X-Men: A New Battle, Part 6
Summary: An X-Men: the Movie sequel. It's starting to get interesting, folks! Rogue finds out who Remy LeBeau really is.
Disclaimer: I don't own Gambit (damn), or Rogue, or any of the other X-Men. They are Marvel's, and the movie is Fox's. I am not making any money from this (damn again), so please don't sue.
Author's Note: Not much to say, but I feel strangely compelled to include an author's note no matter what. I love your feedback!! (Hint, hint)
~*~
He called.
Marie had heard dozens of horror stories in which the girl met the guy of her dreams, but he never called. Remy called.
She and Kitty had been begging for their own phone lines for quite some time. The professor finally gave in two months ago. But the number had never really come in handy until she scribbled it down on a napkin, handing it to the Cajun.
The answering machine's happy blips greeted her when she entered her room after class. A push of a button informed her that she had "two new messages and zero old messages."
The first was Kitty asking about advanced physics homework. Boring. Skip.
The second was Remy. She recognized the warm velvety voice instantly, and her heart skipped a beat.
"Marie?" He was twisting her name again, turning it into a thing of beauty as the vowels and consonants evolved into something beyond their former selves. "Dis is Remy LeBeau." As if that weren't obvious.
He went on to say that he'd very much like to see her again, and went off on a small tangent in French, which she enjoyed playing back and listening to over and over again.
Finally she collected the nerve to call the number he left.
It was answered immediately. "What the hell do you want?" demanded a female voice.
A woman. Why is a woman answering Remy's phone? Rogue was completely thrown off guard. "Uh… is Remy there?"
"LeBeau! One of your lady friends is on the phone!"
Marie didn't know whether to be thankful that this woman was obviously on barely civil terms with Remy, or upset that she was 'one of his lady friends.'
"Alló?"
"Remy, sugah. It's Marie."
"Chére! How're y'?"
"Good, and how're ya?"
"Good, now dat y've called."
Marie couldn't help but grin, although the lady friends thing was still bothering her. "So Ah'm 'one a' yer lady friends,' huh, swamp rat?" she asked, stressing the 's' in friends.
"Non, non, y're m'only lady friend, chére, y'don' got t'worry. Phillipa is… misinformed. Y're de only one Remy wan's."
"Stop makin' us sick, Cajun," spat another voice in the background.
"Une minute, chére, Remy's gon' t'take de phone in a more… private place." After a couple clicks he was back. "Y'still dere, chére?"
"Yeah, Ah'm heah, sugah."
They made plans to meet at a cozy little restaurant on Saturday. Rogue figured she could find some sort of transportation, but ended up walking to the bus station and taking it to within a block of the place.
Remy was already sitting at a table by the front window, the setting sun reflecting in his sunglasses and playing across strands of chestnut hair.
"Ya heah all by yer lonesome, or are ya meetin' someone, sugah?"
"Chére!" He took her hand and brought it to his lips, not letting go of it even as she sat down across from him. They chatted easily and constantly, only breaking contact and quieting when their food came.
Marie shivered once from a breeze and Remy immediately put his leather duster around her shoulders. It smelled like Remy, tobacco and cologne and overall sweetness, but not overpowering. She put her hands in the pockets once, not thinking. Marlboros, a lighter, change, a small stick, and… playing cards?
After they'd ordered dessert, Remy saw something over Marie's shoulder outside, and swore.
"What?" She turned to look, but he put a hand to her face- he'd decided to wear gloves as well, that night- to prevent her from doing so.
"Mebbe he won' see us."
They had no such luck.
A large man burst into the quiet restaurant. He wore some kind of fur, and snarled at the staring patrons. Sabertooth. Marie panicked. What's he doin' heah?
Remy stood up slowly, not showing the slightest sign of fear. "Y'can' touch me, y'know. Essex'll kill y'."
Essex? Surely not Nathaniel Essex, also known as Sinister.
