Chapter 1
Logan stood at the prow of his ship. It was beautiful, enormous, and loyal to all those it carried. He looked out over the water, shielding his eyes from the glare that bounced off its surface. The whole sea was glowing orange due to the sunset. It was stunning, as if the whole thing had caught fire. But he wasn't in the mood to appreciate it. All its glory was lost to him, and he was focusing all his attention on one thing. He'd lost a crew member recently, and he was going to get the man back if it was the last thing he did. No one threatened him, or his ship, or the people on it. Not while he was captain.
He thought about the missing crewman. Scott.
Scott was too young to be dead, Logan wouldn't accept it. The guy was in line to be captain, too. A wonderful, sturdy first mate. He was always optimistic, keeping the crew's spirits up, ready to do good. And he was gone.
"Captain!"
Logan snapped out of his thoughts and turned to face Katherine, whom the other crewmates fondly called Kitty. "Yes, Lieutenant."
"Evan found something below deck, thought you might want to take a look," Kitty said, gesturing to the stairs.
"Might I?" Logan replied. He wasn't really in the mood for their antics right now.
Kitty nodded, looking grave. "It's left from… they left it," she said vaguely.
But Logan knew all he needed to. "Lead the way," he commanded, and they left the deck.
Upon reaching the room where Evan was, Logan found a few other crewmates already gathered around. "Evan? What've you got?"
Evan turned, a grim expression on his face. He held out his hand. Between two of his fingers was a single playing card, smudged with blood. An ace of hearts.
Logan clenched his jaw. "How did we let this happen?"
"Scott?" asked Evan. He was one of the youngest on the ship, and he was full of energy. If anyone was to act rashly, it would be him.
Logan tried to hide his anger so as not to spark anything unwanted in the young one. "Any of this, all of this pirate shit. Charles entrusted me with the Blackbird so I could stop this sort of stuff, not become another victim. We're going to get Scott back. And then I'm personally going to run that dirt-worth captain through." Hiding any emotions wasn't his strong suit.
Evan's eyebrows lowered. "I'm with you, Captain. I want to see that card flipping scumbag dead."
Standing off to the side, Kitty narrowed her eyes. She hated pirates as much as the rest of them, but she also hated violence, and when she signed on to the crew she wasn't signing up for a revenge mission. And yet, now she felt anger, almost will to hurt someone, because she'd become attached to the crew and she wasn't about to let someone just take one of them and get away with it.
The door opened. Jean stepped in. Even in the dim lighting, it was easy to see that she'd been crying again. Her eyes were rimmed with red and there were still tears clumped in her long eyelashes, clogging her vision. "Got a plan?" Her voice was rough, and there was none of her usual sympathy showing in her face.
"Jean, I think it's best you sit this one out," Logan said, turning to face her. She was too emotional, and that would weaken her. Another loss wasn't what he wanted out of the rescue.
"No." She gritted her teeth. "I'm not going to- you can't expect me to wait down below while you go get Scott back. I want that captain's blood on my hands, I want to hear his last words." Her voice was shaking and her face was a mask of stone cold fury.
Logan sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. He knew that Jean had been close to Scott, that they'd grown up together. He wasn't about to get in her way. "Can possibly I stop you?"
She shook her head briefly, her lips pressed together. "Sorry, Logan."
"No apology necessary. You deserve this more than any of us, I just didn't want you getting hurt." Logan turned, climbing the stairs back to the deck. While they were below, night had fallen. The moon reflected off the water, leaving a silver stripe in the blackness. He looked out into the dark, as if he could see the pirates right in front of him. "We're coming for you, Scott. We're coming."
"Good morning. Or should I say bonne nuit? You've been out a while, it's dark now."
Scott slowly opened his eyes, trying to shake off the water he'd just been doused in and groggily realizing he'd been tied up. He tried to focus his eyes, despite his headache, on the man in front of him.
"I'll give you a minute, you've certainly been through the mill."
Scott gritted his teeth. "You're a pirate."
The man laughed one time, a scorning chuckle. "Bright one, eh?"
"You're their captain," Scott continued, ignoring the rude comment.
"Right again," muttered the man, raising his voice in sarcastic surprise.
"You're infamous, Logan was tracking you down," added Scott, piecing together a profile on the man. "Everyone knows of you. Everyone fears you, either that or they worship you. You're the prince of thieves, the pirate king."
"I'm not letting you out just on flattery, I'll have you know," the captain said, under his breath.
Scott gritted his teeth, but let the comment roll off. "It's not flattery, that's nothing to be proud of. No one knows your name, not the people I've talked to. But they give you their own. Do you know what they call you?"
The man turned, from where he'd been looking out through the top of the brig, a grating leading to the deck. He crouched down so that he was at eye level with Scott, who'd been chained to the wall. "What do they call me, cher?"
The pirate captain smelled like exotic spices; cumin, cinnamon, cayenne, nutmeg; and Scott tried to push himself away but found the wall at his back. "Gambit," he spat. "They call you Gambit."
"I know," the captain whispered. "And do you know why?"
"Cards," Scott replied, forcing the word out through clenched jaws. "You leave cards."
"Right again," murmured the captain, leaning even closer.
