This fic originated from the Gambit and Storm group on yahoo.

http/groups. Authors:

Macbeth, Ace, Te, and Bastet

All chapters are labled to their respective authors.

Storyline is original to said authors. However characters belong to Marvel and are used for entertainment only.

Enjoy!

THE CROSS OF CONSTANTINE

Chapter One

Written by: Lady Macbeth

Ororo put down the copy of "New Orleans sketches" Remy had given her for Christmas and rubbed her eyes, trying to keep awake. Just now she realized she had already gone through half of the book already. It was funny the fact that both she and the Cajun had so similar literary tastes, at least when it came to American literature. Both were enthusiasts of southern gothic, her for stylistic and intellectual reasons, him for emotional motives, but still it was impossible for any of them to pick up a copy of a Faulkner or Tennessee Williams book without bringing an identical one for the other. Not that Remy was as much of a reader as she was…actually he wasn't really much of a reader…except for the Southern Gothic passion, he was pretty much incapable of finishing a book; he had a very irritating difficulty to just settle down to read…Actually he had a great difficulty to settle down period.

And in the past days it had gotten worst. It was usual during the holiday season anyway. First it was the cold: as soon as the temperature begun to fall he would start cursing everything north of the Hudson, then the kids left. Every year they celebrated Christmas in the 22nd so the kids could go home with their families to celebrate the actual date, the house got pretty much empty then, and there was just nothing to do. Usually the adults would take the time to do their own stuff.

Many had family or friends somewhere. Except a few people, her amongst them, who had no one to come back to. Remy usually spend a couple of days in New Orleans then came back, others like her, Rogue, or Kurt just stayed. This year was different though… Rogue wasn't home. Having decided to take some time to herself, she went back to Mississippi to get back in touch with who she was, her past. Logan went to Canada, and even Kurt had gone back to Germany for a few weeks. He asked if she wanted to come with him, but Ororo declined…because she knew Remy wasn't going anywhere this year…they decided to spend the holidays in the mansion, with professor. Still Remy wouldn't settle down. The Cajun was just restless.

She was halfway through the book and the clock announced midnight, and he wasn't home yet. Professor had retired a long time ago and she was all alone in the library. Just as she laid down the book by the oak lamp-table besides the leather armchair, Ororo felt steps approaching; felt rather than listened, since the steps were light like those of a thief, so light indeed that only another thief could identify them. She turned to the door, already knowing who would walk in:

"Still up, padnat?" He asked tossing his coat over a chair.

"Waiting for you…"

"Good…" He smiled sitting on the other armchair, placed right in front of hers.

"Where have you been?"

"Did you reach the end of the book already?"

"Remy, don't change subject."

"I'm not…did you got to end of the book? I think you'll like how it turns out…"

"It's a selection of separate texts, Remy…"

"I know, still check the end…"

Sighing, she opened the book on the last page…Remy could be such a child sometimes…How did she miss that envelope inside the book?

"What is this?"

"Open…

Inside there were two two-way tickets for Rome. She looked up at him and he had that grin on his face; that "I'm up to something" grin of his. Last time she had seen it they were still in New Orleans and she was still thirteen years old.

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Means were going to Rome."

"I can see that…but…"

"Stormy…Did you ever miss that time we spend in Nawlins? Did you ever miss doing stuff just for the heck of it, without giving a shit what anyone thinks? Well I do…I'm sick and tired of having to apologize for everything, to be playing by the rules, by other people's rules, of…Don't you ever feel you need some time just to be a little irresponsible, just be free for a while?"

She knew what he was talking about…She felt like this ever since she was a child, and it had only gotten worse after she came to be a part of the X-men, all the leadership responsibilities, stepping in every time Scott failed to manage his personal and professional life and just withdraw from his own responsibilities, denying herself any personal life at all. All of that with no recognition…not that she wanted any, but sometimes it was just…frustrating.

"So, chère…don't you just want to give a big ol´ "fuck it" to everything? This is your opportunity."

"In Rome?"

"Yeah…did you ever heard of the "Cross of Constantine"?"

"The what?"

"For centuries it has been a myth…kinda like Britney Spears singing abilities, everybody talks about it but it doesn't really exists. Well, I just found out it might be real. They say the emperor Constantine had a golden cross perfectly symmetric with seven perfect black pearls and one oval sapphire the size of a big olive that had special powers, miraculous powers. People say that cross was the whole reason why the Byzantine Empire lasted throughout the entire middle age, while the Western Roman Empire collapsed. It stayed in Constantinople until the ottomans invaded it. They stole it from the imperial treasure, and legend has is that they tried to take the gems off and melt the gold of it, but no matter how much they tried, nothing could destroy the cross. Since then it has been in possession of many people. According to the legend it can bring the owner anything he or she wants; it helped the Arabs dominate the northern Africa and Iberian peninsula, then was stolen by the Portuguese, and thanks to it they succeeded in defeating the Arabs and starting the great navigations, it was lost until it fell into the hands of Napoleon, who started loosing battles after one of his servants sold the cross out to a British nobleman, this guy presented the king of England with it and bam, soon the British had an empire…Last time it was seen it was in possession of Rockefeller. But since his death no one knew where it went."

"And who has this miraculous object now?" She asked raising an ironic eyebrow.

"Peter Grant."

"You mean that zillionaire that just beat Bill gates in the list of richest men on earth?"

"Yep…And I heard from a good source he keeps the cross in a subterranean safe in his vineyard in Tuscany, more protected than the Mona Lisa in the Louvre."

Her cerulean eyes widened as she tried to gasp out the words:

"You are not suggesting that we…"

(Continues…)