Note: I decided to rewrite this story since it has been so long since I last up-dated. At this point I'm not sure where the changes will be in each of the chapters but hopefully reworking the plotline some will help inspire me to continue to write on this.

Disclaimer: I don't own X-Men or the X-Men storyline.

Chapter One

(Remy Lebeau aka Gambit)

"What about dignity? You will die and when you die you will know a profound lack of it. It's never dignified, always brutal. What's dignified about dying? It's never dignified. And in obscurity? Offensive. Dignity is an affectation, cute but eccentric, like learning French or collecting scarves. And it's fleeting and incredibly mercurial. And subjective. So fuck it."

-Dave Eggers from A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius

She shifted under his arm, her body heaving up and down, up and down a rhythmic stirring that briefly was acknowledged by her counter part as he slowly drifted from the latest disturbing dreams of his sub-conscience to current reality that was theirs. Releasing a satisfied but heavy sigh, she, still enwrapped in dreams that he could only guess at, turned on her side to face him. She was still sleeping he concluded through groggy eyes as he roughly rubbed his rugged face with a rough palm. Knowing that now, more than later, was the better option to make his leave of her and her hidden cabin, he slowly began to move away from her, trying not disturb her sleep. She groaned as he started to move, and opening and then narrowing her amber eyes so that they were piercing through his own. She knew what he was planning before he did. She had always been like that, a quality that he had come to admire and detest at the same time.

"A' tout-a'-l'heure," he informed her of his leaving in both their native tongue and then gently he apologetically kissing her forehead, "Go back ta sleep."

She blinked and then rose up allowing the white sheets to fall around her revealing her nude body in the dim twilight steeping through her partly boarded windows, "'And where can ya' be goin' t'is early in the mornin?"

"Je suis desole'" he mumbled his apology in French as he stepped on to the floor glancing around for his dark denim cargo pants. He spotted them where he had left them the night before, slung across the room the prior evening in both their haste to do what was only natural for a man and a woman to do together.

"Remy," she whined, her stark black hair messy around her bronze skin as her faces expressed not only anger at his sudden exit but also pain. She was a mess. But that very same messiness was made her so beautiful to him. She was like his own unorganized, strange copper angel but whether she was sent to him from Heaven to save him from the sin city of America or damn his soul in the sins they created together. Which of the latter of the two were true he was not sure. But he felt overwhelming fondness stemming from confusion that he could not understand no matter how hard he tried that she had created. She was a mystery in her own right, one that he knew, the moment he left he could never again explore, "Remy pleas don go. 'Tay wit' me. Don' go to her."

"Lanette," he spoke gently as he shook his head. Then, he leaned over the bed and cupped her small chin in his hand lifting her face so that her eyes were even with his and then added, "Don' be upset petite Remy gotta go. He ain't got no choice."

"Liar!" She snapped, snatching away from his grip she glared at him, her eyes sullen, and scoffed, "Fine go t'en!"

He shook his head frustrated that she did not understand the position that he was in, "Je ne comprends pas!"

"No!" she yelled, pointing an accusing finger at him, "Don' tell me ah don' understand anyt'ing. Or you forget who ah'am? You cannot lie to me! Ya go becuz' ya wanna not becuz' ya haft ta!"

While he was very fond of the woman who was glaring at him from her bed, he could not help but feel annoyance at the fact that she had clearly broken the pack they had made to each other on their special talents. But then, he mused as he thrust one muscular leg into of his pants at a time, her gift was not a natural mutation. Or at least that was the rumor of the swamps.

He was not sure if he actually believed in magic or not but one thing he did know was that there was something very dangerous about her that he could not place his finger on. Something dark. A danger, that in truth, he never felt from any other person or mutant he had come across before their meeting or after. Perhaps, he found her attractive because of that danger or perhaps he was a fool.

"Eh?" he inquired as he arched an eyebrow; at this point he was not trying to hide his annoyance from her, "And what ya mean by that?"

"Don'tcha play that game wit me Remy Lebeau," she stepped off the mattress and on to the ancient wood below her feet that made up the floor of the cabin. She did not bother to hide her body from his as she slinked forward to where he stood like a large feline stalking its prey, "You go out that door t'en don' bother to come back. Ah won't let you!"

"Lanette," he warned darkly wondering silently to himself where he had left his shirt.

"I'm serious," she snarled, "Ah like ya but ah won't be toyed with. If you go out that door you will regret it. Ah will see to that myself. If you go to her ah will curse you both."

