CHAPTER 9: CAST OUT
Gambit knew he was in trouble the moment he stepped through the portal and back
onto the mansion grounds. Instinctively ducking and rolling to the left, he
nonetheless lost his balance and hit the ground, hard, as a blast of solid ice
took him in the side. Ribs aching with the impact, he rolled again, struggling
to regain his feet and take stock of the situation.
He had barely made it to his knees when a thin beam of intense light hit him
square in the chest, knocking him backward into the grass, forcing the air from
his lungs and leaving him gasping for air. Flat on his back, he rested there
for a moment, feigning being stunned while charging the card that he slipped
from his coat sleeve. He knew the identities of the two who had ambushed them
from their powers alone, and he knew that they would never hit him while he was
down.
"So how was your trip down under, cajun?," came Bobby's voice from just beyond
his range of vision, and he could almost see the sneer on the younger boys
face. Gambit smirked, and continued to play dead. Let them think I'm beat, he
thought, they think they got the upper hand, they'll get sloppy. Just a little
closer, he thought, just a little closer ice-boy, and you're all mine.
Bobby's face appeared above him, sneering, just as Gambit had suspected.
"Consorting with the enemy, Gambit? They got a word for that, you know…it's
called treason. And you know the penalty for that, don't you?"
"Yep, dat I do," Gambit shot back smoothly, even as he hooked his foot around
Bobby's ankle and tripped him to the ground, simultaneously leaping up and
letting the card fly from his grasp. Quickly, he dodged to the side, avoiding
the resulting explosion which hit Bobby full in the face, knocking him
unconscious. "But you see, I have dis strong aversion to bein' dead.." Yeah,
snappy banter, Gambit, he thought, head turning quickly from side to side and
looking for a way out. That's only half the threat you facin'. Where was Da--?
Her light blast slammed into him so hard that he thought he was dead for
sure…almost wished he was, his body hurt so bad. He groaned as he attempted to
rise again, not feigning being stunned this time when his muscles refused to
obey. His eyes rolled within their sockets, and he blinked them rapidly, trying
to refocus enough to see what was going on around him. With an excruciatingly
painful effort, he turned his head to the side, every muscle creaking in
protest. Dazzler was busy tending to Bobby, probably worried that he had
blasted the boys head right off. He had hit him hard, and the kid was probably
still unconscious, but he would recover from it soon enough. Gambit planned to
be long gone when he did. But how?
Forcing his bruised muscles to move, he craned his head up, to the West from
where he'd come, and was rewarded by the sight of Gateways portal, still held
open, as if in invitation. Gateway, my friend, he thought, if you listenin', I
could sure use a rescue here.
The portal remained where it was…even worse, Dazzler had discovered Bobby was
still breathing and was about to return her attention to him. They had gotten
the drop on him alright, either that or he was losing a few steps. Probably a
bit of both, he decided, biting down hard on the inside of his mouth to keep
from crying out as he writhed through the grass toward the portal. Just a few
feet more, he thought, almost there.
He heard a movement behind him and instinctively rolled to the left. This time
his reflexes paid off, even though his muscles screamed in pain, and the light
blast seared the ground right next to his face. He blinked hard as the smoke
caused his eyes to tear up, and tried not to think about what would have
happened if he hadn't moved in time. Almost desperate now, he shoved himself
forward, fingers just touching the crackling energy around the edge of the
portal. It was enough. The sound of running footsteps faded behind him as the
portal drew him in and snapped shut around him. An instant later, he lay
facedown in the hot sand of the Australian desert.
* * * * * * * * * *
Rogue eased back onto her bed, curling up tight within the luxurious satin
sheets. She had missed practice this morning, for the first time in the past
five months she had spent in the Brotherhood. She expected a knock on her door
at any moment, either Nightcrawler or Creed coming to see what was wrong, but
suprisingly, so far, she had been left completely alone. She had left Summers
in charge of the group in her absence, knowing how much he relished the mantle
of leadership, almost to the point of hating Rogue for taking the position he
thought was rightfully his. Sometimes, she thought it was only the thought of
his fate at the masters hands if he harmed her, that held him in check. Boy, if
Summers could see me now, she thought, and chuckled wryly.
She ran a hand through her unkempt hair, and heaved a shuddering sigh. She
couldn't understand what was wrong with her. Ever since her mutant powers had
developed, she'd never been a sick a day in her life, not even a sniffle or a
cough. And yet, here she was today, curled up on her bed like a baby, focusing
all of her attention on keeping her breakfast at bay. It couldn't have been the
meal, she thought idly. She'd been eating grits and toast for breakfast for
most of her adult life. So what did that leave?
She rolled onto her side and drew the blankets up close around her. There was
one other alternative, one she didn't even want to consider. The very thought
made her soul shrink in terror. But if that's what it was…well, everyone would
know soon enough, wouldn't they? Maybe she should just bite the bullet and
schedule an appointment with Black Beast to run a test for the Legacy Virus. At
least then she would know for sure. But in her heart, she was already convinced
that was what it was. After all, what else could break down her formidable
immune system after all these years?
Laying a hand on her stomach to calm it, she bit down on her lower lip and
concentrated against the nausea that threatened to overwhelm her. It worked…for
about 2 minutes. Lying weakly before the toilet, arms resting on the smooth
porcelain, she finally gave in to the tears behind her eyes.
