Part Twenty-Six: The Perils of a Catholic Conscience and Small Spot of Extortion

So…..

Mon dieu, where to begin, non? It's been an interesting couple weeks, that's for damn sure. Genosha, far distant reaches of a galaxy far, far away, a small island off the northern coast of Scotland. Oui, it's been a strange time and no mistake.

Shit, but I just can't get my brain to work right; thoughts skittering around in this old skull fast enough to hurt. It's just too much, but not completely in a bad way (and that's what scares the hell outta me). The bottom line is I'm still here at the X-maison, cheek by jowl with a group of people who I happen to think are completely fucking insane and to top it all I'm making no effort whatsoever to get gone.

I have no idea why.

My house of cards is holding up pretty good as it towers over the bedside table. My hand's steady as I place the Queen of Hearts on top of the stack to create the base for another precarious layer, and oui, don't nobody need to point out the symbolism of the act because I am way ahead of you.

I suppose I should begin by explaining a few things, eh?

We……I mean the X-men, managed to sort out their messes in the end. First with those shape-shifting aliens and then with the Shadowking on Muir Island; I can't help but smile about that, it be good to know my Stormy be free of the homme for good, non? She don't need to have the fear of that mind stealing fucker hanging over her no more.

Of course it didn't turn out so good for yours truly, but I've been playing with a bad hand all my live long life so that don't bother me. Non, actually that's a god damn lie, I'm not dealing, but being mind-fucked by the Shadowking is still not a patch on Sinister and his lab.

I'm just going to have to cope with the fact that all the bad shit I'm trying to pretend don't exist in me anymore is not buried as deep as I wanted it to be and not likely to ever go away completely no matter what I want.

C'est la vie; it's not like I don't know I'm a fucked up, nasty piece of shit to begin with, oui? The important thing is making sure no one else works that out.

Mon dieu, but I never thought I could hit a child. Sweet God but I can't barely look at Jubilee without remembering that I struck her…..and I don't care what any of these X-men believe about the Shadow-homme bringing up the worst in a body's nature and all that crap. Non, I hit the petite because she was seriously pissing me off and because she was a safer target than striking out at the mangy Canuck.

I close my eyes and take a deep breath; this is getting intense and I know my fingers have gone and started glowing as I get messed up in my head again. Just when I think I've got a handle on the worst in me and start reaching for the best this happens and I feel like I'm back at square one. It's like someone up above (or down below) really enjoys messing with this poor bayou boy, non?

My hand trembles for just a moment as I try to place the joker on top of my newest layer. The whole tower of cards shivers and I lift my hand away, concentrating on forcing the tremor out of my hand and swallowing down this newest bite of evil.

I guess it's only a small thing really, eh? And it's not like the petite seem to care even. I mean in the grand scheme of all the evil in me smacking a kid 'cause she just won't shut her trap for five seconds flat is barely a ripple on the surface, oui?

I hired killers and opened the flood gates for wholesale slaughter. I used to hunt people down for crimes that be the same as my own and lead them into a cold blooded killer's trap. I used to destroy businesses and livelihoods and con people into aiding and abetting in my crimes. What is one act of aggression against a child, (aggression while under the influence of an evil psychic entity no less) compared to that, eh?

The house of cards falls down because I knock it down. Knock the whole damn edifice down with a flick of my finger; cards fall all over. The Ace of Spades and the Suicide King and the Queen of Hearts fall onto the counter-pane of the bed in the room I've been assigned here in the X-men stronghold. For the longest time I just look at them; what a strange mix, non?

I don't know what to do now; that little epiphany in deep space didn't do shit to make things any easier. I still don't know what I'm really doing here, or what I even want to do, and I'm still scared that there be too much poison in me to ever bleed out. I can't bring myself to call Nak Nak because then I got to tell her I hit a child. I had never hit a child in my life, never dreamed it even, and then I went and did it.

How is it possible that I seem to be getting worse and not better? Or does it just feel like that because for the first time ever I actually give a damn if my actions hurt somebody?

