*Usual Disclaimer: I do not own rights to any Marvel characters. I don't make any money out of this writing. Have fun and read on! Author memo. This is what happens when the shrink messes with the meds. Talk about insomnia. But you happy readers get the side effect of me typing random shit until the story grinds into form!*
~Late Morning~
"How is he doing, Logan?" Scott didn't wait until he was all the way down the hall before asking questions. "Is the dampener holding out?"
Logan looked up from his seat in a chair across from Remy's room. "He fell asleep 'bout an hour ago, from what I can hear in there. At least, he's not wrecking his room anymore and he's not pacing around." Setting down a mug of coffee next to an ashtray holding the remains of his cigar, Logan pointed at the small machine plugged into the wall with wires running around Remy's bedroom door. "As for the gizmo, it must be working or we'd both be cryin' in our coffee."
"Well, that's a relief. It was a mess around here earlier this morning. I had no idea that emotions could travel that far, with such intensity."
"Are the younger students doing better?"
Scott nodded affirmative. "Once the dampener started working, most recovered quickly. Jean is talking to three that were already in therapy for mood issues, but she's telling me they'll bounce back in a few more hours. Something about empath outpourings not leaving a permanent mark as long as the exposure is limited."
"Good."
Scott didn't need to be a telepath, or an empath for that matter, to see something was bothering the older man. "What are you thinking?"
Logan didn't look up, instead turning his attention back to his coffee. "This isn't right, Slim. That doo-hickey might be saving all of us a lot o' grief, but there's somethin' no one else thought of that's got me worried."
"What?"
"Remy's alone in there. That dampener has him isolated with his own thoughts and emotions in there, and that might be downright dangerous considerin' his last known current mood." He took a sip of the coffee then grimaced. It had gone cold. "But what do I know? I'm just dumb muscle around here, not one o' the top thinkers."
Scott stood still, thinking of the possibilities. Then he spoke, his voice softer than it needed to be. "Do you think he'd hurt himself? Is he suicidal?"
Logan shrugged. "That's a loaded question. We're all with a death wish, going after other super powered beings on a regular basis. As for Remy, I think he's not that far gone. Yet." He looked up at the X-Men's leader. "Might want to get someone in there to check though, to make sure I'm right. Got it?"
"I get it." He reached out for the doorknob to Remy's bedroom. He expected it to be locked, and was mildly surprised to feel it turn under his grip. "Wish me luck, Logan."
"Good luck, Cyke."
The door opened only a short distance before bumping into something on the floor. Scott put a little more effort behind the push and he could hear glass shards moving around with other rubbish on the floor. Giving thanks that he was in thick soled sneakers he slid through the opening and closed the door behind him.
The wave of self-loathing slammed into Scott like a physical punch, taking his breath away. It was like standing in a waterfall of the thickest tar, sticking to both his mind and body. He reached out for the light switch, hoping the light would help somewhat with the outpouring of despair filling the heavy silence.
The light didn't turn on. As a child in the dark would attempt to rid themselves of a nightmare, Scott flipped the switch a few more times.
"No sense tryin' it, Summers. Light bulb's busted."
"What, no Cyclops or asshole leader?"
His feeble attempt to lighten the mood sent a sliver of dark humor sliding over the floor. "Right now Gambit not in da mood to have company."
Scott guesstimated where Remy's voice was coming from. He younger man was most likely sitting on the bed. He headed in that direction only to stumble on what sounded and felt like the remains of a lamp. "It's a little dark in here, Remy. Anything you can do about that?"
"You not gonna go away, are you." It was not a question.
"No I'm not. So could you get some light in here? Move a curtain to let in some sunlight through the window?"
There was a deep breath, then it was let out slow. "Won't work. Put up foil when I moved in here, so Gambit can sleep in without da sun waking me up early." A strange glow started off to one side of the room. Scott realized Remy was charging something for a light source so he could see. Not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, he quickly made a bee-line for a spot on the edge of the bed before the light faded out.
"How do you feel?"
"With my hands, mostly."
It took Scott a moment to process what Remy said. He tried to hold back, but a small giggle escaped. Remy joined in. Before they could really stop both men were laughing. Scott breathed a mental sigh of relief as the mood lightened to something less suffocating.
"Good one there. With your hands." Scott finally caught his breath. "Seriously though, how are you feeling?"
