that. "Wow. That's serious."

Rogue nodded passionately. Remy can fool around, but not with anything that had to do with his maleness. "Can you talk to him?" she asked Logan.

"Huh? Me talk to that Cajun?" Logan started to rise. "Ya better ask Cyke. He's more… gentle."

"But," - Rogue also started to rise - "I already did."

Logan hated to ask her this. "And…?"

"He got pissed off and left Remy alone."

"Ask Bishop."

"He's out."

"The Professor." Logan's voice became harder by the minute.

"He's busy."

"Ororo."

"Went out with Bishop."

"Jean!"

"Teaching."

"Emma - "

"Remember what Remy did to her skirt last week?"

"Hi guys." Jubilee's voice came from the other end of the room. "What's so exciting this morning? Logan, here's your juice, Mel's made it fresh for you. And Rogue, you - why are you staring at me like that?"

Jubilee approached the man she knew as Remy LeBeau cautiously. Sparks seemed to emanate from every inch of the tall man as he lazily lounged at the windowsill. She had only spoken to him now and then, but Logan (damn him!) and Rogue had asked her to pry into what was in his mind right now.

"Uh… Remy?"

"Hmmmm?" It seemed like she had disturbed him from a daydream. "Oh, it's you, cheré. Come, sit." He patted a space beside him. The window was large, but he filled two-thirds of it. Suddenly Jubilee felt like a dwarf. She sat down at the indicated spot. After a long uncomfortable silence, Jubilee asked:

"So, what's up?"

Remy turned and smiled that famous lazy smile of his. But Jubilee sensed something was missing in the smile. She braved herself to ask again. "You're looking kinda down, Remy. What's wrong?"

Still smiling, he shook his head, the voluminous red-brown hair moved along. "Non, cheré. Just a down day for Gambit."

She noticed his left hand played with something that resembled a card. Saying, "Let me see that," she took it from him and scrutinized the card. Her eyes narrowed now and then before she exclaimed:

"I know this! It's what we girls always play with Melinda whenever she's free. She's like a gypsy, you know, and she tells us our fortunes with these cards. This here's Hermit, a loner. Melinda taught me that this is a good card, depends on the circumstances."

"Everything's like dat, ain't it?" Remy mused, his dark eyes focused in another dimension. "Is it one of her cards?"

Good, he's talking. "Well, no. But this card means you'll have to detach yourself from the material world in order to gain inner knowledge… or so Melinda says." She stared at the card for a while before she gave it back to Remy. "I don't believe it, but it's rather fun, though."

Remy was silent now. Staring intently at the card, Jubilee saw it began to glow with the familiar reddish hue. "Now why would you want to waste that card? That's a good card. Even the number's nine, a multiple of three."

The reddish hue immediately ceased. Remy darted a confused glance at her. "Come again, cheré?"

"The card's number is nine. There," she pointed at the lower part of the card. "In Roman numbers. 'I' and 'X'. Nine."

She looked up at him, smiling. He was still inexpressive. Suddenly like a midnight sun his countenance changed in a blink. He smiled.

"Before anyt'in' else, can you promise me somet'in'?" he said, his voice low and hushed.

"Promise you what?" Jubilee had said, her heart beating away like a runaway train.

"Dat not'in' of what I'll say to you will you tell it to anyone else."

She had promised to tell Logan whatever she could find out from Remy. "What is it?"

"Promise?" His voice became a bit hard.

They got me into this, thinking that I'm just a baby with fireworks shooting off my fingers. I'll show'em I'm a grown-up, too. She smiled widely. "Oui, monsieur."

Remy smiled back nervously, uncertain what he had gotten himself and this guileless girl into.

Warren was outside, flying. He landed upon the roof and sat there, enjoying the cool morning air. There was a swish and he saw Bobby supported by icy pillars rose up there to meet him.

"What are you doing here?" he asked Warren. "It's cold."

"Like you care." Warren made a face. "I'm just sitting here, practising my flight. It's been a long time since winter. My wings feel rather heavy after keeping them folded for months." He flapped them, making a slight draught around himself. "Now it's much better."