Gathering up the cards I shuffle the deck absently and then split the pack roughly before stuffing half the cards in one pocket of my trench and the other half in the other pocket. Armed and ready to face the denizens of X I leave my room; I need a smoke.

I'm drifting down the corridor from the elevator that took me up to the ground level (the X-men still cramming into the sub-basement, though with Professeur Xavier back the mansion is now in the process of being re-built – glory hallelujah) headed for the cold night outside when the voice stops me.

'Gambit!'

I pivot smoothly on my heel and stop the automatic reach for the cards in my pockets that my right hand tries to make. It's my own damn fault for picking a new name that sounds like a curse, that's all. That and the fact that mon Capitan Cyclops has the social skills of an army drill instructor who hasn't gotten laid in a decade.

'Oui, monsieur?'

I smirk at the man, twiddling a cigarette between my fingers. As far as I can tell there be no anti-smoking rule (despite M'sieur Bete's heckling) but as only me and the chevalier Logan indulge I'm trying to be courteous and only smoke on the grounds and not the sub-basement (the ventilation not so good down there anyway).

'What are you doing and where have you been all day?'

Cyclops asks me, and oui, I know the man's given name but as he seems to like to walk around all the God given day in a skin-tight blue bodysuit with a big white cross on it I can't bring myself to call him 'Scott'. Plus me and him be strangers and it's not polite to use a body's name without permission, non?

'Quoi?' I ask in response to what didn't sound like a particularly polite question.

It seems to moi, that it should be blatantly obvious what I'm doing anyway; I'm standing here waiting for the homme to tell me what he wants so I can pretend to listen and then get on with my smoke, comprende-vous?

Cyclops walks up to me from the direction of the half finished dining room (least I think that the room meant to be a dining room).

'I thought you had left the grounds, Gambit. You haven't been answering your comm.' The man frowns, I can just see the dip of his brows as they plunge below the line of his visor.

I stare at the homme. My comm.? What the hell is he talking……oh, shit! Almost guiltily I remember the communication device Stormy gave me the other day, the disk shaped badge with the red X emblazoned on it; the thing I took apart because I was curious how it worked and never bothered to re-assemble.

Oooops.

Meeting Cyclops less than amused regard I shrug one shoulder casually, 'I been 'ere de whole time mon ami, anyone knock on de door I woulda answered.'

Possibly, unless it was Wolverine, Jubilee, Banshee, Forge……well never mind, the principle of the thing is sound.

Cyclops does not look like he likes that answer too much. Though I admit it's a petit hard to read the man's expressions with the visor covering his eyes.

'Where is the comm. badge, Gambit? Storm told me she had issued you with one.'

Cyclops folds his arms across his chest and behind him I notice that Stormy is standing in the archway of the half finished dining room doorway, watching me with a slightly reproachful look. I can hear Jubilee giggling, hidden behind the partition wall.

'In the room I be stayin' in, mon ami.'

I answer, which is nothing less than the truth. Nobody needs to know it be in seventeen different pieces and I'm a petit bit uncertain I can put it back together again. Mon dieu, I didn't know Stormy gave it to me for real! I just thought she gave me a dud or something I could play with because I admitted to her I was curious about them. Shit; bet I'll have to pay for the damages now.

Cyclops still has his arms folded across his chest and this look of vaguely constipated annoyance on his face, 'Gambit comm. badges are supposed to be kept turned on at all times and kept with you.' He looks at me like I'm in some way mentally deficient and I bristle, 'Surely you can appreciate the need to remain in constant communication contact?'

Non, actually I don't understand that. Especially when, in the first case, I'm not a member of his merry squad of mentally impaired mutant altruists, and two, I been in my room the whole damn time!

I cock my head to the side and fold my arms across my chest in deliberate mimicry of his stance. I'm a guest in this half-built house, and a guest of tenuous standing, mais oui, but I'm not going to be patronised by a man in full body Lycra and a bright shiny yellow visor on his head. A man has his pride, oui?

'I been in dis house, such as it is,' I add with a raised eyebrow gesturing to the half-finished surroundings, 'de whole day, mon ami. All anybody had to do was knock on de damn door to find dat out.' I point out with exaggerated patience.

