Adrian: Hey, people! I'm back! After the super long gap between the last two chapters, I figured I might as well churn out a new chapter ASAP. This story is one that I definitely, definitely will be finishing.

Of course, it helps that I just made my way through the ENTIRE New Sun arc, as well as the Gambit-as-Death Apocalypse Arc, X-Men: Legacy (though not the whole thing), and the very beginning of Gambit & Bishop. So, yeah. I've been seriously hitting the comics lately. It's great for inspiration. Especially of the Storm/Gambit friendship kind. You know, for being just best friends, they make out an awful lot…Well, who am I to break the trend?

Oh, yeah, there's also a lot of B.S. biology crap that I've spewed off the top of my head, so if there's anyone super into biology and I've just completely messed up here, sorry. I'm working off of the basics of what I know about cell structure for this, and making the rest up from there: mitochondria control your body's energy.

Disclaimer: Of course I own Gambit. He's mine. All mine. No one else's. Not even Rogue's. That's why I'm writing fanfiction, because I own him entirely. Duh.

Out of the Frying Pan

Chapter Ten: Empathy

X-Mansion
Bayville, New York:
June 18 – 12:02 P.M.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

"Comein," Professor Xavier called, not even so much as looking up from the files he was going over.

"Y' wanted t' see me, Prof?" Remy asked, stepping through the door.

"Ah, yes, Remy," Charles noted. He rested the papers down and looked up, shooting a smile at the slightly nervous young man. "Please, have a seat. There are some things I'd like to go over with you. Dr. McCoy received your results from the lab at Muir Island yesterday."

"Oh. F'got about those," Remy muttered, plopping himself down into the chair in front of the desk. "So what's m' prognosis, doc?" he asked with an over-exaggerated sigh.

"You seem sassy today," the Professor remarked with an amused smile. Shifting through the files, he pulled out one in particular before continuing to address the young man. "Your prognosis, as it were, is truly amazing. Your body seems to have been built strictly to process energy. Your mutation is the reason why you find yourself incapable of sitting still for too long, why you have such an accelerated metabolism, and even, to a degree, one of the reasons why you have such impenetrable mental shields. Your mitochondria are producing energy at unexplainable rates, pumping so much through your body that it needs to be emitted. And those are just your primary bodily functions. That doesn't even begin to get into all the intricacies of your ever-developing powers. And, speaking of powers, that's the main reason I called you down here today. It just so happened that I recently finished speaking with Beast about your results."

"Waddaya mean, dat's the reason y' called me down 'ere?" the Cajun boy frowned, sitting up a little in his seat. Professor Xavier's voice had taken on a serious quality that he really didn't like. It was the same tone that had come before such announcements as 'Your dog Julia just died', 'You're marrying Belladonna', 'I accidentally flushed Goldie, your pet frog, down the toilet', 'You're brother's being attacked by alligators!' and 'Magneto's been killed by Apocalypse.' It was a tone that definitely, definitely never brought anything good for him, and Gambit was half expecting the Professor to tell him that, no, there was nothing he could do to help him, he was on his own, good luck, and don't blow anything up on the way out! What he got was much more surprising, but just as bad in his mind.

"Remy," Charles began slowly, "I know about your secondary mutation. Your empathy. I also know that you have even less control over that than you do over your kinesis. Most importantly, though, I know that if you do not learn how to control and successfully process through the ability, your shields will crumble and the overwhelming nature of it all will drive you crazy and kill you."

Silence. There was absolute silence from Remy as the red-eyed young man processed what he had just been told. His face was stone-like, and the bald Professor could just picture the way his eyes had to be burning underneath the constant shades he wore over his unique eyes. Finally, he spoke.

"I'm not gonna bother askin' how the hell y' know about dat, Prof, 'cause quite frankly Ah pro'ly won't get the answer Ah wanna hear. I just wanna know what your point is by tellin' me all this."

