Disclaimer: I don't own X-men. Marvel does. So don't sue!
Song Suggestion: DJ Uneek feat. Bizzy Bone - Doctor (I Don't Care About Nothing)
It was still dark outside when the alarm sounded throughout the mansion. Her eyelids fluttered as she heard what she thought was Cyclops signaling everyone to the War Room. But she was beyond exhausted, not able to move even if she wanted to. For the first time since coming to the mansion, she had collapsed into a deep dreamless sleep, and there was no way some jerk wanting to take over the world was going to ruin it.
Blackness enveloped her once again until the late hours of the afternoon. Too soon her eyes were blinded as they opened against their will into the sunlight. She lay still, barely able to lift her arm to shield her face from the onslaught of fiery rays burning her retinas.
Shifting her gaze, she noticed flashing digits reading 3:30. Exactly, how long had she been out? She hadn't been paying attention to much of anything, let alone the passage of time. She didn't even know whether it was Saturday or Sunday.
Trying to get her bearings, she became more and more conscious of everything around here. By degrees, she was able to pull herself off of the bed and close the curtains, cutting off the intrusive light to a mere slit. She had fallen into bed with her dirty clothes, not having bothered to strip. She desperately needed to get out of them and into a shower.
Breathing a sigh, she looked down at what had once been her favorite coat. Which was ruined. Though it had managed to keep her semi-protected for much of the unanticipated fucking. She managed to shrug it off her shoulders without much of a problem. Her shirt was another story. She was forced to use her paffs to burn through the thin material. The cloth disintegrated around her shoulders and fell to her feet without her moving so much as a muscle. She did the same thing with her jeans, burning a slit all the way up the fabric of both legs. She didn't care about salvaging them. They had been ripped to shreds and were on the verge of falling apart anyway. Later she'd burn everything. She wanted no reminders of last night.
Testing her legs, she hobbled a couple of laps around the room. If she was lucky they would hold her weight for the time being. Carefully she made her way to the adjoining bathroom and closed the door. She used much of her upper body strength to climb into the bathtub, sit down and turn on the shower. Her eyes were dry, bloodshot, unblinking as the water pelted her fragile body. It cut rivets into her already damaged skin.
Unable to ignore the increasing throbs of pain, she looked down and saw her wrists had gone from white to orange; and her hands were adorned with boiling blisters, bleeding scuff marks, and white puss-filled swelling which marred every contour. She stared at them, transfixed and wondering why she couldn't feel any pain. Everywhere else hurt like hell, but not her hands. Were her powers acting up again?
Shaking herself and working a towel around the offending objects, she made a feeble attempt to clean off. The best she could do was let the water wash off the loose dirt and caked gravel on her skin. She tried, but couldn't rub off the dried blood and bits of dead skin cells without causing further injury.
Hardly satisfied, but wanting more than anything to wash her hair, she turned off the shower. The lack of the water pressure on her bruises and sores was a welcome relief. With her hands still wrapped in the towel, she twisted them around the lever that turned on the tap. Trying as best she could to stick her head under it, she ran her makeshift mitts over the disheveled strands. The water left it dull and matted with only a few specks of dirt.
Too worn out for any more activity, she drained the water and lay against the cool tile of the shower. She was in too much pain to pull herself up. Yet she had no choice. It was either stay here, naked and drowning, or make it back to safety under the covers of her bed. After a half hour of debating with herself about whether to stay in the tub, she finally used what was left of her energy to climb unsteadily to her feet, and place one leg at a time on the bathmat. Hanging onto the walls for support, she managed to peel her robe from the back of the door and throw it around her shoulders without losing her balance. Fumbling with the sash, she dressed herself and walked unsteadily back to the bed until the weakness in her legs caused them to give way. She stumbled forward, knocking into her bureau with a loud bang.
The insistent knock at her door caused her to lose her center of balance and fall, once again, in an ungracious heap on the floor.
"Jubilee?"
Fuck.
"Chére?" Gambit's voice echoed quietly in the empty corridor. "What you doin' in dere?"
"Sleepin'." She adjusted her voice to sound groggy, but the man wasn't fooled.
"Don' sound like it."
"Go away. I got like no sleep last night."