Realizing his shirt was actually beneath his feet, he stepped back, and then picked it off of the ground and shook the dirt from it before he responded to her threat, "You knew t'at Remy would be marryin' her. Ain't never hid t'at from you, cher."

She gave a small, devilish smile, one that curled his blood, and chuckled as if he had said something humorous, "You don' even love her."

"No,"he replied pulling on a white wife beater and over that a maroon red shirt with a strip of white down the front and written in cherry red letters said: REBELLION, "But Remy don' love you either."

Her grin instantly melted, "Ah will make you love me t'en."

He managed to pull on an alligator tooth necklace, meant to keep him protected and safe, and then turned his face to hers his eyes hard without the tender emotion he had just shown her, "Remy don' believe in magic chere, and Remy ain't fond of threats no matter how beautiful the lips are of the one who says them."

"If ah were you ah would believe," she hissed, and then after a moment of thought added, "There are more t'ings to be afraid of out in the dark t'an whatcha think."

He slipped on his second, and much shorter necklace of a bear claw that was given to him by his deceased cousin for strength and wisdom, before he hesitantly replied, trying not to sound angry with her but failing at the same time, "Remy will take his chances."

"You are nothing but a cowardly man," she placed her small hands on his chest and shoved him a few steps. With her anger getting the better of her she went on to say, "A man who is afraid to tell his family that he would rather take his own fate in his hand t'en let them choose for him. A man such as this is only a joke."

"You go to far," he snapped back harshly as he slipped his jacket on and stuck his feet in the steel toed black boots he had stolen the night before, "Remy go like it or not."

The room was beginning to fill with more light as their argument began to progress. She grunted in hatred at his words before snapping her own out, "No marriage can be blessed when ta two who are marryin' families have spilled each others blood. T'ere is no need for me to curse you, t'e spirits will see to that job."

He slipped on a simple black ring on his thumb, two silver rings on his index and pinkie finger, and dressed the other fingers with knotted rings made of thread that Bella, the woman he was suppose to be marrying that evening, had woven him. His attire on his other hand was similar to the first he had dressed, he finished decorating both hands before he slipped an old black bandana over his right to hide a tattoo of three numbers: 2476 5698 77. After all this was done he replied to her, "Remy don' believe in all that nonsense chere so save your threats for a different man."

"You don' believe in the spirits?" she cackled causing the hair on the back of his neck to stand at the roots all though his poker face never faltered as she continued, "You go out t'at door and be sure t'at you leave this city. If you do not then ah will be sure to make you believe."

He pulled back his dark auburn hair in a band before opening the old cedar door to her home and responded nonchalantly, "Do your worst chere Remy not afraid."

"I will make a believer out of ya!" she roared, not moving from where she stood, her voice leaking with venomous spite as he slammed her door behind him.

He stood there for a minute as he placed two gold hoops half the size of a dime in his right ear and stepped into the shadows of the swamps her threat lingering in the air with the buzzing mosquitos. With the flirtaous song of the swamp urging him on from the dark cabin he made his way toward the town that was filled with people who resented him for talents he was born with, the chapel that towered over him criticizing his sinful ways, and the woman that he did not love and whom at the same time did not love him.

He opened his eyes to find a cold, cinder block wall was staring back at him, but it wasn't any wall it was the wall of a prison. He tried to sit up, to focus on his surroundings but there really wasn't any thing in the small cell for his eyes to absorb any new details. He had been there for nearly a year and a half, the exact details of his capture were sketchy to him. There had been a girl involved in some way or another. Not Bella. And not Lanette or at least he didn't remember her being there. Someone else. Someone he knew from deeper in his past. Someone he had forgotten the name of.

He tried to adjust his body into a more comfortable position and realized that he couldn't. There were chains on his wrists that locked him to the bed and prevented him from trying to escape. He glanced at the source of his pain: his knuckles. The skin had peeled itself away so deep that some of his bone was actually starting to show through. They weren't in the best condition but he had worst.

"Well lookie who's up?" a piggy voice squealed as a large man entered the room wearing a black leather eye patch.

He remembered the man very well.

"You got a problem with me punk?" a man called Pig snarled grabbing a fifteen year old Remy by his shirt and throwing him down to the floor.

Remy regained his feet and snapped, "Yea Remy got many problems wit' the likes of you!"

"Come on Rem don..." Etienne cautioned helping his cousin up by the arm.