"I'm telling you that I believe I can help you control your empathy, and if you can learn to control it, you might have an easier time with your kinesis. After all, your kinetic abilities are largely influenced by your emotional state. But this decision is entirely up to you."

"Entirely up to me?" Remy laughed. His shades dropped low on his nose, revealing his bright his eyes were shining. Remy LeBeau was more than a little pissed off. "It don't seem like Ah have much of a choice here, M'sieur. I agreed to stay here, but Ah don't much appreciate dis invasion o' privacy."

The Professor sighed, resting his hands flat on his desk as he leaned in. He could very much understand the Cajun's concerns. "It was not meant as an invasion of privacy, Remy, I assure you. I simply had my suspicions, and the labs from Muir Island confirmed them."

Remy 'hmph'ed and slumped back into his seat, crossing his arms across his chest. "Well—y' really think it's dat important, hein?" The look on Xavier's face revealed the answer. The red-eyed young man sighed. "Fine. Sure. We do dis, but I ain't want no one else knowin' 'bout it."

"Of course not," the bald man replied lightly, shifting the papers on his desk to pull out a calendar. "We can meet every Tuesday and Thursday at 3 p.m. starting tomorrow. Is that alright for you?"

Gambit scowled. "S'not like I have much choice dere now. If dat's all?" he glared, shoving himself out of the seat.

Responding with a pleasant smile, Charles dismissed him with an amiable, "I'll see you tomorrow, Remy."

So caught up in his internal self-pitying spiel as he all but stormed out, the Cajun nearly bowled into Jean, heading into the office he just came out of. "Sorry 'bout dat, chere," he grinned at her. The redhead smiled back.

"No problem at all, Gambit," she returned, slipping into the Professor's office. As soon as she left, a frown made his way over his face. He had felt something from her strongly pressing against his mental barriers—and it wasn't her telepathy. It was an emotion: cold, dark, and all encompassing. It was fear.

"What dat girl got t' be scared of?" Remy muttered to himself, making his way to the kitchen. He had been on his way to breakfast when the Professor had mentally summoned him. The man must have just had his mind probing for the instant the teen awoke.

"G'morning, Stormy," the brown-haired boy announced, noticing the woman eating her lunch at the surprisingly quiet kitchen table. The two had formed a sort of camaraderie since the rest of the mansions inhabitants had returned a few days ago. It was either due to their common shared thieving heritage, or the fact that Gambit was actually willing to put up with her obsessive-compulsive gardening to the point where he would even help her with it. It took a brave man to risk damaging Ororo Munroe's garden, even accidentally.

"Good afternoon, Remy," Storm replied with a slightly annoyed smile on her face as she sipped at her cup of tea. "And for the last time, do not call me that. I can and will strike you with lightning."

"Eh, I'll take m' chances. Stormy," he grinned, grabbing the cereal and milk from the fridge and joining her at the table. "So, you know what Rogue's up to today, by any chance?"

"Making up on lost danger room sessions with Logan. Something about you hogging the DR because you destroyed the Med Lab…?" the white-haired woman trailed off, a frown decorating her beautiful brown face.

"Dat was an accident an' you know it. Well, since Ah can't bother m' soon to be girlfriend, whatever will Ah do?" Gambit pondered aloud, his red eyes flashing mischievously.

Ororo huffed out loud, pushing herself up from the table. "You certainly cannot follow me around like the lost puppy you pretend to be. Besides, I'm going into town, and you know the Professor asked that you remain on the Institute grounds in light of your…circumstances."

Scowling, the teen glared at that table. It certainly wasn't his fault that his powers were evolving out of control or that crazy mutants were trying to kidnap him for nefarious purposes. "What I ever do t' deserve this?" Remy bemoaned.

"I'm sure you have done plenty of bad things in your life, Gambit, but I assure you that none of what's happening is because you deserve it. Besides, it's not as if you're locked up here. You're free to come and go as you please, Charles only made a request of you. There's also a plethora of activities around the mansion. As a matter of fact, I believe I overheard your friend St. John planning something for you with Piotr."