Scott felt his heart rate pick up. He really didn't want to be hurt, not right now, not when he couldn't fight back. He was a bit dizzy from dehydration, and the dark, smoky room mixed with the pirate's ethnic perfume of spices made for a thick, heavy atmosphere to think in. All he knew was that something bad was going to happen. Maybe he'd be killed right now.
But no. The captain reached into his coat and brought out a card. King of hearts. He held it up. "Whenever I take a ship, I leave one of these. So that when her majesty's fleet shows up and finds her, they know it's my doing. I left her captainless. What do you think?"
It hurt to look anywhere but straight forwards, and now, staring at the pirate's eyes, Scott was noticing something odd about them. He couldn't quite see it in the dark, however, and it only added to the confusion building in his head.
The captain slowly ran the card down his captive's cheek. "Because I think it's brilliant." He abruptly stood, taking his spices swirling up with him. "Sleep while you've got time, mon amour. You'll need it." He made as if to leave the brig, but paused in the doorway, tilting his head back towards his prisoner. "My name? My real name? Remy LeBeau. In case you were wondering."
And he was gone.
Scott leaned his head back against the wall, trying to get the smoke and spices out of his head. The captain, LeBeau, had no regards for personal space, and his closeness had made Scott's skin crawl. It was as if he'd stared death in the face. It was just an overall confusing experience. The dark hadn't helped, and neither had Remy's mixing of languages. Scott didn't know much French, but Remy'd said 'mon amour', which translated to 'my love'. Scott ground his teeth together. He wasn't Remy's anything. Anything but prisoner. He sighed and closed his eyes, taking Remy's advice and getting some sleep.
When Scott woke up, it was light out. His headache was gone, and he felt so much better than he had last night. He tried to get up, but the shackles held fast. Right. He heard a clunking and looked up to see someone coming down the stairs to the brig.
It was an enormous man, his body so tightly packed with muscle that he looked as solid as brick. his hair was cropped short and an earing glinted in one ear. Typical pirate. In his hand was a mug of water. "Dammit," he said. His voice was much softer and more gentle sounding that one would picture from his form. "I wanted to pour this on you."
"Not today," Scott muttered, glaring up at the man.
"So. Remy came down to see you last night, eh?" the pirate asked.
Scott nodded.
The man sighed. "What'd he say?"
"Uh… he was showing off. Lots of bragging and cards and French," Scott replied, tilting his head to the side and wincing as his neck cracked.
A chuckle. "Sounds like him alright. I'm Piotr, Remy's first mate."
"Scott," Scott returned. It briefly occurred to him that he was now on first name terms with the first mate of the most notorious pirate to ever sail the seas, but he brushed it off. He was going to need help if he was going to survive until Logan arrived.
Piotr turned to go. "Nice meeting you, Scott." He flung the water over the prisoner.
Scott gasped as the icy ocean water drenched him.
"Sorry," Piotr said, his voice apologetic. "I was really looking forwards to doing that." He called up to the deck. "Captain! He's awake!"
With a clatter, Remy was next to Piotr on the stairs. "So he is. Leave him to me now, Piotr. Get the Maximoffs up, will you?"
Piotr nodded. "Yes, Captain." He ran up the stairs, his footsteps soon pounding the deck above them.
Remy walked into the brig. "Sleep well, cher?"
"Blackbird will find you," Scott threatened. "And her captain won't rest until your blood stains the water from here to England."
"Scary." Remy grimaced sarcastically, then dropped the face and his playful manner. "Listen, bien aimé. Your captain can hunt me down his whole life, for all I care. Hell, he can even find me. Je ne me soucie pas. It won't change the fact that by the time he reaches me, you won't want to go back to him."
"You don't know anything about what I'll want," Scott yelled, his voice hoarse from lack of water. He was about to keep going, when, in a flash of anger and danger, the captain was kneeling and looking him in the eye.
Remy's hand was knotted in his captive's shirt and he was gritting his teeth. "Don't talk to me like that. You are in my ship, at my mercy. You don't want to know what I, you captain, can do to you."
"You're not my captain," Scott muttered, trying to ram his shoulder into Remy.
The captain put a hand on both of his prisoner's shoulders and slammed him back into the wall. "Do not talk to me," he whispered, his voice stone cold and deadly.
"I won't do what you say," Scott said firmly. "You won't hurt me."
"You don't know anything," spat Remy, drawing a dagger. He regarded it, as if wondering why he had it. Then he flung it to the ground and struck Scott hard across the face.
Scott's shoulder wrenched at its socket, torn between staying where it was shackled to the wall and following his face as he turned with the force of impact. He looked up at Remy. "The more you hurt me now, the more I'll hurt you when Logan shows up and takes this miserable ship."
Remy regarded the man in front of him with mild interest, raking his eyes up and down the man's body. Then, he leaned forwards, roughly pressing his mouth to Scott's.
Scott tilted his head down, breaking the kiss and pressing his forehead against the captain's. "What the hell?" He looked into Remy's eyes, which were visible now in the light. They were black, all black, with a circle of red for an iris.
Leaning closer, Remy made sure not only were their foreheads touching, but their noses were nearly side by side and their mouths were so close they could taste the other's breath. "What do you mean, what the hell?"
"You can't do that," Scott whispered, unable to open his eyes wider than the half-closed state they were in at the moment.
Remy kissed him again, much more gently this time. Then he stood, and, with a look that was almost sad, said, "Enjoy waiting for your Logan, cherí," and walked up to the deck.