Part 2
He stared out the window, a strong feeling of foreboding weighing him down as the cab pulled up to the extravagant mansion. He tried to tell himself that he shouldn't care what these people thought of him, but he couldn't. For some strange reason it mattered. The car stopped and Remy LeBeau had to force himself to pay the driver and get out. Instinctively, he knew that he should get as far away from this place as he could. He should run and run and never stop until the mansion was barely a dot on the horizon. Too bad he wasn't at liberty to listen to that tempting little voice in his head. There were people who needed him, and there were issues that needed to be resolved, no matter how intimidating.
The mansion where the X-Men based their operations was a rather breathtaking sight. Room upon room stretched out into a mammoth sized structure that spoke of riches, wealth and greatness. Hardly the location anyone would suspect of being the X-Men's headquarters, especially under the guise of a university for the "gifted."
Glancing down at his Rolex, Remy saw that the time was just a little past noon. Considering that he'd had to stop on the way here to rent a safe for the gem he'd stolen the night before, he'd made pretty good time. Maybe his luck would hold out and most of the X-Men would be out for lunch in Salem Center. Stiffly, he wandered up the front stairs and watched the doorbell warily as he reached out to push it, as if it would bite him the moment he put his guard down. His small travel bag slipped in his sweaty hands and he had to change his grip on it to keep the luggage from falling. Distantly there was the ringing of the bell followed by the gentle thumping of footfalls upon wood. Remy waited tensely as the person on the other side of the door paused to open it. Finally the heavy wood swung back on its hinges to reveal... a complete stranger.
The woman who stood framed in the doorway was of Spanish heritage. Her skin was tanned darkly and her hair hung behind her head in thick braids gathered back at the nape of her neck. Cold, brown eyes stared at him, the expression on her face clearly indicating that she was annoyed at having been bothered. "Can I help you?" she asked, her tone bored and even slightly sarcastic.
"Sure can, chere." Remy smiled at her, mentally switching into urbane mode in an attempt to hide his discomfort with being here. She looked at him expectantly, waiting for more information.
"I'm here t' see a friend o' mine. Goes by de name o' Stormy."
A flash of recognition crossed over her countenance. "You must be Remy. Storm told me to expect you," she said simply.
"Dat be me. An' y', my bea'tiful petite are...?"
"Dr. Cecilia Reyes," she supplied flatly. No welcome in the tone, no warmth. Just business.
As she stepped aside to allow him to enter, Remy couldn't help but mutter, "Doctor, hmm? Sure hope your bedside manner's better den y' welcoming policies." That earned him an icy stare as he walked passed her and entered the room. He glanced about expecting to see the place exactly as he'd left it, and then froze in shock as he saw the complete opposite.
The giant room was empty. Utterly and completely... empty. "What de...?" he trailed off as he sputtered somewhat speechlessly at the unexpected sight. Cecilia was smiling smugly at the break in his bravado. "What happened here?" he finally managed, swallowing his pride in awe.
"Operation: Zero Tolerance happened." Her face hardened considerably at the mention of the words and he didn't miss the undercurrent of anger in her voice as she continued. "Government program led by a madman named Bastion. He raided the mansion and stripped it dry." She shrugged, though the expression held no sense of indifference.
"Sounds like y' ain't particularly fond o' de guy."
Her gaze darted to him. "Well, aren't you perceptive." Brown eyes narrowed bitterly. "He took my life away. I'd say that gives me the right to hate him."
"Yeah, I'd say it does," Remy replied quietly. Ouch. He'd sure struck a nerve, and he'd struck it awfully hard. Even when he wasn't trying, he had the ability to get under people's skin. That was fine for people like Cyclops, who needed someone to loosen them up and teach them not to take everything so seriously, but he didn't even know this girl. He had enough enemies without making new ones. But still, he had to wonder exactly what Bastion had done to her.
"Storm's waiting for you upstairs. I'll take you to her room," Cecilia said breaking into his thoughts.
"T'anks, but I'll find it m'self. I 'member de way." She shrugged nonchalantly and left him to follow through on his words.
§ ¨ © ª
The corridor of the women's wing was completely deserted. He wondered distantly where everyone was as he passed door after door and neither heard nor saw any sign of life.
