Author's note: I was cleaning out my hard drive and unearthed some old X-Men stories. They are now hopelessly out of sync with canon--please bear in mind that chronologically, these were written shortly after Ilyana's death from Legacy. Yup, that long ago. That makes the parts relating to Gambit's past especially alternate reality; story also assumes that Lillandra is dead/lost. That said, hope you enjoy & thanks for reading.
Disclaimer: All rights to XM belong to Marvel and a number of other corporations. No harm intended, no profit made.
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The Hidden
by kazoo
Chapter 1
Charles Xavier wearily removed the Cerebro helmet from his head and closed his eyes. Jubilee would say that he'd been spending too much time hooked into that metal basket and zip away on her blades. He smiled as he thought of her, seeking and finding her sleeping mind. Automatically he continued the sweep, expecting to find everyone asleep since there were no emergencies to take care of. The situation was rare enough that all who could took advantage of it. He was surprised then to find at least one mind awake and restless. That mind was as unmistakable as its owner was mysterious. One of the newest members of his team of X-Men, Gambit.
He could not discern very much; Gambit's mind had naturally strong shields but he could tell that something troubled that young man. Wondering if he should intrude yet aware that he was in part responsible for all these young people, Charles made his way to the second floor balcony, where he knew Gambit would be.
"Nice night," Gambit said without turning around.
"More for me than for you, I think," Charles said as he paused by the door. This close, the coiled tension in Gambit's body was hard to miss. "Is there something wrong?"
Gambit didn't answer at first, flicking his cigarette away and watching as it arced down, a tiny point of light swallowed by the darkness. "Yes."
He was surprised by such a direct answer, but recovered quickly, "What?"
"Something, coming, hunting... slithering around in the shadows... Can't quite see it," Gambit replied in a low voice, still with his back to Charles, fists clenched as he stared into the night.
He was about to soothe the young man, paused, becoming aware that Gambit was admitting to more than mere instinct. "What can you see?"
"Images, threads, knots... and nooses."
"You're a precog?" He couldn't keep the shock from his voice.
Gambit turned then, almost smiled, "It's somethin' I can do sometimes, see the thread of t'ings that are gonna to happen. Not reliable enough to count as a 'talent' though. 've done my best to forget about it, but," he shrugged, "sometimes the feelings, they're too strong. Can't ignore 'em."
"You should have mentioned it before."
"Saw no reason to."
"It's something you should work on, so it can become more reliable--"
"No." The answer was final.
"But Gambit, we haven't had a genuine precog since Destiny--"
"Oui, I know about Madame Destiny. That one, she knew the date of her death, m'sieur. Can do without that bit o' knowledge. T'know day to day the actions of others.... what good's the game then?"
"But--" He cut off his own protest, seeing that the young man was determined and something else besides. More than most of his X-Men, Gambit walked on the edge of death. It was a path he had chosen, one Charles had hoped he would draw away from, and he had been, with his interest in Rogue. But he was much closer to the line than Charles had realized and anything that jeopardized the "goodness" of the game could send him over the edge.
Gambit shook his head, "I am not suicidal, m'sieur. There is no grande amour between me and La Dame Morte."
"So you claim," he said, then stopped. "You're a telepath as well."
"Sometimes. Comes 'n goes more often than the sight."
"No reason to mention it?"
The young man smiled slightly, "'til now."
Charles nodded, aware that these revelations tonight had been Gambit's choice. "Why?"
"Because it's not only me, pr'fessor. Dis thing that'll happen, involves others, involves Stormy."
"Ororo? She's in danger?"
He shrugged, "I'm not sure, but I can't take the chance, comprends?"
"Yes... You and she were partners for some time before you came to the X-Men, weren't you?"
"Almost a year," Gambit confirmed.
"Could this have something to do with the time you spent together?"
"I don't see how. The most dangerous foes we faced are dead, M'sieur le Shadow King and that Nanny and her petit Pierre, Orphanmaker."
"The Shadow King is never truly dead," Charles said absently, though he did not count it as a strong possibility. The Shadow King's powers would not be strong enough yet to return to this world. "It's not a human threat, then."
"'s it ever?"
"More often than you might think," Charles replied dryly, "But in this case, perhaps not." He looked up at him, held his eyes, "I expect you to come to me the moment there is anything else." The young man nodded just once, but Charles was sure he would.
"Actually, there is one more thing."
"You're a teleporter as well?" Charles said with a smile.
"Non," he said, grinning. "A request. Don' tell the others what we discussed t'night. No need for them to know."
"Ororo surely..."
"Oui, her yes. I'll speak to her and I have no doubt she'll come to you as well. But no others, s'il vous plait."
"Why?"
He shrugged, "These are not 'talents' I want… publicized."
"I am not in the habit of keeping secrets from my students."
"Non?"
"Not as a rule," Charles said with a slight acknowledgment of the hit.
"Then as a favor."
Charles weighed it a moment, "This doesn't mean I'm going to give up having you develop these talents, you know."
Gambit smiled again, "I expect nothin' less."