* * * * * * * * * * *
"You did WHAT?!," Storm thundered, absolutely livid as she stared at the two
faces before her. Lightning seemed to leap from her very eyes as her stare bore
into them, and it took every bit of control she had to keep from lashing out
with her power.
"Ororo…what…?," Bobby stared back, utterly confused. He cast a sidelong glance
at Alison, wondering if she had any clue as to what was going on. But from the
look on her face, she was just as shocked as he.
Storm continued speaking, very slowly, as if she were trying to contain her
emotion by not letting her words come out too quickly. "You mean to tell
me…that you nearly killed Gambit and then drove him back through the portal?"
"Um..," Bobby looked to Dazzler again, as if for support, but she kept her eyes
downcast. "Well…yeah…," he finished weakly, taking a step away from Ororo in
case her anger should explode.
Ororo would have throttled him in that very moment if not for her years of
training in control of herself. Instead, she spun, turning her back to him as
if the lack of his image would help calm her anger. "Do you realize what you
have done?," she asked, her tone deathly quiet.
"Um…apparently not. I mean I THOUGHT we were saving the teams collective butt…"
She closed her eyes, bowing her head in sadness as she spoke, "You've sentenced
one of our teammates to certain death."
"But Storm! He would have turned us in to them! And if it's gonna be him or us,
I'd rather it be him."
"You have no idea what is going on here, Robert," she said, shaking her head.
"But then, perhaps that is my fault. Were I in your place, I might have done
the same. But then, I am the leader of this team, and report to no superior.
You should have consulted me first, Robert."
He stood, open mouthed and silent, completely taken aback by her attitude.
"He was working for us, Robert," Storm continued more gently. "When Psylocke
contacted him, it was not as if he had a choice but to go there. It was either
that or death. I decided that we could turn it to our advantage by having him
report back to us everything he could about our enemies. I did not tell anyone,
except for Logan, because I did not want to alarm you any more than you already
were."
He fumbled for words, hardly believing what he was hearing. "B—but…how do you
know he was working for us, really? He could just as easily have been telling
them about US."
"Trust, Robert," she said, moving to the window and staring out at the coming
dawn. "I had to trust him. More than that, I wanted to trust him. We have so
little we can depend on now…if not each other, then what?"
The question was rhetorical, and for once, he didn't feel the need to make a
flip comment. "But what about Psylocke?" he asked instead. "She could rip his
thoughts from his mind in an instant and find out everything she needed to know
about us."
Storm nodded and leaned against the window pane, considering. "I thought about
that, too. But I decided that it was worth the risk, to learn as much as we
could. If that had been her objective, she simply would have done it to begin
with." She paused momentarily, seeming to collect her thoughts. "No, I suspect
Psylocke had another agenda. Though what, I could hardly guess, besides that it
will not bode well for anyone."
Dazzler shifted her weight from one foot to the other, maintaining her silence
though it was clear that she was extremely uncomfortable by now. Bobby looked
back to Storm, suddenly feeling very guilty for his actions. "You should have
told us, Ororo. We would have found a way to deal with it."
Again, she nodded. "I see that now. But it is far too late to change things. I
can only pray to the Bright Lady that she helps him with what he is about to
face."
Bobby's brow furrowed, and he regarded her intently, trying to gauge the
meaning of her words. "What do you mean?," he finally asked.
"Because now that he no longer serves a purpose as a pipeline of supposed
information about us…," she shuddered, not wanting to think about it. "Bright
Lady preserve him, when Psylocke finds out."
* * * * * * * * * * *
"Hey Wagner," Summers called across the room as he toweled himself off. "What's
with your sister lately, anyway?"
Nightcrawler hung suspended upside-down from the ceiling by his tail, smiling
innocently as he met Summers penetrating look. "Vas?," he asked, wide eyed.
Summers sighed in exasperation and took a few more steps toward Nightcrawler,
letting the towel drop to the floor, forgotten. "I said, what's the matter with
Rogue?"
Nightcrawler returned his simmering gaze for a long, silent moment, then
finally dropped to the floor, smile broadening into a grin. "There's nothing
wrong with Roguey Rogue. She's doing just fine…for a woman in her condition,"
he added, his voice dropping slightly, as if he conferred some great secret.
"Condition?" Summers blinked in confusion, obviously not understanding the
meaning behind Kurt's reference.
Kurt sighed and shook his head in mock sorrow. "Just like your brother was…so
focused on duty that you hardly stop to notice what's going on around you."
Now Summers eyes did flare, gaze narrowing dangerously upon his teammate. His
expression grim, his words were clipped as he replied, "Do not ever mention my
brother again if you value your life, Wagner."
Kurt shrugged easily and let the remark slide off. "Whatever you say, Herr
Summers. Besides, it's bound to hit you in the face sooner or later, given
another couple of months."
He cut him a sharp look, folding his arms over his chest and shifting his
stance backward a bit. "Is she…sick?"
"Ja," Kurt nodded, smiling.
"Then…why are you so happy about it?," Summers asked suspiciously.
Kurt raised his brows, looking genuinely suprised. "Why am I so happy?" He
began to chuckle mirthfully, highly amused by Summers inability to see what was
right before his face. Laughing aloud, he slung an arm around the younger mans
shoulders companionably. "Because, my dear boy….I'm going to be an uncle!"
Kurt would have paid money for a picture of the expression on Summers' face at
that moment.