Storm smiled at the groan she received in response. As she turned the tap on, the windrider contemplated the boy seated at the table behind her. For someone who didn't take well to being in one place for too long, he was holding up surprisingly well for the near week he'd been stuck only at the Institute, not even allowed to so much as go into town. Pyro had had to finish all of Remy's underwear shopping for him. That did not a happy Cajun make, though the woman assumed that when she had returned with the group on vacation, things had eased up a little now that the poor boy had an actual friend who lived at the school. Having Piotr to hang out with had certainly made things easier for the thief. Ororo knew for a fact that Remy didn't need things any harder on himself. Not with the problems he was currently facing.

The minute she had returned to the Institute, Charles had whisked her to the side to explain their new resident. Storm had found the situation surprising, but she had been downright shocked when the telepath had requested her to act as a sort of mentor to the young man.

"Goodness knows he doesn't need any of Logan's influence," the bald man had remarked with a laugh, and the weather witch couldn't help but find herself agreeing. All Logan really did was smoke, drink, gamble, and fight. Remy seemed to have a pretty good grip on that side of life already. So she had agreed, and Ororo couldn't say that she regretted that decision one bit so far. He had many interesting stories, and the more time they spent together, the more the woman found they had in common. Both had grown up on the streets without parents (though the circumstances differed), both had been lead into lives of thieving, both had incredibly powerful abilities directly linked to their emotional state. Not to mention that the boy could garden.

"But Stormy," Gambit continued to wheedle, breaking the windrider's train of thought. He dragged his spoon around in the little bit of milk left from the way he'd attacked the food. "I'll go crazy sittin' here all day by myself! Y' can only play so many games o' solitaire 'fore strange things start happenin' to your mind. 'Sides," he added, "I completely almost trust y' to take care o' any big, bad monsters tryin' to hurt dis here boy."

"And what about all those people 'this here boy' could accidentally hurt in the crossfire, hm? It's much like the time I once caused a brush fire in Wakanda practicing my lightning with T'Challa. The difference being that I could summon the rain to put a stop to the raging fire. You, on the other hand, can't control all the destruction you will sow."

With an over exaggerated sigh, the Cajun rested his spoon down. He knew when he was defeated. "Oh, yeah, 'cause dis big hunk o' metal on my neck is completely useless. Ah, well. M'sieur Wolvie can't keep dat girl locked in combat all day. 'specially not when he's got a fine, sexy lady like you waitin' on him." A wink and that charming smile, and then Remy stood up with deliberate slowness, stretching his back as he moved.

"That's the spirit, my dear Acadian friend," Storm replied, with a smile. She gave him a slight pat on the back as she walked by on her way out of the kitchen. That's why the white-haired mutant was completely caught off guard when she was grabbed by the waist, spun around, and found herself caught in a lip-lock with the handsome young devil. Seconds later, right as the shock was beginning to wear off, Remy released her.

"Merci beaucoup, ma belle," a bow, and then the imp scampered out of the kitchen, his laughter ringing in her ears as a bolt of lightning struck across the clear blue sky.

Storm would most definitely be paying him back for this later.

Brotherhood of Mutants
Bayville, New York:
June 18 – 1:19 P.M.

"No!" Wanda roared, slamming her hands down on the kitchen table. "I'm not doing it!"

"Wanda, I know this might be hard for you, but it's for your own benefit. When have I ever done something that wasn't ultimately for your own good?" Magneto replied, giving his daughter a level stare.

"I'm not moving to the Institute! If anyone so much as thinks of crossing me, I can rip them apart! I don't need those assholes," the black-and-red haired girl sneered. Rage was etched into her face, and those hard brown eyes glared a hole right through her father's head.

"Eh…Sheila…maybe we should listen to your father, eh?" her currently timid boyfriend piped up from where he was sitting. "I mean…you saw wot they did to Rems."

"And you saw what I did to them! I'm not moving!" At the last word, the house shook with the force of Avalanche PMSing, but Magneto wasn't paying his daughter anymore mind. His gaze was now leveled at Pyro, who let out a small 'meep' when he noticed.