"Why don't ya listen to the kid?" Pig demanded, "After all from this day forward I am your owner and you are my dogs!"

Remy growled under his breath but said nothing as Pig came closer with a rusty key to his chains, "How are you knuckles punk? I hope well because after our new comers to fight and your up. I think three days in the clinic is enough don't ya?"

"Wat new comers?" he finally asked after his wrists were let go and set free from the bed.

"We've just received three very interesting specimens who need homes: one girl and two men. Maybe you'll get lucky ole boy and the chick will win," he giggled thinking that the insidious joke he made was quite clever.

"And how would t'at affect Remy you fat connard?" Remy demanded as he got up from the bed he had been a prisoner of for the past few days and allowed the other man to lead him out of the small room they called a hospital and into a long, snaking hallway. How much he wanted to cause the other's throat to explode. It was blissful but gruesome thought, but if anyone deserved a bloody death such as that this man sure as hell did.

"Considering the circumstances of your room, since your roommate die," the man centered at his hatred gleefully remarked causing Remy to flinched at the news of the man who had been a friend of his for nearly fourteen months death, "We have an open spot, two even, and whoever wins is your new roomy. I doubt the girl will, when we received her all her forms only said: UNKNOWN. No label or anything. Its a real shame she'll have to die considering she is quite the sight. But anyways several men asked the boss if they could keep her," he giggled in a dark way causing Remy to visualize slamming his head into the wall, "but the boss said 'No'."

Neither said anything after this as they walked into the fighting area. The lights were bright and people were everywhere cheering and booing as two men attacked each other from the rink. The rink, which had been stained brown from the blood of those who had not survived, was a dome surrounded in special made glass that was controlled by a invisible source kept secret from the prisoners, was more or less indestructible. A mutant or even mutants no doubt where the cause of this that could neutralize all powers and keep them contained. Pig lead Remy down a strip of screaming on viewers and up a flight of stairs where all the modern day gladiators sat waiting for their turn.

There was a perfect, up close view of the fighting from his spot that he was chained to. He could see every little blood speck and every little sweat drop, because the prisoners benches were level with the rink while the poorer class sat at a lower level viewing the fight and the upper class viewed from up top receiving the 'birds eye view'.

"Oh," the pig squealed, "It looks like Target won this one. Better go make the announcements."

A few minutes after he had wobbled out of the room a voice cut through the crowd asking if the life of the man called Blue should me spared. The crowd screamed boos and some held their thumbs down signaling for Target to slaughter the other. And so he did.

Remy didn't look away.

He was immune to death now.

"Now ladies and gentlemen we have a special treat for you tonight, we are goin' to have Atom face three new comers," he paused for dramatic effect as the crowd cheered and the clean up crew empty the area of the body and the victor, "And here is ATOM! We all know this giant anywhere!"

Atom entered the arena wearing only a loose fitting pair of jeans and lacking all other manners of clothes and shoes. His bald head shown in the well lit rink as he lifted his arms to the crowd. They all admired his muscles and cheered even more loudly.

'Heat'ens,' he thought to himself shaking his head as Atom walked by.

"And our three contestants!" his voice roared on, "From Russia we have Shovk who can control electricity."

Shovk received several boos as his small form enter the ring; he couldn't have been over sixteen only a few years younger than Remy himself. He glanced around the arena with wide blue eyes the exact shade of ice. He tumbled to the ground at the force of a shoe someone had thrown at him hitting him in the back of the head, and his glasses slid to Remy's own feet. He reached down, straining against his short chains, to pick up the glasses for the boy who had regained his footing.

"Th'sanks," the boy mumbled taking back the glasses as his escort pushed him forward.

"Don lose," Remy warned before he was out of ear shot.

The boy, Shovk, nodded, clearly wanting him to know he would take the advice.

"And next we have Firecracker!" Pig screamed, "A hot-headed flame thrower from Texas!"

The next to enter the ring was a Mexican thirty-year-old man who didn't seem to understand what was going on. His ebony eyes darted to and from each side of the stage. Remy nodded his head to try and give the man new confidence. The man, seeming to understand simple gestures of kindness, smiled, beaming his crooked teeth for the New Orlean's native to see. There was more booing from the crowd.

"And the last of our new comers," the announcer paused, "is an unknown mutant. She is a southern bell, give it up for the rogue."

Three men pushed a struggling girl into the entrance of the arena, she kicked, they dropped her, and she fell right on top of Remy. He was overcome with shock, awe, anger, and pity as she looked up at him with large emerald orbs filled with fear.