Suddenly he stopped. This had been Rogue's room. Feeling as if he were glued to the spot where he stood, he reached up and touched the cool, dark wood of the door. His heart melted within his chest. "Aaaw Roguie... how is it dat y' managed t' mean s' much t' me? Never t'ought I would love 'gain after Beladonna... Den I met y' an' realized dat Bela wasn' even true love..." He had his head resting against the door now and his eyes closed as he let memories wash over him. Then he straightened abruptly. "But y' made y' choice, non? Now I gotta learn t' live wit' it." He paused for a second, his mood shifting slightly. "If y' couldn't see dat I've changed and dat I love ya... den maybe it just your loss." He turned, fingers trailing across the wood as he walked on down the hall to Storm's room.
One knock was all it took to bring Ororo to the door. Sweeping it open swiftly, the tall, dark woman immediately gathered him into a hug. A smile lit his face. "Hey Stormy," he greeted, though his words came out muffled through her hair. "Nice t' see y' too."
"I told you," she said as she backed away, grinning, "do not call me that."
"Hey, I t'ink I'm entitled. Been a while, non?"
"Yes. Too long."
Silence. He watched as she gave him the once over, trying to guard the worried expression that sought to make itself known on its features. She had obviously noticed his gauntness. "How about you my friend?" A hint of concern flickered in her eyes.
"Don' worry 'bout me. I fine. Take more dan subzero temperatures to stop dis Cajun, non?"
She winced at the reference and he instantly regretted the comment. Go 'head Remy, would you like ketchup wit' dat foot in your mouth?
"So, um, where's the rest o' de team?" he asked hurriedly, changing the subject. "Far's I c'n see, dis place's almost deserted. 'Cept f'r de new girl I met downstairs o' course."
"I gave the X-Men the afternoon off and ...encouraged them to leave for a while. They were told to be back by dinner. Only Sara and Cecilia decided to stay."
"Sara? Anot'er new member?"
Storm gave him a strange look. "We have much to discuss Remy. I told the X-Men to leave so that we would have time to do so." With a graceful step to the side she gestured into her room. "Come inside and make yourself comfortable. This might take a while."
§ ¨ © ª
"She's been dere how long!?" Remy asked, pausing momentarily in his pacing to glance over at Storm where she sat in an elegant, white, wicker chair.
"Hank found her mutant signature early this morning, but we have no way of knowing how long she was there before Cerebro detected her."
"An' y' sure it Sinister's place?"
"We can't be certain. Cerebro isn't really functioning at full capacity yet. That is beside the fact that Cerebro shouldn't even be able to detect Sinister in the first place."
"Not functioning at full capacity?" They'd already discussed how Hank had somehow managed to catch Sinister's signal earlier that morning while working on Cerebro, despite the fact that that should be impossible. There was only one explanation that satisfied Remy. It was a trap. They knew that, but what could they do? Rogue could be hurt.
"Yes. It was stolen with the rest of the technology here at the mansion. The X-Men only recently managed to retrieve it from a government warehouse and it hasn't been fully tested and rebooted yet."
"Oh. So it could be a mistake, right? De results aren' exact." He raised his eyebrows hopefully.
"Yes. We cannot be certain until we take a closer look in person. In addition, since we know that Cerebro cannot really detect Sinister, we have no way of determining if he is really involved. It could be someone else pretending to be him, sending out a false signal." she noted.
Remy nodded once and resumed his pacing. He didn't really believe Storm's idea about a 'Sinister impersonator'. He just had a feeling that the crazy geneticist was really the one involved in this. A stream of curses in French rolled through his mind. This was bad. His deal with Essex had destroyed everything that he had ever loved and cared for. Well almost everything. He glanced briefly at Stormy. Sinister had effectively decimated the majority of his life. He'd be damned if he was going to let that madman take Rogue too. It didn't matter if she hated him. It didn't even matter if he hated her back. What mattered was that Sinister had her and he refused to allow anyone to be tortured by that man. Least of all someone he had once cared about so much. Besides, maybe she didn't hate him. She had gone to Antarctica a couple of times after the Trial, or so Wolverine's nose said, and she sure wasn't there to sight see. It was a slim thread of hope, but it was something. Enough to wrap around his heart and hold it together.
"Remy. Please stop pacing. You are making me dizzy."
He paused and turned to face her, forcing himself to shake off his thoughts and come back to the real world. "Sorry Stormy. Just a little on edge." 'On edge' was an understatement. 'On edge' was when you were in the middle of a particularly dangerous pinch and your cover could be blown at any moment. He was way past that point. He was over the edge and now falling off the cliff.
Remy's heart felt like it would beat out of his chest and the blood tickled feverishly in his veins. That was to say nothing of the muscles that were so tightly twined he thought they would snap. Mention the name 'Sinister' and this was his typical reaction. Actually, come to think of it, 'Rogue' could also arouse such an effect. The two combined was not a good thing.