"Why ya be yellin' den?"
"None of your beeswax."
"Dere be a time and place for yo' mouth fille. Now ain't it."
"Look. Just tell Jean or whoever sent ya that I'm fine! Now get the hell away from my door unless you want a faceful of fireworks!"
"Dat a threat chére? Cause Gambit always got time to play. Dat is unless you already gone and broke somethin'."
Jubilee stifled a groan. Leave it to the Cajun to call her out on an empty threat. "I said I'm fine." She ground out through gritted teeth.
"Really?" He said with a disbelieving drawl. "So you wouldn't mind openin' de door?"
"I swear I'm gonna paff your sorry ass into next week…." She grumbled.
"What's dat? Didn't quite catch it." Though he knew full well what she said. Sighing, he resorted to a tactic that required slightly more effort. "Don' tell me I have t' pick de lock."
Jubilee's eyes went wide. She let forth a stream of cursing that would make Wisdom blush. Gambit, however, was used to this sort of welcome. Discreetly, he continued his trade. She continued her rant, all the while silently praying that he was bluffing. Though clearly he wasn't. She contemplated throwing out some plasma grenades as a distraction, but in her weakened state, she could barely make a spark. Best just to piss him off and make him leave.
Seconds later, he entered to find her sprawled face down on the floor. The pitiful sight elicited a word he hadn't used since she first arrived back.
"Petite?"
Involuntary shivers ran across her body as he shut the door and stepped toward her. Every step he took sent a fresh wave of panic through her features. He stopped advancing and crouched down a few feet away. Refusing to acknowledge his presence, she lowered her head so that her hair hid every inch of her face. Taking a chance, he reached out slowly to sweep it back.
Her composure and dignity dropped.
"DON'T TOUCH ME!" She watched his hand freeze in mid-air.
"What are you doing here?" She demanded, her tone flat and cold. "Saving the world is in your job description ya know."
"Dey don' wan' me dis time petite." He was looking straight at her now, his eyes taking it all in. Everything about her was in disarray. Her limbs were sprawled in different directions, bloody and bruised. Her breath came out in sharp pants, every muscle in her body tightly clenched. She practically whimpered every time he moved. "Why y' be actin' like dis petite?"
She chuckled darkly. How was she supposed to act? She'd just been fucking gang banged! But she'd be damned if she'd let him find out. Her mouth opened and closed several times while she tried to suppress her mounting rage. "Get out." When he made no move to leave, her temper skyrocketed. "NOW!"
"Look me in de eye and tell me dat."
"Excuse me?" Her voice raised with half shock and half panic.
"Look Gambit in de eye. Den he leave."
"You can't just waltz in here and give me some stupid ultimatum. If I wanted you to know my business I would have told you! But since you insist on sticking your nose into it, here's my deal. You leave and I don't tell the Prof about this little breaking and entering incident – with added details."
A smug look tugged at the handsome man's features. Wolverine had taught her well. The fools would believe it too. The girl had a mouth too big for her own good.
"Word to de wise Chére. Better watch who you insult. De ones you hate be de ones who can help. Not like Remy knows what goin' on wit' anyone round here anymore, but I got a better idea den most of de ones you trust. An' you be right. Dis ain't my business. Mais looks like you be gettin' worse 'n worse. Not many I seen dat be lookin' like ya do right now. An de ones dat have don' live ta tell about it. Don' blame ya if you not be wantin' help. De X-men don' trust me. No reason you should either. But if ya don' wan' me here, atleast have de nerve ta look me in de face when ya say it."
"I can't." She whispered in a voice tight with anxiety. Her neck was so cramped, she could barely lift her head up. He knew she was in pain. So why was he asking her to do something so impossibly simple? Something he knew she couldn't do even if she wanted to. "Besides, why should I listen to you? You're just here to make sure I don't kill myself before ratting me out to the Professor."
"What makes you t'ink dat?"
"Because you're just like Wolverine." Fighting against the tears, she tried to spare herself another crying spell. "I can take care of my own business."
"Really? Looks like you doin' a hell of a job."
"Like you care!"
"Would Remy be here if he didn't?"