"What they did to Gambit?" The Master of Magnetism's voice left no room for questioning.

"Uh…yeh…about that, actually, Mags…It was like…them! And then Sabretooth! And then, blam! And then 'is side wos gone! And then it wos like, no bloody way! I personally can't believe it meself, and it happened right in front of me!" As the Aussie continued to babble, Magneto turned his eyes back to his daughter.

"Explain, please. I can never understand that idiot when he gets on a roll."

"Those guys…Marauders, as you called them, attacked Gambit and Rogue at the mall. Luckily, Pyro and I were there or else the whole place would be a giant mass of ash now because that idiot can't control his stupid powers," the moody girl replied crossing her arms. "And I'm still not moving to the mansion, so don't push me," she added.

"You don't understand who you're dealing with, Wanda, but I do. If this monster sets his sights on you, he will go to all lengths to have you and keep you. With your power, there's a strong chance that he might notice you!" The worried father returned earnestly. He ran a hand through his white locks in frustration.

"Well, then," the sour-faced teenager snapped back, "It's a good thing I can alter probabilities, isn't it?"

"Y-know-sis," a new voice from the doorway popped up, and the three people in the kitchen looked to see Pietro leaning in the doorway, still for what might've been the first time in his life, "Maybe-you-should-listen-to-dad-he's-only-trying-to-help."

"Well, then, he can help himself out the door because I'm not going anywhere."

"Very well," Magneto replied, standing up from the table to tower slightly over his daughter. "If that is your final decision on the matter, I will respect it."

"Goodbye, Father," the Scarlet Witch dismissed with an air of finality.

"Goodbye, Wanda. Pietro."

"Bye-dad!" the speedster replied in a rush, giving his father a second-long hug before zipping off somewhere else.

Shooting one last look back at his erstwhile daughter and future son-in-law, the magnetic mutant walked through the living room towards the front door. As he walked, he observed the other members of the house living in their squalor. Toad and Blob stood towards the corner, the former hopping around the latter one, quietly trying to explain something to him without bothering their pseudo-leader. Said pseudo-leader lay on the couch (again), nursing a hangover (again). It seemed that was all Avalanche got up to these days, from the various observations Magneto had been having others make on the place. Maybe it had something to do with being dumped by Kitty two weeks ago. Lance just hadn't taken the break-up well at all.

Magneto could not believe that he had once entrusted his mission to these pathetic…teenagers. At the time, though, he had just seen them for their powers: for how best they could be used to his advantage. He hadn't taken their personalities into account at all. The only members of the original team who really had some hope were Rogue, who had joined the X-Men, and Avalanche, who had tried to join the X-Men. Even Pietro wasn't that well-equipped for the things the Master of Magnetism requested of them, but Magnus would forever hold out hope for his son.

That was why, when Magneto had put together his new team, his Acolytes, he had put time and consideration into each possibility. He had mentally calculated who would work best together, who could best play off each other's strengths and weaknesses, who was just desperate enough to join his side, consequences be damned. Colossus had been easy enough; all the powerful mutant had to do was offer to get his sister adequate medical attention, and the metallic man was in. Pyro had seen Magneto as his only way out of a bad situation. Banned from his homeland, the Australian hadn't really had anywhere else to go. Gambit, however, had taken a little more convincing. Although the then-seventeen-year-old was living on his own, having run away from home, he was a professional thief and a damn good one at that. Remy had been living the high life. He'd been rolling along as if he had no care in the world. Magneto had actually been forced to offer money up front to prove he could pay the Cajun well enough should the boy join his team.