Jubilee is going to make herself sick, least that's what it sounds like from all the pants and wheezing I can hear from the other room as the petite try to contain her laughter. Stormy is watching me and Cyclops like she's expecting to have to leap between us at any moment. Cyclops purses his lips and they are white and bloodless.

'If you've been in the house all day why haven't you been up here helping with the renovations?' he asks obviously trying tres, tres hard not to snap at me like I'm some ill-behaved teenager.

I appreciate the restraint but not as much as he should. He be flat on his ass with a broken jaw if he try to lecture me, and that is no lie.

It's funny, I didn't have a problem with the homme barking out commands in Genosha, even listened to them, but the man got to learn the right time and place to be playing tin-pot general, non? Else wise me and him are going to have a pretty serious altercation sooner or later.

I blink as that last thought registers in my head. Why would this anal-retentive control freak and moi be having words, I wonder? I'm acting like I'm planning on staying on here; which I'm not, of course. I'm just staying until Stormy's settled. Then again, she looks pretty settled already and I'm not leaving so……

…….oh fuck it, shut up brain. Just shut up because we be going round in circles and getting nowhere. There is more than enough trouble to deal with already, Gambit. Namely the man in front of me, who looks about ready to zap me with one of his eye beams right through the wall.

'Gambit are you even listening to me?' Cyclops demands snapping my wandering thoughts back into order.

Oh bravo, Gambit, well done boy; I piss the man off, knowing he be dangerous and then I'm stupid enough not to pay attention. Anyone would think I had a death wish or something.

'Oui, Cyclops I 'eard you,' I lie casually, 'I did not know my assistance be required, no?' I smile faintly hoping to placate the man, 'Had I known I woulda come up sooner, d'accord?'

Cyclops watches me for a long moment (or at least I'm guessing he's watching me – with the visor it's hard to tell, non?) and then he let's the tension out of his shoulders, uncrossing his arms with a curt nod. I'll give the man that much, he's smart enough to know a losing battle when he sees one. Yelling at me is no way to get me to help with the plastering, n'est pas?

'Fine Gambit.' He grates out, though it clearly pains him dearly. Sadly I don't find myself feeling too sympathetic towards his plight however; funny that.

He sighs gathering himself, 'Now you are here you can help in the dining room,' his attention sharpens and I think for a moment I catch a flash of ruby red heat behind the visor, 'unless you have something more pressing to attend too?'

Cyclops asks archly and for a moment I am damned tempted to take that bait just to piss the man off as he is really getting on my nerves now. That tone of his voice is getting to me and if he's not real careful I'm going to kick the man in the balls, and screw the chain of command.

In fact why not just do it now, while the element of surprise is on my side, eh? I catch a glimpse of the look Stormy be giving me from behind Cyclops back and decide it's not worth it.

I'm pretty confident I can take down Mon Capitan, so long as I hit him hard and fast before he can use them eyes of his, but Stormy, mon dieu, ma belle Stormy fry me alive.

So, putting aside the tres appealing prospect of making sure Monsieur Summers never going to be breeding any lil' Summerses in this lifetime I nod to the man and brush by him into the half-done dining room.

I really don't understand myself no more; I didn't take this crap from Grey Crow, why the hell am I taking it from a stranger I don't much like?

Walking into the dining room I see the Petite grinning at me all red faced and bright eyed from laughter and despite feeling guilty every time I look at the fille now I can't help but feel a smirk curving over my lips in reply (oui I have the emotional maturity of a thirteen year old, but at least I'm man enough to admit it, eh?).

Stormy drifts over beside me and tugs me across the room to where she's been working on the wallpapering.

'You are a man who loves to live dangerously, my friend.'

Stormy shakes her head, turning away just a little trying to hide the smile on her face, but I know it's there no matter how hard she tries to act like she disapproves.

'One day you will find yourself in more trouble than you can talk your way out of.' She murmurs in my ear as she dumps a roller into my hands and directs me to start pasting the walls.

I grin at her, aware of the other people in the room watching me, 'Non Stormy, never happen yet and it never gon happen. I can talk my way outta anyt'ing me.'