The use of his first name sent warning bells through her senses. He was trying to make this personal. She wasn't going to get out of this by being bitchy. He wasn't going to leave until he got an answer he was satisfied with. Which meant she was screwed. Royally.
Sucking up her pride, she decided to tell as little of the truth as she could get away with. "It's just scrapes from a fight. No biggie." After seeing the skeptical look on his face, she added something about seeing Beast when he got back to the mansion.
Gambit knew that was a damned lie. But he ignored it. "A fight?" He repeated. "Dat's it? Seems like dere ought ta be more for ya to be actin' lik' dis."
"I said I'm fine."
"Why you tryin' ta lie to a thief petite?"
"Take the hint and leave me alone." Her face was covered in steamy tears and sticky clusters of hair.
"Non."
"What the fuck do you want from me?" She spat, keeping her eyes averted. If she looked him in the eyes, it was all over for her.
"De truth."
She opened her mouth but the words stuck in the back of her throat causing her to gag. Remy watched the involuntary reflex with concern, but made no move to go over and help her. "Is all dis really from a fight?"
"If I tell you, will you promise to leave me the hell alone and keep it to your damned self?"
Slowly he nodded. Best not to break her trust now or else he'd never get the truth out of her.
"Ask whatever you want. I don't like it, I don't answer."
Again, he nodded, agreeing to her terms. "How many?"
"15." She whispered.
"I take it y' didn't win."
"What do you think?" She snarled.
"Did y' use y'r fireworks?"
"Never got a chance." The shame dripped from her tone as she was forced to admit her pisspoor defense the night before.
"Den what happened?"
"They chained me." She spat.
Remy bit back the anger that swelled within. The look on her face was terrible enough to make him want to beat down every male this side of New York.
"Petite." His voice ached with compassion. "All o' dem?" It was a mere whisper, more to himself than the girl.
She wouldn't answer. Instead she bit down on the sleeve of her robe trying to stifle the sobs that coursed through her body. Moving back onto her hands and knees, she covered her face, clawing at her skin. Gambit remained where he was, reaching out only to take her hands in his to stop her from hurting herself. With her face exposed, she realizing she was once again vulnerable with nowhere to hide. Her chest erupted with dry heaves. With a distressed moan, she fought with him to clutch at her robe, trying to keep it together.
Not wanting to make any more sudden movement unannounced, he let go and waited for her to adjust before telling her that he was going to take off his coat and give it to her. Registering what was being offered, she stayed stark still. When the fabric fell around her shoulders she frantically pulled it together, clutching at it for dear life. The look in her eyes was worse than any of the physical damage. They were haunted, almost beyond seeing. He crouched down a few feet away, not sure of how to try and relax her.
Charm wasn't something he liked to use on a woman. He preferred if they came to him willingly, not because he was manipulating them. But in this instance, it seemed to be the only course of action. In an act of desperation, he penetrated her icy blue depths, trying to coax her mentally to relax and let him in. Just enough so that she would know he wasn't going to leave her lost.
Tentatively, he moved towards her. She wasn't backing up or panicking which was a good sign.
Summoning up the last of her courage, she met his gaze dead on. Her eyes moved over every inch, casing out every subtle movement, every intention. From what he could gather, all she really wanted was someone who could be trusted.
He knew better than to be shocked when he noticed a change. The sapphire orbs no longer flashed in anger and rage. Instead, they held an aching sadness that penetrated the layers of his mind. He kept his gaze fixed on her as he bent down to meet her face to face. Pulling himself into a comfortable sitting position, he leaned over and whispered softly to her.
"C'mere petite."
To his credit, she inched her way ever so slowly across the floor. Although there were mere inches between them, it took a few minutes to coax her as she wavered between the emotions that would ultimately be her downfall. Soon, however, she was on her hands and knees in front of him – the coat and the robe still in place. He reached out, pulling her softly against him. Ashamed, she hid her face in his chest. Even through the thick coat, he felt her constant shudders, and moved to envelop her in a warm hug. Smoothing the hair back off her forehead, he whispered in broken French and English as the girl's whimpers grew more frantic. "Ne tu inquiétez pas petite. Ain' nobody gonna hear y' but me." Locked in a tight embrace against his chest, she broke. Her howls could be heard echoing throughout the empty mansion.