Sabertooth gripped Remy's neck firmly, lifting the tall man easily. "No one has to tell him, now do they?" He traced Remy's cheek with a claw. "I would love to slit your throat right now. Just like I did to that girlfriend of yours. Do you remember that, LeBeau?"
"Nique-toi, Creed," he spat, tearing off a glove and gripping Sabertooth's jacket in order to- do what, exactly?
Sabertooth dropped him, and the Cajun fell to the floor with a thud. He reached for a pocket that wasn't there and swore. "Mes cartes, chérie!" he called to Marie.
Sabertooth was ready to attack, claws unsheathed. Remy grabbed the only loose object he had- his sunglasses- and held them up. His hand began to glow a light orange-red, then the glow spread to the glasses as well. He flung the glasses at his enemy, and they exploded on impact.
Marie gasped. What had Remy just done? She stared at the fight, entranced, but had the presence of mind to dig out the pack of cards she'd found and toss them to Remy.
"Merci, chére." He repeated the process he'd performed on the glasses on a card. Sabertooth growled as it hit, and swiped at Remy with a clawed hand. Remy flipped backward to avoid it, landing easily on his feet.
Marie jammed her hands back in the coat's pockets, looking for something that Remy might need. She pulled out the short metal stick curiously, turning it in her hand to examine it closer. It extended as she turned it, almost hitting her in the mouth.
"What in tarnation?"
"T'anks again, ma chére." Remy let loose another handful of cards, then took the staff from Rogue. He planted it firmly in the floor, and used the leverage to catapult through the air until his feel connected solidly with Sabertooth's chest.
Sabertooth got up, throwing Remy against a wall. The Cajun groaned and stirred slightly. Sabertooth picked him up and repeated the process, until Remy was still.
Rogue ducked down under the table, praying Sabertooth wouldn't notice or recognize her. He didn't. He growled at the patrons one more time, then left.
"Remy? Remy! Are ya okay? Please be okay!" Marie ran to his side and shook him desperately.
He let out a long stream of guttural curses, a colorful mix of French and English, and pulled himself into a sitting position. He stared at the floor and took a deep breath. "Chére, y'd better go."
"Ah'm not leavin' 'till Ah'm sure ya're all right." She put a hand to the side of his face, which he shrugged off.
"'M fine."
"No, ya're not. Look at me." She put a leather-clad finger under his chin, lifting his face until she was staring into his eyes.
His red and black eyes.
Logan's words came back to her, mixing with the tumult of emotions assaulting her brain. "…Damn Gambit kid. Does some thing to cards, makes 'em explode when they hit… That kid's the devil, I swear. You didn't see his eyes, Marie. Blood-red on pitch black. And completely empty. Promise me you'll never get involved with anyone like that ever, darlin'."
"I'm a mutan' too, chére," Remy told her quietly.
She backed away from him slowly. "G- g-" She tried to get the word out of her mouth, which had suddenly gone dry. "Gambit," she finally managed. "Ya're Gambit."
"Oui, je suis Gambit." His gaze dropped back to the floor.
"Gambit," she repeated, closing her eyes in pain. "Gambit."
"Chére, I-"
She stood up, still backing away. A tear escaped from her eye, and she blinked it away angrily. That damn lying Cajun bastard wasn't worth crying over. "Don't try ta talk ta me, ya heah, Gambit? Ah nevah want ta see ya again." With that, she ran out of the restaurant and all the way back to the mansion.
Logan had been wrong about one thing, though. His eyes… they weren't the cold, hard eyes of a demon she would've expected. They were beautiful, sparkling rubies against a midnight sky. And they held the world in them.
~*~
Remy LeBeau, the mutant known as Gambit, slammed his car door behind him angrily and stormed into Sinister's base, his home for longer than he'd care to admit.
"Date not go well?" asked Vertigo, voice saccharine sweet.
He didn't reply, merely stomped past her toward his room.
"Gambit?" It was Sinister. Remy let out a sigh of relief. He'd much rather face the mad scientist than several of the others around.
"Oui?"
"Did Sabertooth attack you?" Remy said nothing, but looked down at his claw-tattered clothing. "He did, didn't he?"
