Bad Snapdragon! Very bad Snappy! (slams her ears in the oven door) How dare you is forgetting about the story—I have been busy. Very, very busy. I'm sorry to have left anyone who might still be waiting---is anyone still waiting, since I'm so stupid as to have let this go for so long? I promise I'll be a little more regular. (gee, where have you heard that before . . .) It would definitely help if you reread a little bit, because I kind of just picked up where I left off, after all . . .
Note. The Logan/Jean issue is never resolved. It will never BE resolved. If it was, a great deal of people will stop buying the comics because the suspense of sexual tension is gone. So there. (it is fun to write, though.)
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Storm steered Gambit to a small control room gleaming with metallic surfaces and buttons and knobs that just begged to be poked and twisted. She left as students began filing past the slightly ajar door, leaving Gambit alone with his temptation . . .He listened to snippets of the students' discussions as they flitted to his ears. One conversation especially intrigued him.
"—don't care, it's still not fair that Rogue and Bobby can go on a date, but they won't leave John and me alone for two minutes!"
"Yeah, but, ya know . . .Rogue's powers . . . it's not as if they could DO anything."
Almost before this puzzling statement drifted up the corridor, the door swung open to admit a distinguished-looking man in a wheelchair. He looked like just the kind of man Remy hated to talk to. Remy pulled out a deck of cards and started shuffling.
"Hello—my name is Charles Xavier . . . impressive, isn't it?" He said, gesturing to the cavernous metallic space through the window.
"Well, yes," Gambit replied slowly, nonplussed. "I'd have to say it's de largest room I ever did see . . ."
Xavier smiled and pushed a button—a big smooth one that slid down into its casing slowly. Cries of amazement came over the loud speaker as a dense forest sprang up around the group of students. The leaves burst into the yellow-orange of autumn foliage, dried up, fell off, and snow fell lightly, all in fast forward.
Gambit's poker face, however, was stuck tight. "Yessir . . . a very large room."
Xavier chuckled at his refusal to be impressed. "I had hoped the awe-inspiring view of our Danger Room in action would make the mansion a bit more inviting . . ."
Keep shuffling, wait for a commitment . . . "You are welcome to stay, of course, whatever you decide. Despite your current . . . notoriety . . . I am quite assured of your character. You are a good person. And I need good people badly."
This was an awful lot of buttering up. They obviously thought he wasn't keen on staying.
"That reminds me," Xavier continued. "I must thank you for saving Ororo. She was one of my first students, you know, after Scott and Jean."
"Why does she stay?" Gambit suddenly found himself blurting. Well, there goes the disinterested, aloof persona.
"You'd have to ask her to get the whole reason," Xavier said, ruminating for a moment, "but I know she believes in The Dream and it gives her satisfaction to work toward it, as it does all my X-men."
"The Dream." Always be wary of things that have capital letters like that.
"'Peaceful coexistence with the human race' is, I believe, how it's quoted in the school charter. Verbatim." Xavier smiled.
"Ah."
Face it. He didn't give a rat's ass for a dream, and he certainly wasn't the hero type. More the fringes-of-society-rebel who'd steal anything not nailed down. Then, he found himself gazing down into the danger room, where the students were engaged in a messy snowball fight. More specifically, he was gazing at Rogue. She had just dodged a sloppy slushball and launched one of her own, but just at that moment, a large icy chunk was hurled at the back of her head. A blonde-haired boy raced toward her and just before she was beamed, he raised them both on a pedestal of ice ten feet high. She clung to him, giggling. He looked mildly surprised and smug.
That was it.
"I wasn't plannin' on stayin' . . . But I believe my mind has changed. I might just give it a try—If I could just have a few days to gather my t'ings?" Gambit added, nonchalant.
"Splendid. And of course you may. Take as long as you need. Ah, Storm! I'd say it was a success, wouldn't you?"
Storm was smiling, and a new bounce was in her step as she entered. "Was there any doubt, Professor? They haven't been this excited about the prospect of physical training in months!"
Those two left, talking about practice schedules being drawn up, while Wolverine was left standing at the door, looking awkward. "Uh . . .anyway. I picked up yer bike from where ya left it . . . it's in the garage 'long with mine. Chuck wants me ta go with ya—if that's all right with you."
"No hard feelin's, eh, mon ami?" Gambit quipped, though secretly he'd rather go it alone.
Wolverine snorted. "If there were, they were more'n repaid when ya took that shot at Cyke—just wish I'd had the opportunity.'
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Again, I'm really sorry that I haven't been faithful to my wonderful, beautiful, puzzling fic. Heck, I don't even know where it's headed. It's a surprise to me as well as you when I get a flash of brilliance . . . .
Well, let's be honest—it's more than a flash.
Thanks for bein' so patient, y'all!