"Where is it?" a girl's voice demanded, a thick accent of the south embedded in it, he had heard the voice before but couldn't place it to any features.

Remy didn't turn around, but simply kept playing his poker game and said, "What is tis?"

"You know what!" she hissed, "I wont ask again, tell me where it is or else!"

"Or else what?" he snapped turning to face the girl. The day was wearing on, and soon he was due to be at the chapel for the ceremony he was trying to avoid thinking about.

She couldn't have been two years younger than he was. She had dark brown hair with highlights of red through out it. Two long streaks of white were pulled back on top of her head with pins to keep them out of her stunningly angry green eyes. She wore a long, hooded wool coat that danced at her ankles where a pair of black leather boots met it. He notice she was wearing a leather black glove on her left hand and held a matching glove in that same hand while her right hand remained bare. She wore her coat buttoned up so he couldn't see the shirt she was wearing but he was capable of seeing the lime green scarf around her neck.

"Ah warned you swamp rat," she snarled, reaching her bare hand out until it made contact with his exposed cheek.

He felt an excruciating pain explode from his cheek and burn through his blood stream. He could see Pig standing in front of him as he tattooed the three numbers: 2476 5698 77 on his wrist five years ago. The girl stood behind the two figures of his memories wide eyed and terrified.

Everything turned spinning wildly out of control until it all faded to white.

The memory switched to a boy and a girl sitting in a bedroom; there wasn't much significant about the room, plain walls covered in cut out magazine pictures. There was a large map of North America counter to him with different color pins in it.

"And where will you go?" the boy question with a raised eyebrow.

"Everywhere!" the girl shouted as she crawled beside him.

She looked about thirteen and he looked about fifteen.

"Everywhere?" he inquired slowly leaning forward until their lips met in an awkward kiss and when their lips touched. For a minute it was nothing more than an awkward action and reaction of two teenagers exploring beyond the realms of childhood. But then the boy's body began to jerk and then eventually he began to seizure. The girl pulled away in disbelief, her eyes growing wide with fear until finally she let out an ear piercing scream that cut through Remy's own soul.

Remy looked to a corner where the elder version of the same girl stood; she stormed toward him and screamed, "Get out of my head!"

Everything then began to spin wildly out of control for a second time before it finally faded to blackness.

"You," he managed as the girl blinked slowly, "You're t'e reason Remy is here!"

"What are you-" she couldn't finish as a guard jerked her by her arm and began shoving her toward the door of the rink.

"You did tis to Remy!" he yelled at her trying to jump to his feet only to have the chains snatch him down as the dome closed.

"Now that the introductions are over," Pig's voice spoke through the crowd; no one noticing or sharing in his revelation of who the girl was, "How 'bout some entertainment?"

Remy was unable to take his eyes off the shaking girl. He knew her from somewhere else too. He shook off the sense of da-ja-vu for the time being. He wanted her to pay for him being there and yet he felt sorry for her at the same time. He wanted to rescue her before the innocence in her eyes faded away to nothingness. But those thoughts were shoved away by his own disgust of the poetic sense of being a hero. He was no hero. He knew this so what the hell where the points of those thoughts?

He was growing soft he was sure of it.

Atom started off with his usual explosions, sending one straight for Shovk. He wanted to help the quaking boy who seemed frozen from fear, but his chains prevented him from it.

"Hold it!" Pig screamed in protest over the crowd, "Hold it!"

Atom paused as the dust cleared.

A deep gasp exclaimed by the crowd after the dust cleared, revealing the girl laying on the ground next to an uninjured Russian crying in pain; the only sound that could be heard in the otherwise quiet given birth from shock of the on looker of the arena games. Remy was again fighting against is restraints to stand as the events sunk in and the crowd began to cheer with glee. After a few minutes Shovk helped the girl to her feet as the many wounds on her face and arms started to heal themselves at once.

"Did you see that?" a voice whispered behind Remy, "She's a healer."

"Her collar isn't working," another pointed out.

She had more than just healing powers he was sure of it. She had simply touched him and caused him to pass out. Not only that but they had shared each other's memories as well. He shook his head. There was no way she was simply a powerful healer. No she was much more than that and her powers were much stronger than their captors had clearly suspected.

The girl looked up at his strained form caught somewhere between a hunching stand and a kneel, her eyes entwining with his own gaze.

She knew who he was he was sure of it.