'What did you do to the comm. unit I gave you?'

She eventually asks me as the attention of Banshee, the femme Moira Mactaggart, Forge and Jean Grey goes back to their own business and not me and mine. I wince at the question and don't control it fast enough; Stormy sees and frowns at me.

'Gambit?'

I avoid her eyes, shrugging awkwardly, 'I'll put it back together Stormy, be good as new.'

Stormy closes her eyes and shakes her head slowly but all she says to me is, 'Do not call me that.'

'D'accord,' I give in for now. If Stormy's prepared to keep the secret about my act of unconscious vandalism I will try to remember not to call her Stormy…..at least until I can repair the stupid thing anyhow.

Behind our backs the petite Jubilee giggles; I knew she had been sneaking up on us (or trying to at least) and I think Stormy knew too. I turn to look over my shoulder at the fille.

'Something funny p'tite?' I raise an eyebrow.

'Oh yeah,' Jubilee pops her gum loudly. 'I'm just trying to imagine Cyke's face when I tell him you broke your comm. badge, Gumbo; your ass is grass.'

She grins at me like a lil' devil but keeps her voice down; the fille knows that a secret is only good for blackmail so long as no one hears it first.

I roll my eyes as beside me Stormy bristles, 'Jubilee that is….'

I wave my hand to stop Stormy from making the situation worse by getting mad. I'm watching the wicked glint in the Petite's eyes the whole time. I don't give a damn really if she runs and tells Captain Uptight that I broke his toy, but I owe this fille for what I did to her on Muir lsland.

I would never have thought I could strike out at a child and I'm mad enough at myself about that that if the kid wants to blackmail me I'll let her – hell, it's a good skill to learn, non?

'What dis gon cost me, p'tite?' I ask mildly.

Jubilee's grinning real wide now, like the Cheshire Cat or something. Sometimes I think me and this fille got far too much in common. 'An IOU, Cajun. One I can cash in at anytime.'

I cock my head to the side and feel my smirk broaden. Oui, I like this petite fille; she's fun. Stormy looks between me and Jubilee and narrows her eyes at me before trying to appeal to the Petite's sense of right and wrong (she knows I be a lost cause there, after all).

'Jubilee blackmail is wrong.' She says softly but her heart is not really in it.

'Oui, but it's tres effective,' I say before the Petite can think of a come back.

I know that the rest of the room is starting to get curious again now and I don't want Jubilee's scam ruined before she can make good on it. As a con man myself I know how much it sucks when a swindle falls through.

I look at the fille before me and nod with mock solemnity, 'D'accord p'tite, I give you a favour, but it got to be b'tween us; tell anyone and de deal is off, agreed?'

I offer my hand as is fitting for this sort of thing. Jubilee is beaming, real happy with herself, and the tight pinch of guilt that I've been carrying around with me since Muir Island relaxes from my shoulders.

Jubilee reaches for my hand and we shake; the Petite's not used to it and her small hand is tentative in mine. I grin into her eyes as I give into a lil' bit of temptation and raise her captured hand to my lips just briefly.

'A pleasure doing business wit' you, Mademoiselle Jubilation.' The fille goes bright red before pulling her hand away and I let her scuttle off (don't want the psycho midget thinking I'm after his chippy, non?).

Satisfied that I've settled the guilt debt between me and the fille Jubilee, and made the lil' femme blush real nice, I turn back to my wall paper duties. Stormy clucks her tongue at me with indulgent humour in her eyes.

'You may find yourself paying a very steep price for this my friend, far worse than any censure Scott could devise.'

I chuckle lightly, aware of the faintly suspicious and avid curiosity of the other X-men at my back like pins and needles down my spine.

'I like the p'tite,' I shrug speaking softly because I'm not interested in sharing my business with a bunch of folks too rude to just damn well ask, 'Not like I be stayin' around long enough to let the fille collect on the debt anyway, non?'

Stormy glances at me amused, but I think I see just a hint of concern in her eyes for a moment too, 'So you say, my friend, so you say.'

I smile at her, 'Oui Stormy, so I say.'