"Hey, that's Mel, isn't it?" Bobby said, his eyes at the far east corner of the mansion compound. Warren turned and squinted. He nodded. "Yeah… who's that guy talking to her?"

"I never knew she knew someone outside. Didn't she tell us she had no relatives?"

Warren stood up. "Come on. Maybe it's an old friend of hers. If I were her I'd hate people snooping around my personal life."

"But - I think that guy's - "

"Bobby. Drop it."

Logan stumbled upon Jubilee who had just talked with Remy. "Hey, hey, kiddo." He managed to grasp her by the shoulders and turned her around. "So, what's eatin' Remy?"

"Nothing." Jubilee wished he couldn't smell her fear. "Really. Nothing. He's feeling kinda down 'cause he bet on a horse last night and it didn't win." The best lie she could come up with, period.

"Oh, is that it? No wonder that Cajun's so down."

"And he also said if possible, stay out of his sight for about a week or so. Everything reminds him of horses these days." Jubilee thought how much longer she could put up a straight face lying.

"He didn't borrow any money from anyone, did he?"

God, when will he stop!? "No, Logan he didn't and I wish you left me alone!"

Noticing her outburst, she quickly apologised. "Now will you excuse me, I have a class to attend." She quickly ran down the hall. Logan wondered briefly why the things she said didn't quite ring a bell.

Of course. It was Saturday.

Remy paced around the room. The words he heard last night had suddenly sprung into his mind again. Now he tried to think where did he hear the words before. He said the words aloud as he paced restlessly around.

He had forgotten to close the door tightly and in came Hank. "Remy…?"

Remy almost jumped out of his skin. Two times in his life he ever felt like that. Now was the third. "Hank, mon ami! You want me dead?"

Hank was surprised to see the change on Remy's face. He looked tired and there were dark circles under them. Normally his hair was a casual mess, but now it was a real mess. Seemed like he had been running his fingers through them a million times. What intrigued Hank were his eyes. They look almost haunted.

"What's wrong, Remy? You look like a shadow of your former self. And just now I heard you said things I never expect from a man like you."

Remy ceased his pacing. "What do you mean?"

"Well, as a good friend, I say it's funny to hear you quoting sacred verses from messe des morts. Mass for the dead. You are not the type, in my humble opinion, to know such things, let alone saying them in perfect order."

"If you're saying Gambit's not religious, oui, Gambit's not religious." Remy stood there, his cigarette dangling from one hand.

Hank went on explaining, as though Remy had asked him to. "…jour de colère que ce jour-là,… où le monde sera rèduit en cendres,… selon les oracles de David et de la Sibylle… in Latin, this part of Sequenz is called Dies irae. It expresses mortal fear of the day when the Final Judgment comes and the Judge - God himself - comes down to judge mankind."

"So,… dis Dies irae. Does it mean anyt'in' else?"

Hank noticed the way Remy's finger that held the cigarette shook. "Are you all right, Remy? I can give you something to ease you up." His voice was full of concern.

"Non, non, mon ami. You've been good enough. Now tell me, is dere any other meaning to dis… words?"

"Except total damnation, I can tell you nothing else. Why are you suddenly so interested in this?"

Remy smiled, a nervous smile. "For de record, Hank? I suddenly feel confessional and fearful. But don't ask any further dan dat. D'accord?"

His eyes became more and more haunted each time he smiled. Hank began to deeply wonder what has gotten into the usually cheerful mind of Remy LeBeau. "Sure, my dear friend. It's up to you."

Remy nodded, and he fumbled with the cigarette. It fell down on the carpet, which he quickly scooped up and clamped between his shaky tight lips. Remy gave Hank another sardonic grin that Hank could only swear sardonic enough to fit the Grim Reaper.

Hank tried one last time. "I can give you something to ease whatever's you got in your mind, Remy. And I won't ask questions and tell no one about it." A discrete approach.

Remy shook his head. "Always de good monsieur le docteur, n'est-ce pas?" It was said with a dismissal tone.

Hank left Remy's room feeling more intrigued than ever.