The money had been well-spent. From the moment the three had met, they had formed a connection. Colossus, ever the strong silent type, was the brute force of the trio, and preferred to spend his time sitting quietly in his room painting. He tended to be the voice of reason when St. John and Remy decided they wanted to do something ridiculously stupid as young men are prone to. Pyro, whose mind bordered on insanity on the best of days, was a surprisingly good tactician (probably from all the writing he did in his free time), but tended to have a very destructive nature. The Aussie was usually the cause of any and all trouble they got in. Gambit balanced the two of them out nicely. With his generally easy-going, flirtatious personality he could get Piotr to loosen up and St. John to mellow out, most of the time. He could usually come up with a plan that was an equal balance of crazy and reasonable. His unique skill set brought a finesse for getting a job done that none of their powers could have ever accomplished.

Magnus couldn't even quite pinpoint when he began looking at the three less as tools to accomplish his goals and more as the type of sons he had always wished to have (because, in all honesty, Pietro was a complete failure, and even the brief time the boy had spent with the Acolytes hadn't changed that). The man had only noticed it after he'd returned from Apocalypse to find a disbanded team. The three of them had moved on with their lives and separated: Colossus and Pyro barely talked anymore, and neither of them had heard from Gambit since he left for his hometown. Of course, Magneto could have predicted that one day they would all be together again; as Sabretooth often pointed out, the three were inseparable. It had only been a matter of time. And the time, it seemed, was now.

With a barely visible smile, the metal-controlling mutant stepped into the limo he had waiting as his chauffer held the door open for him, not even sparing a second glance at the dilapidated house his real children lived in. Magnus had a brilliant idea.

"Mystique," he called out, and the window separating the driver from the passenger rolled down, giving the older gentleman time to watch the brown-haired man turn into his favourite blue-skinned lady. She shot him a questioning glance through the rear view mirror. "I need you to prepare the new team. I know exactly what their first test will be."

X-Mansion
Bayville, New York:
June 18 – 4:33 P.M.

"So bored, homme!" The Cajun exclaimed, flinging himself down onto his bed.

"Well, we could always—"

"Ve are not setting anyzing to fire, comrade," the hulking Russian artist firmly stated without looking up from the drawing he was working on. The way his pencil moved across the page in smooth, wave-like motions had had St. John completely entranced. Of course, Remy wasn't nearly so easily distracted, and his comment had broken what little concentration their Australian friend had been using. "And Remy cannot leave mansion."

"Really?" Pyro asked boredly, tilting his head to look up at Piotr. He currently sat against the wall between the two beds, one where Remy was sprawled out on his back with one arm tossed over his face, looking as if all the world was out to get him, and the other where Piotr sat, completely involved in his artwork. Pyro continued, "Because I though he just couldn't go out alone. Or with only one other person. So far as I know, there are two of us here."

"Actually," the Cajun spoke up, shifting his body to lean on his arm so he could see his friends, "M'sieur Professeur only made a request o' me. Ah'm free t' come n' go as I please."

"Well, that settles it!" John announced, jumping to his feet. His head darted rapidly to look at both of them as a wild grin spread across his face. "Your problem, mate, is that you're too bloody tired of bein' holed up in here. In all honesty, I don't think I remember you ever spending longer than three hours at a time at the base. You're almost more restless than I am!" A psychotic giggle escaped from his throat.

"Very well," Piotr acquiesced. "Ve go out, but only for short vhile. And I know zat ve vill regret zis."

"Lighten up, Petey," Remy commanded as he stood up and reached his arms over his head in a stretch. "Dis is a great idea. We just go into town f' an hour or two, leave a note so no one worries, an' pass de time in some stupid, immature way. Ah call dibs on stealin' Scott's car!"

With a tired sigh, Colossus, too, stood. And deep in his spirit, he knew that something really, really bad was going to come out of this. Or that could just be due to years of experience in dealing with these idiots and the fact that the outcome of their expeditions usually resulted in something bad, if only because Pyro was involved...

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

One hour later found the three stooges boredly sitting in a diner, slurping on their respective milkshakes (or Icee in John's case, as he was lactose intolerant).

"So, been outta de mansion f' a while, and my final verdict? Still bored," Remy drawled lazily, swirling his straw around in his chocolate drink. His chin rested on his other hand as he stared over the rim of the glass to where John had all but conked out with his head on the table. Piotr was still sketching away in that damnable art book of his.