And then there was Sara, whom he had recently found out was also a Morlock. The same Morlock he had saved when he'd been thrust into the middle of the Massacre with no way out years ago.
Storm eyed him for a moment and then glanced at a clock on the wall. "I believe it is time to go. I have arranged a meeting at 5:00pm with the X-Men. We should be right on time."
Remy suddenly felt immeasurably worse but nodded and followed Storm out the door. She dropped back when he emerged from her room to walk side by side with him. Gentle fingers intertwined with his sweaty hand and he looked over at Ororo only to find her gazing intently at him. "It will be fine," she said with such force that he was almost inclined to believe her. "If anybody can handle this, you can, Remy." He wasn't exactly sure what she meant by that but it was comforting nonetheless.
They descended the stairs. Somehow, he would make it through this.
§ ¨ © ª
Storm led the way into the war room as Remy mentally composed himself. A mask fell over his features and he reflexively reinforced his mental shields, both to keep telepaths out and to stop the flow of emotions his empathic abilities would normally allow in. Ahead of him, Storm entered the room. He could hear Archangel calling out teasingly to her as she rounded the corner. "There you are, Storm. We were beginning to think you stood us u—" he broke off abruptly as he noticed Remy. The sentence hung awkwardly in the air as all eyes focused on the man standing casually in the doorway, his stance giving away nothing of his nervousness. And then it was like a spell broke as a half dozen voices tried to speak at once.
"Gambit?"
"What are you doing here?!"
"I thought you were still in New Orleans! Isn't that where Storm said you were...?
A few eyes narrowed angrily at him, a few were opened wide in shock, but everyone had one emotion written clearly on their faces. Surprise. They hadn't known he was coming. He gave Storm a questioning, sideways glance but she wasn't looking at him. She must have had her reasons for not telling the X-Men to expect him. He returned his gaze to the assembled crowd, sweeping over them. Besides Storm and himself there was Archangel, Iceman, the Beast, Psylocke, Cecilia Reyes, somebody he didn't recognize but figured was Maggott from Storm's description earlier, Wolverine, and... and...
A voice managed to find its way through the droning mumble of comments. It was cold, and gravely, and full of bitterness. "So, I see ya found the Gene Traitor, huh Windrider?" It was hardly a quiet snarl, but the vehemence it carried allowed it to be heard clearly over the now dying exclamations of shock.
Gambit felt as if the blood was freezing in his veins and almost shivered as he turned to look at the speaker and realized who it was. Bones. Bones everywhere, sticking out at odd, disjointed angles. And hate. It was written on every angle of her face, present in every movement she made. And he could feel it even through his strong mental shields. It was pungent, and sharp, and dirty, and choking. He tried to push it out of his mind, tried to force his empathic abilities to ignore it, but he couldn't. It was just so strong.
The girl stood staring at him contemptuously, each hand gripping a bone dagger tightly. Dropping lower, she assumed a fighting stance, eyes watching him warily, like those of a predator waiting to pounce on its prey.
He recognized her immediately.
"Sara?" he breathed stupidly. It was all his brain could manage through the thick fog of emotions she conjured within it.
"My name," she snarled coldly, "is Marrow."
"I'm so sorry...," he said, visions of the Morlock Massacre churning through his mind. Visions of innocent people being slaughtered. Even women. Even children. "I didn' mean t'... I didn' know..."
"Sorry won't bring back the Morlocks that you killed!" she shrieked. "But they will have their revenge through me, Murderer. Don't worry. I promise ta make yer death slow and painful..." Her hand tightened around the long bone she held and in a flash of movement she reached back to throw it. Remy dodged, diving to the floor and expecting the dagger to fly by above him. But it never did. Surprised, he looked up to see Wolverine sitting on top of her, pinning her to the floor and aiming three, long, jagged claws menacingly at her bare throat.
"Lay off of Gumbo, ya hear?" he growled in a deep guttural tone. It was obvious he and Sara weren't exactly the best of pals.
"You would defend the Gene Traitor?" she asked, a look of shock and disgust warping her features. Her eyes narrowed angrily. "Then you are a traitor as well," she threatened quietly. Wolverine tensed visibly, muscles tightening and claws moving just a bit closer to the exposed jugular.
"You watch yer tongue girl, or ya might lose it." She simply laughed, a bitter cackle, in reply.