Gambit sighed. He was Sinister's pet, and Sabertooth knew it. It therefore wasn't Gambit's fault that Sabertooth would be punished. The animal was, after all, only a Marauder.
"Gambit, honey. I was worried about you, running around with that good-for-nothing tramp of an-"
"Vertigo, s'il vous plait. Gambit don' wan' t'hear it maintenant." He managed a small smirk of a smile, and tried to edge past her to his room.
"Hold on a sec, why don't you?" She put a hand to his chest preventing him from walking forward. Her other hand snaked up to around his neck, entangling itself in soft auburn hair. "You still in such a rush to leave, Gambit?" she purred.
He humored her with a smile and a quick kiss. He'd slept with her once, and she hadn't left him alone since. "Gambit really need t'go, chére."
Vertigo frowned and abruptly drew away. "Fine," she spat.
Gambit breathed a sigh of relief, went into his room and flopped dejectedly on his bed.
"You alright, LeBeau?"
He looked up at the mutant in his doorway. Lorna Dane, also known as Polaris. She was just as dangerous as the rest of them, but Remy somehow got the impression that it was a put-on. Before his empathic powers were dampened, he had noticed a definite lack of the same through-and-through malice as the other Marauders. He still picked it up occasionally.
"Gambit jus' peachy, chére."
She entered the room, reclining in a chair as she fidgeted with the choker perpetually around her neck. "Troubles with the women? The first time I've heard that with you, Cajun."
"Oui. M'girl ditches me when she sees m'eyes, den Vertigo's comin' on t'me, and-"
"You must've been insane when you got with her," Polaris jibbed, knowing of Vertigo's constant attention.
"Gambit wasn' t'inkin' straight, dat for sure," he mused, then looked up at Lorna with a charming grin. "If he been t'inkin' straight, he'd a' got wit' y', chére."
The green haired lady laughed and got up. "You are such a flirt, LeBeau."
"Je sais. But it mos'ly works, neh?"
"Mos'ly," she repeated, mimicking his accent. She reached his door, then turned back. "By the way, Sinister's got another one of his 'projects' for you."
"Dat's just great," Remy muttered to the empty air. He was endlessly completing these tasks for his boss, and none seemed to turn out so well. He got the feeling that all of them were building toward something, but he had no idea what.
He made his way to Sinister's lab, waiting outside and playing a quick game of one-hand solitaire. Eventually his boss let him in.
"Gambit," greeted the scientist with all of a smile that ever graced his face. Red eyes blazed coldly from metallic skin. He had complete control over his body's molecules, allowing him a number of super-human abilities. "You are ready for another project." It was not a question.
Remy didn't dare contradict him. "Oui."
Sinister's lips curved again, this time the glint in his dead eyes betraying what kind of project this would turn out to be. "There is a young mutant girl who could benefit my cause greatly. Code name of Rogue. Do you recognize this name?"
Gambit thought a moment. "One a' de X-Men, non?"
"Yes. Her power to absorb others' powers could be extremely useful. Just think of all the experiments…"
Dis sound familiar somehow… Well, I guess more dan one mutan' can have de same power. Dere are more telepat's dan I could ever count.
"…I need you to sneak into Xavier's school and kidnap this young girl."
"Wait, wait… y'wan' Gambit t'kidnap a girl? Dat not what Gambit does…"
Sinister raised an eyebrow, amused at the Cajun's insolence while informing that he would not tolerate any more. "You are the only one who could get past their security, Gambit. Kidnapping is no different than theft really. It is merely stealing a person rather than an object."
"All right, Gambit will kidnap de girl. Y'wan' it done t'night?"
"Preferably. Her room is on the second floor, number 224."
The Cajun nodded once, and left to prepare for his mission. He donned body armor, clothes that allowed him to move about freely, a face mask that left only the slimmest slice of his face showing, and, of course, his trench coat. He faltered once, and swore, smelling a trace of Marie's perfume that had lingered along the collar.
