Disclaimer: I own nothing and no one

Note: First off, all of you looking for a sad fix, full of angst and Remy torture. Well, you are in the wrong place. Some of you who read my other stuff may find this chapter a bit familiar, but I figured there was no need to come up with a totally new one when I had a perfectly good beginning already. So, I did a bit of rewriting and adjusted the point of view. I think it turned out pretty good.

And now that that's out of the way.

Here we go, my long awaited X-men fic, Double or Nothing

Chapter One

Remy's heart caught in his throat. After all the X-men's preaching about forgiveness and second chances, they couldn't seriously be intending to leave him? Right? Obviously, a cynical voice mentally pointed out as the vehicle carrying his former comrades disappeared into the distance, they were.

Feelings of disbelief quickly disappeared, turning into rage. Gambit preferred that emotion anyway, at least in comparison to a numbness that had nothing to do with cold. Those ^*&%(*&)^ hypocrites! How dare they! So much for your past not mattering. Apparently that only applied if they didn't find out about it.

The Cajun didn't really know Maggot or Trudy all that well, and as for Joseph. Well, Remy couldn't really blame the amnesic man for wanting him out of the way. Beast's betrayal had hurt though. However, what truly pissed him off was the reactions of Rouge and Archangel.

His girlfriend (well ex-girlfriend considering she had just abandoned him in Antarctica) had been a terrorist before the X-men had taken her in. And as for Warren, did the name Death ring any bells? Between the two of them, they had shed enough blood to make Remy's own hands seem clean by comparison.

But sugar, the mutant thief could almost hear Rouge's southern drawl. That was different, she is my Momma.

Ah oui, the thief thought bitterly. With her it was always different. But God forbid he ever make a mistake. Though if you asked Gambit, his ex had outdone her Mother with this stunt. Raven at least would have had the decency to put a bullet in his brain. If only to ensure Remy really was dead.

Oh sure, Rouge had claimed it was his own choice whether he lived or died. However, Remy just couldn't see it. All alone in Antarctica, no food or supplies, not even a decent jacket. Just him, the ice, and the penguins. Idly Gambit wondered if the flightless birds were edible before returning to the topic at hand. To be honest, things weren't looking good.

Still the Cajun knew he had to try. After all, a slim chance was better than no chance at all, and Remy was a survivor. He always had been. If his death would give him absolution for his part in the massacre, Gambit would have taken that path long ago. However, he knew it wouldn't. The Morlocks were gone, and nothing would change that. As such, simply lying down and waiting to die just wasn't an option.

A wan smirk passed over the slender man's face, a pale imitation of his usual grin. "Remy guess it be a good thing he neva show all his cards non," he whispered aloud. Reaching the Savage Land was a long shot, but really it was his only hope. Another would have been hopelessly lost in the desolate landscape, but not Gambit. His finely tuned spatial awareness was better than a compass.

An icy cold wind ruffled the Cajun's hair, cutting through his clothes as though they were nonexistent. Remy did not allow the discomfort to deter him. Carefully, he called up his biokinetic charge, using it to raise both his internal and external temperature. Then, he set his shoulders, and began to walk.

Gambit had no idea exactly how far he walked. His body was, for the most part, on autopilot. The only thing that mattered was placing one foot in front of the other. He knew that if he stopped, he would never start again. Which meant he would die, Remy didn't want to die.

"Hey punk," the voice came out of nowhere.

A pair of red on black eyes blinked, slowly coming into focus. The glare off the ice and snow had been harsh on his light sensitive eyes. Standing in front of him was an all too familiar figure. Six and a half feet tall, nearly four hundred pounds, with vicious looking claws on the end of each finger. Claws that Remy knew from previous experience were wickedly sharp.

It was impossible to mistake the blond for anyone else. But what was the other doing here? After a moment of contemplation, Remy reached what seemed to be a reasonable explanation. "Wonderful," the thief muttered to himself. "Just wonderful, now Gambit be hallucinating." That did not bode well for his chances of survival.

Mournfully he rolled his eyes heavenward, addressing a God he wasn't sure gave a damn about him. "You couldn't have sent dis poor Cajun some belle femmes instead." Remy looked back at the blond. "Granted," he acknowledged. "It be a tres bon likeness. Looks just like Chatton." Hebrushed his empathy against the other's feral presence. "Feels like him too."

The Cajun continued to walk forward, only to run smack dab into Creed's not so intangible mystique. Gambit stumbled backwards, his usual grace deserting him as he tumbled into the snow. His demonic orbs blinked again, looking up at the feral in incomprehension. "You know Monsieur, for a hallucination, you be awfully solid."

Victor just sighed. As though dealing with the younger man wasn't trying enough under normal circumstances. But perhaps, it was better this way. At least the kid hadn't started throwing exploding cards yet. He reached down, yanking Gambit up and over one shoulder in a fireman's carry. The other hand moved to tap his communicator. "Sabertooth to base, I got him."

A moment later, the only indications the pair had ever been there were the indentations in the snow. Soon enough, even those would vanish.

DNDNDNDNDNDN

I know, it is not proven Gambit has empathy

It is just a theory. But it is my story.

Plus, he'll need it later

Hope you enjoyed and please share your thoughts

If I like something, I might add it to the fic