Remy let his own giggles fade away. Melancholy drifted on the air. "Gambit be fine, once I get some sleep. Been one long night, homme."
"Elizabeth told us about the attempted mugging. I'm honestly surprised neither of you used your powers."
There was a huff from the younger man. "Gambit's not a fool. Betsy's smart. No need to use powers on street punks dat don't know what they doing. Not to mention no reason to get city cops called on rampaging mutants in da streets."
"She also told me privately that you robbed the assailants."
"Oui."
Scott took deep breath of his own and let it out silently. "We're not going to have the speech about theft being a crime, and that I don't want that happening again. Understood, Gambit?"
"Oui, Gambit gets it in one."
"What did they have on them?" He was hoping for the best and preparing for the worst.
"Couple hundred cash, some junk jewelry, bag of pills."
It was the worst. "And where is everything you picked up?"
"Money somewhere on da floor. Same place for jewelry. I flushed the pills." Scott could both hear and feel the irritation. "I didn't take any of them, if dat what you t'ink."
"I didn't think you'd take them. But I do think you could use some assistance. I'm thinking that it would do you some good to have some serious talks with Jean, and work more on your mental shields. I can't help with either of those, unfortunately."
"Why the fuck do you give a damn 'bout Gambit?"
Before he could stop himself from reacting to the anger sweeping the room Scott answered. "Because, you miserable self-centered brat, you are a good team member that I don't want to lose to either drugs or suicide! Or see you pull one of your patented vanishing acts to turn up brain dead in a motel room with a bimbo from an emotional overdose! So how about you help us and yourself and get out of this room and into the light?"
"Who got a mouth on them now, Summers?"
Scott caught himself. "Damn. You're persuasive without words."
"Oui." He could almost see the grin across the bed. The mood darkened for a moment. "You t'ink Hank gonna string me up by my toenails, if I ask him for somethin' to sleep?"
Scott thought about it for a moment. "I think if you take your nap in the med-lab under his watchful eye, there shouldn't be a problem. I have learned one thing from being with a telepath for a long time, if sleep is lacking everything starts to stink."
"Ain't dat a truth."
~Evening~
Betsy looked up from the broom she was pushing across the hardwood floor. "Good evening Logan. Is Remy still asleep?"
The older man nodded. "Out like a light. Seems for all of his prowling around, he's not been getting real sleep. Blue figures he's out 'till sunrise." He turned his gaze to the room both of them were standing in. "What came over you, to clean up after the boy? He's a grown man, he could clean up his own temper tantrum mess."
With a final dump of the dustpan into the trash bin she'd brought up from the kitchen, Betsy set the broom to one side and looked around Remy's bedroom. "He's going to have enough on his hands when he wakes up. I figured... at least he wouldn't have to clean this up."
Logan fought down a grin. "You thinkin' of changing boyfriends?"
"No... it's not that."
Logan sat down on the edge of the remade bed and rolled an unlit cigar in one hand. "So what is 'it' exactly?"
She sighed. "I know to a certain extent what he's going through. Not the emotion side of things, but not knowing which thought in your head is yours or someone else's."
He nodded. "I hear that's a common complaint with telepaths."
"Yes. If we're lucky, we find an anchor early and hold on for dear life. Someone else that we can rely on to weather whatever storms blow through our minds. Remy doesn't have that. Now he has you and Ororo to talk with, but no one to really bare his heart to and find some forgiveness."
"Rogue blew up that bridge when she left him to freeze. It's a good thing all around she's not come back from her little vacation." He stood up. "Is an anchor that important to a telepath?"
Betsy nodded. "It's sometimes the only lifeline to sanity."
"And it might also help out a flailing empath with baggage?"
"It's a distinct possibility." She shrugged. "It certainly can't hurt."
Logan grinned. "Solution found. So all we have to do is go girlfriend shopping for the Cajun. Simple as that."
Her eyes nearly popped out of her head. "Girlfriend shopping?!"
"I don't see Gumbo getting all cuddly and personal with a guy, though with him I might be wrong. Can't tell nowadays, how some kids swing."
Betsy stood stunned for a few breaths, then the laughter started and didn't stop. Logan joined in and pretended to not notice the slight hysteria in her sounds of hilarity.
Bobby took a peek in the room from the noise but couldn't figure out what was so funny about a broom and a trash can, so he headed back downstairs for a late snack.