Damn girl. Don' need her. I can find someone else t'night, someone I can touch…
He slipped silently out of the base in search of the mansion and a different mutant he could not touch contained within.
The mansion was easily located. It would have been tough for anyone but a master thief to get past the security systems, but Gambit had seen ones like them before. He faced the girl's window, red eyes cutting through the darkness easily, and vaulted himself up to the balcony in one elegant motion.
"P'tite," he called softly. "C'mere, p'tite, Gambit not gon' t'hurt y'." He stepped into the room smoothly and looked around. It didn't look like a young girl's room. But it had to be the correct one; Sinister's information had yet to be false. He approached the sleeping girl, curled on the bed under a thick cover.
He pulled the blanket back slowly, careful not to wake the girl. Dark brown hair. With a streak of pure white. The beautiful face, ever peaceful in sleep, was immediately recognizable.
"Mon Dieu," he whispered. "Marie, y'r…"
She stirred.
"Merde, I got t'get out a' here-"
"Remy?" she asked sleepily, smiling contentedly. Then she remembered, and her countenance soured. "Gambit. What the hell are ya doin' heah, Cajun?"
"Y'r Rogue?" he asked dumbly.
"Ah'm Rogue."
"Y'didn' tell Gambit y'were an X-Man, chére," he accused.
"Well, ya didn't exactly tell me that ya were a Marauder," she shot back.
"Gambit is not a Marauder! He jus' work for Sinister-"
"Same difference." She climbed out of bed from her sitting position, standing in front of him. She was all too aware that her white nightgown was both thin and short. "Why're ya heah, Gambit? Ah know ya didn't stop by just ta say hello."
He looked away, torn inside. He had Sinister's orders… but if something happened to Rogue… and he still wanted to be with her… perhaps there was a way to solve all three problems with one fell swoop. "Come wit' me, chére."
"Why would Ah go with you?"
"Look, somet'in' bad's gon' t'happen t'y'if y'don'-"
She snorted. "Right. Ah'm about ta believe that. Ah'm just gonna pick up and go off with ya. Ya're the enemy, Gambit. Ah'm s'posed ta fight ya, don't ya get it?"
"So fight Gambit. He don' care." He stepped away, allowing her to get in a good punch.
"Ah- Ah can't."
"Why not? Y'take off y'gloves, Gambit get his cards, it be fun."
"Ah don't want ta hurt ya," Rogue said quietly.
He pulled her to him gently. "So y'care 'bout ol' Gambit after all, neh?"
"No." She shook her head. "But… Ah care 'bout Remy LeBeau, and Ah know he's inside ya somewhere." Marie slowly slipped off a glove. "Ah know ya're gonna get in trouble if ya go back without me."
"Aw, don' worry 'bout Gam-"
"Shh," she cut him off, raising her finger to her lips. He noticed with a shock that it was bare. "Ah'm sorry, Gambit."
Rogue gently put her hand to his cheek. He froze, eyes and mouth wide open in shock as his very being drained from his body. His veins swelled, and he began to spasm uncontrollably. She released him, and he fell to the floor unconscious, but still convulsing.
The commotion brought a crowd to her door. Logan was the first there.
"Marie, are you okay?" he asked, deep blue eyes taking in the situation.
She turned on him, red eyes blazing. She picked up an empty glass and began to charge it. "De question, mon ami, is will y'be okay?" The Cajun accent was thick and felt wrong in her mouth.
Marie quickly drew the charge back in, realizing what she had been about to do. "Get outta mah head!" she cried in vain, clutching her forehead.
Ah didn't mean ta absorb him that much! If only Ah had some sorta control ovah mah powers. Ah only wanted ta help, and look where it gets me.
M'powers are completely out a' control. All dey do is hurt people, anymore. Dere's not'in' I can do 'bout it, eit'er. Mebbe I should take Dr. Essex up on dat offer a' his.
"Got t'find de docteur," she mumbled, taking Gambit's trench coat and leaping down from her balcony with all the grace of a practiced thief.