"Yeah? You can't protect the traitor all the time old man. I will have my vengeance." She turned to stare at Gambit who now stood ready with three cards in hand. Her intense gaze bore into him and she spoke very slowly and deliberately, letting the hate drip off of each syllable. "Be afraid Gene Traitor. Be very afraid. The moment ya let yer guard down... I'll be there." A wicked smile split her lips then and she turned back to face Wolverine, dropping the bones she held and raising her hands in a gesture of surrender. Wolverine didn't move. He stared at her as if he were waiting for an excuse to bring his claws across the few centimeters that separated them from her throat.
"Logan!" Storm ordered. "Release her."
Slowly, predatorily, Wolverine got up and backed away. Within seconds Sara was on her feet and stalking out of the room. An insidious smile crossed her lips as she passed by Gambit, pausing only long enough to growl out a threat. "Remember Murderer, I'll be watching ya." He almost shivered. This was the same girl he had rescued years ago, and if it came down to a fight between them... he just wasn't sure he could hurt her. He'd caused her so much pain already.
Gradually the gazes in the room turned to rest heavily on Remy again, with Marrow no longer present to occupy their attention. The tension in the air was so thick he felt like it would swallow him up if he didn't do something. He was just about to speak to break the silence when Storm cut in and took the initiative. "I think it is time we began," she said loudly, pulling the attention of the room's occupants to herself. "As you all know, our enemy, Sinister, is suspected of holding Rogue captive. At 8:30 this morning, Cerebro detected her mutant signature in the immediate vicinity of Sinister. Since normally we are unable to detect Sinister, we are unable to be sure if it is really him. According to Henry, he was simply adjusting some of the settings on Cerebro when it picked up their signatures. I am planning a rescue mission, which I think it would be wisest to keep covert. Because of this we will not be leaving until nightfall and we will try our best to enter Sinister's base, that is if it is really Sinister, unnoticed. Which brings us to Gambit. His experience with infiltrating high security buildings and his knowledge of Sinister make him a valuable asset to this mission, which is why I invited him—"
"You expect us to go on a mission with this traitor? How can you trust him after what he did to us? ...After what he did to me?" Archangel interrupted angrily.
"Remy has proven himself to us on numerous occasions as an X-Man," Storm replied harshly. There was a slight pause and when she spoke again her voice was softer, sadder, holding a hint of resignation. "But I understand your concern even if I do not agree with it. That is why I am only taking a very limited number of people on this mission, of which you are not one. It we are going to do this quietly, a big group will only endanger us."
"Then who, may I ask, are the members of this highly exclusive team?" That from the Beast who, up until now, had been uncharacteristically quiet.
"Wolverine, Gambit, and myself."
Throughout the whole procession, Bobby Drake had been standing silently in the corner brooding. That was about to change. "Are you all crazy?" he yelled in exasperation, "Hasn't he," Bobby looked pointedly at Gambit, "caused Rogue enough pain already? And you're calling him back to do more?"
The reaction in Gambit was immediate, his eyes narrowed, their red color brightening to glow eerily. His stance became threatening without him even noticing and the hand that didn't hold the three cards was balled tightly into a fist. "Are you insinuatin' dat I would hurt Rogue?" he rasped quietly.
Bobby seemed to hesitate for just a second before he answered. "That's exactly what I'm insinuating!" The room was silent as the two men stared at each other. It really wasn't like Bobby to be so bold.
"Y' wanna take dis outside, Drake?"
"Enough!" yelled Storm. A burst of tremendous thunder cracked to emphasize her command. Both turned to face her. "This is not open to debate. Henri, how long until the proper modifications are made to the portable Cerebro unit?"
"An hour possibly?"
"Good. We leave then."
Gambit had turned back to eye Iceman warily, eyes still glowing as they bore into the younger man. The three cards glowed slightly in his hand, the minute charge he pumped into them being an unconscious reaction.
"Remy!" He looked over at Storm. The unspoken words were evident on her expression. Back down and avoid trouble. Now.
"Fine!" he barked out, and whirled to stomp out of the room, that is if it could be called 'stomping.' His steps made no noise against the metal floors. Behind him Bobby muttered, "Yeah, you better run," and Remy nearly turned around. But he forced himself to keep walking. A fight would only make things worse.
§ ¨ © ª
The sun was low in the sky and there was a slight breeze that accompanied the dropping temperature of dawn. There was still a lot of light out and he had to squint his extra sensitive eyes slightly, but he didn't mind. Sighing heavily, Remy looked out over the expansive grounds of the Xavier Institute. From his vantage point on the mansion's roof it looked rather impressive. Changing positions slightly, he drew his knees up to his chest, resting his chin on the arms that were crossed over them.