"And we'll be talking again, soon."
Gambit nodded, more sober now. "I know."
"You're still not going to sleep?"
He shook his head, "Can't yet. Too much coiled inside." He grinned again, "You took a long time with m'sieur Cerebro."
"You were waiting? You should have come down--"
"It's a nice night."
"Next time, interrupt and we'll both enjoy it."
He nodded, still grinning a bit. "Nex' time."
"And try to get some sleep."
"Oui, pappa."
Charles shook his head, but smiled. "Good night."
"Bon nuit."
Charles had just turned to go when he heard a slight rush of air, whirled in time to see the tail of Gambit's trenchcoat wafting down over the side of the balcony. He went to the railing and caught the last of two summersaults just before Gambit landed with perfect balance and grace on the lawn below. He glanced up at the professor, flashed him a slight salute, and raced off, heading for the woods at the back of the estate. Their edges were cultivated, but it was still wild enough to serve as a great obstacle course for his X-Men. And they would be the perfect place to release some tension.
Charles watched him thoughtfully, even wistfully, until he was lost in the shadows.
****
An hour or so later, Gambit walked back to the house, weary but content, the tension that had built inside him released by the run through the woods. He touched the cut along his eyebrow, smiling. A branch had come too close, snapping back faster than he had expected. He would have to remember to ask the professor about the species. But it had made for a more interesting night.
"I can take a look at that for you," said a voice coming out of the shadows of the back patio.
His head snapped up but he relaxed as he saw Jean Grey there. "It's nothin', m'mselle. A scratch."
"Let me see it," she said, coming forward. Her flaming red hair caught the dim light as she moved, her dressing gown a pale ivory in the moonlight.
He ducked her outstretched hand instinctively, shook his head to cover it, "No need to soil those lovely hands. See," he drew out a handkerchief from his coat pocket, dabbed it at his eyebrow, "c'est finis." He headed for the door, she accompanied him.
"Late night."
"For both of us, non?"
"Restless night."
He merely nodded.
"You took a run to work it off... what should I do?"
He cocked his head, studying her, "Mansion's certainly not lacking in choices, chere, you do whatever you wish."
"But it's such a lovely night... No need to be indoors, the pool would do just as well don't you think?"
"Oui."
"Would you care to join me for a swim? You must be hot from all that exercise."
"Not t'night, I've done my share of l'exercice."
She shrugged, took a step toward the pool, untying her robe as she did so, then turned, "You sure you won't change your mind?"
She wore a very bare bikini under her robe, showing off a very nice body. Firmly, he shook his head. "Time to sleep."
Smiling very slightly she turned again, her lovely red hair sweeping her shoulder to cascade down her back as she dropped the robe. "Sleep well, Gambit." She could feel his eyes on her as she made her way to the pool and to the diving board. She knew he continued to watch her as she arched her body for the dive, but when she came up again, he was gone. She still smiled. His room was on this side of the house. And she would be splashing just enough to make sure his sleep was anything but "well."
****
Gambit was one of the last of the X-Men to rise, but he found a couple of stragglers in the main dining room. One of them was Rogue. With a smile, he grabbed a cup of coffee and went to sit by her. She didn't look up from her coffee, saying merely, "You missed it, Remy."
"What, chere? You still here."
She still did not look up but smiled, "My blueberry muffins, Ah got up all special to bake them but you overslept. They're all gone, now..."
"I prefer the company to the muffins, eh, chere?"
Now she looked up and was grinning widely, "You never stop, do you?"
"You are an inspiration." He sipped his coffee, "P'haps to console me for de loss o' th' muffins you might care to take a ride with me, to the beach?"
"There's a pool right here."
"There are also many, many people with little better to do than t' watch others havin' a good time."
"There are people at the beaches, too."
"But I know a special place, a breathtaking view, the crisp ocean breeze, jus' you and me..."
"Ah did make a pie that would be just perfect for a picnic."
"Ah, chere, baked with your own two hands..." he said, fingers slowly moving toward her hands.
She took hold of her coffee cup with both hands and raised it to her lips though she did not drink, "A pie ain't enough for a picnic, though."
"I'm sure we can find something else," he said with a slight smile as he took his own cup, sipped it. "We got th' time, chere, might as well use it."
"Well..."
"Got time for what?" Logan said, sidling up to the table.
"For--"
"Relaxation," Gambit put in. "With no worlds to save we got some time t' relax, don' we."
"Yes," she said, not looking at Logan. "Just relaxin' away."
A slight smile curved his face, "I guess we should all relax together, huh, bub." He pulled up a chair and plopped his coffee mug right between them.
"It's tres reconfortant to be part of a group that likes togetherness so much," Gambit said with an ever so slightly dangerous gleam in his eye.
"We're all one big happy family here," Logan agreed as he took a drink, not the least bit disturbed.
"Uh, think it's time for me t'leave, promised Hank Ah'd meet him for a workout. See y'all later," Rogue said, rising hastily.
"Oui, chere, be seeing you later for de consolation," Gambit said. Rogue blushed but nodded just the slightest bit as she hurried away. They both watched her go.