"That sounds like a personal problem," a sultry voice commented, and the three men looked up in time to see a very well-endowed dark-haired woman plop herself down at their table between the foreign mutants and across from the thief. All three frowned, and both Piotr and John looked to Remy to take the lead.

The cool Cajun leaned back in his seat, eyes unreadable through the dark sunglasses perched on his nose. "Mystique," he greeted simply.

A smirk crossed the woman's face as blue eyes flashed yellow for a moment. "Gambit. Pyro. Colossus," she returned the greeting with a nod to each one, casually observing. Colossus sat tense, his gaze locked on the three's de facto leader, while Pyro had gone back to sipping at his Icee, curiosity piqued. Gambit leaned back casually, one arm slung over the top of his chair with the other swirling his milkshake around. The shape shifter noted the image inducer slapped onto his wrist, most likely to hide the power negator he no doubt wore around his neck considering the thief still wore his shades.

"What'chu want, chere?"

"Magneto has a...proposition for you all, his favourite team of acolytes. A business venture, if you will."

"Nyet!" Piotr exclaimed, bringing a fist down heavily. A large crack appeared in the wooden table.

St. John laid a hand against his large friend's bicep, shooting the Russian a look that could only be deciphered by the three boys. Remy noted this and frowned to himself before responding.

"See, dere's a slight problem wit' whatever deal Mags is gon' offer us. See, Petey here has got dis great gig goin' wit' de X-Men, and dey generally a good group o' people opposed to any deals wit' ol' Bucket Head. 'Sides, Petey's loyal to a fault; he ain't gonna do a thing t' mess up his chances after dey so graciously took him in. Johnnie boy don't got no problem here, an' Ah usually wouldn't, but seein' as Ah'm sorta in de same boat as dis homme here," he patted the large man firmly on the shoulder, "We gon' have to pass."

"Magneto figured you would say that," Mystique commented idly, crossing her legs.

"If he knew what we was gon' say, why'd he even bother askin'?"

The usually blue-skinned woman shot him an amused look. "Because now you're curious. When you do decide to help, everything you need to know is in this folder. Have a good day, fellows," and with that, she stood up, brushed her sexy business suit off, and sauntered out of the little diner.

The three men looked at each other for a moment before Pyro finally broke the silence with a loud slurp from his Icee.

"Well, that was awkward," he declared, taking another loud slurp as if to emphasize his point.

"Y' tellin' me, homme," Remy muttered, fingering the manila envelope Mystique had left on the table. "No woman has breasts dat naturally large."

"You are not seriously contemplating her offer, Comrade," Piotr said with a frown. "As much as ve may appreciate everyzing Magneto has done for us, ve are staying vith ze X-men now. You especially cannot afford to be kicked out for, how you say, fraternizing vith enemy."

"Chill, big guy," the Cajun drawled with a light smirk tossed at his friend. "Ah ain't dat stupid. I'll destroy it soon as we get back to de mansion, bien?"

With a huff the Russian settled down. Silence reigned over the table for a few more moments, and then...

"So...what do we do now, mates?"

TBC...

Adrian: My chapters continue to get progressively longer! I hope I didn't disappoint you guys too bad with the wait; it was definitely shorter than last time. And this time's an actual chapter, not just an interlude. Please Review!

Next time:

Professor Xavier and Remy tackle our dear Cajun's mental problems. Can they make it through their first session without either of them being driven insane?

Magneto's got a plan. What ill or good tidings does it bring our hapless hero (and his two loyal sidekicks)?

Rogue and Remy have some catching up to do. They have to talk about their problems sooner or later, right? But how open will either of them really be?

Wolverine. Logan still owes Remy revenge for his motorcycle. Will Storm talk him out of it or decide to help?

And this author likes reviews. Will more reviews make her update faster?

The answer to these questions and more—next time on Out of the Frying Pan!

Review!