When he'd been a member of the X-Men, he'd often spent similar moments in this exact same place. Then it had been quiet moments of shame for the horrific secret he hid from those he loved. And now? Now the secret was out—or at least most of it was. Now he wondered if he'd ever really belonged with the X-Men. He had hurt too many people to be a hero. Of course there were other X-Men who'd had shady pasts, but they had reformed. He hadn't. He had regretted ever having been a part of the Mutant Massacre of course, he'd learned to hate the selfishness he used to have and even grow out of it a bit, he'd found the joy in helping others, the utter satisfaction of it. But he would always be the rebel, always the thief, always the outcast in a world of heroes. In a way he regretted that, but he was what he was. He couldn't change it, just learn to live with it and be happy. The Massacre was over. There was nothing he could do about it now. He had put it behind him, learned and changed from it. Why couldn't the people in the mansion below him do the same?
He didn't want forgiveness. He didn't want people to forget what he had done. He just wanted them to move on despite it and stop concentrating on the past.
Was that so much to ask?
Apparently it was.
Another deep sigh. He'd known coming to the mansion would be hard, but this was even worse than he'd imagined. He hadn't known on the drive up to the mansion that Sara would be here. If he had, maybe he wouldn't have come. Maybe he would have just went after Rogue on his own.
The sun was setting rapidly now, streaking the sky with brilliant shades of pink and orange and yellow. Violently bright colors of emotions so strong that they were nearly overwhelming... He was an empath. It was a curse and a blessing. Today it had been a curse. He'd felt so much hate downstairs. Granted, it was mostly from a few choice people, particularly Bobby, Warren, and Sara... but it had been strong enough that he felt as if his psyche had been burned. And now he was playing with the scar. Some of the team hadn't been around during the Massacre—Joseph, Cecilia, Maggott, Psylocke. Most of them couldn't hate him because they either didn't know him or they didn't understand the magnitude of death and pain that there had been. He'd sensed mostly confusion and indifference from them. The Beast seemed... unsure of what he felt, like he was angry at Remy but couldn't quite bring himself to hate him. Logan wasn't happy but he didn't have vehemence for Remy either. Maybe he had experienced enough to know what it was like to accidentally cause so much death?
And that left one person unaccounted for. Storm.
He wondered at that. She had been the Morlock's leader. He'd earned her hatred for playing a part in slaying her people. She had been one of his closest friends but he had never told her of his involvement in the Massacre. Yet she bore no malevolent feelings toward him. At least none that he could sense. Why?
Remy felt someone land lightly on the roof behind him with his kinetisthetic sense. The sense was an extension of his normal powers, creating a low-level field of energy around him that allowed him to sense and track the objects around him.
He didn't turn.
"Remy," came the voice, light and free as the wind. "It is time."
He nodded, but still didn't move. "C'n I ask y' somet'ing 'Roro?
"Of course."
"Why don' y' hate me f'r de... de whole Massacre t'ing?"
"I did hate you." He turned suddenly only to find her staring at him, a gentle smile quirking her full lips. "But then I came to my senses." He raised a questioning eyebrow and she proceeded to explain. "My initial reaction was anger and a sense of betrayal." Turning again, he put his back to her, suddenly very uncomfortable. "But then the reality of the situation struck me and I realized that you might be dead. My heart shattered at that thought and I understood that I could not hate you. I treasured you as a friend too much and more than that... I trusted you. After realizing this, the only remnant of the earlier negative feeling I bore against you was shame for having felt that way at all." A slender hand slid onto his shoulder, comforting him with a gentle squeeze and warming up the chill in his bones temporarily. "You are too hard on yourself Remy LeBeau. Given time the X-Men will accept you as one their own again."
He tilted his head and squinted up to look into Storm's chocolate colored face. "Y' t'ink so?" he questioned.
"Yes. I do."
There was a momentary pause as he thought about this. "It not really dem I'm worried 'bout." She seemed to catch his meaning.
"I'm sorry about Rogue, Remy, but if she has not realized her error than she is a fool." He turned sharply to look at her.
"You are not an evil man," she continued. "If you were, I would have died a young girl in the Shadow King's grasp."
There was another pause. "T'anks Stormy," he finally said.
"Of course," she answered. "And Remy?"
"Yeah?"
"Do not call me that."
He smiled and stood, reaching up to the hand on his shoulder and grasping it in his own. Together they left the roof to the falling darkness.