"You best treat her right, Cajun," Logan said, not looking at him.
"Intend to do just that."
"I mean it, kid," Logan said, his claws extending just a fraction.
Gambit met his eyes, his own level and for once, serious, "So do I."
The claws retracted as Logan studied him through narrowed eyes. "Time will tell." He finished his coffee and stood, "Be seein' ya, Cajun."
"Good day to you, too, m'sieur."
"Well, well, having breakfast all alone, Remy?" Jean said, walking over with her food.
"Looks like."
"Late nights make for late mornings, hmmm? Guess night owls have to stick together."
"Dere's quite a bit o' t'getherness in de X-Men."
"Too much?" she smiled, reached for some toast.
He shrugged, winced a bit as his shoulder twinged, another souvenir from the branch's recoil. "Mebbe."
"Something wrong?"
"Pulled a muscle."
"You wouldn't let me help with the cut, but it won't get my hands dirty to help with this, would it?" She was already rising.
"Ah, dat's very kind, but you--"
"Quiet, now which shoulder is it?" she asked briskly.
"De left," he replied, thinking that perhaps he was being foolish about this.
"All right then, let me see what I can do to make it all better..." she said as she put her hands on his shoulders and started massaging.
"You don'--" he stifled a moan as her fingers bit deep, expertly, into his muscles, "you got quite a talent for this."
"If you'd just relax, it would be even better."
"Impossible, chere," he said, eyes closing.
"That's it, just relax back, and I'll take care of everything," she said softly.
"Meet y'all by the pool, Hank," Rogue said as she turned to the dining room. "Forgot my sunglasses."
Hank had seen Gambit go into that very dining room some fifteen minutes earlier and he had not come out. He very much doubted that sunglasses were Rogue's only goal. Still, she was hardly a child; they could both take care of themselves. It looked like he would be doing his workout alone.
"Must have left them right--" she began as she rounded the corner into the dining room, stopped, eyes wide. Gambit was leaning back against Jean, his eyes closed, her hands roaming his shoulders and neck, his face. Rogue couldn't say anything, but there was nothing on this earth that would have made her go to that table and get her sunglasses. She took a step back, then another, and finally ran as Jean raised her face and smiled at her, ever so slightly, her hands poised on Gambit.
"Don't think Ah need them after all," Rogue said as she passed Hank on the way to the pool. He stared after her, surprised, then glanced back, through the French doors into the dining room. There was Gambit, and Jean standing right behind him. He frowned slightly. It could have been a trick of the light, but her smile... just like the cat who ate the canary, and now had all the eggs about to hatch.
Jean smoothed the line on Gambit's forehead, the same smile that Hank had been so curious about still playing about her lips. She heard someone going by the hall, hoped it would be Rogue again, or perhaps Scott. They were mere paws in the game, her real quarry well in hand, so to speak, but there was a certain satisfaction in seeing the effects of all her machinations bear full fruit. Instead it was Ororo. No mere pawn she, but a quarry of another sort.
"At four, then, Bishop," Storm called back as she walked.
Gambit heard her, seemingly from a distance. He was supposed to speak with her about something... what was it. It would be so pleasant to just sit here... but he had to get up, didn't he? Struggling half heartedly, he fought towards full consciousness, groping through the fog in his head. It was so quiet here... No, he had to see her, had to--to talk to her, to warm her--there could be danger. Danger. Must get up... Danger. His senses screamed inside him and he jerked awake, fairly leaping from the chair.
"Was it something I said?" Jean asked with an innocent air, though her eyes were a trifle hard.
He said nothing, took a step back, shook his head. It couldn't have anything to do with Jean, could it? Non, that was un absurdite. He tried for a smile, "I remembered, got t' talk to Ororo, promised the pr'fessor... Au revoir, and merci, m'mselle." Trying to hurry away without looking like he was hurrying away, he went the way Storm had gone.
Jean's face was expressionless, but her fingers gripped the back of the chair, white and hard as talons. "Once again you escape with my prize, wind rider, but I will have him yet, and for you... hell to pay," she whispered.
Gambit did not look back at Jean, still unnerved, on edge yet unable to believe that Jean Grey, one of the original X-Men, one of Charles Xavier's prize pupils, certainly one of his most trusted pupils, could have anything to do with the web he saw being woven. "Stormy, you have a minute?" he said as he caught up to her.
She was going to say no, she had promised to go over some field reports for a meeting with Scott and the professor later that day, glanced at his face and nodded instead, swallowing the reflexive objection to the nickname. Few others would have seen the tension in his eyes, the sense of imminent disaster, but she had spent months with him, just the two of them, and she had learned a few things about him. "Something is troubling you?"
He gave a sharp nod, his expression fairly screaming 'in private.' Again she nodded, and he steered her through the nearby doors and outside, taking a path back to the woods. He waited until they were out of sight of the house, slowed. He glanced at her and she waited, knowing that prodding Gambit was as useless as prodding a mule. Both did things in their own time.
"There's somethin' I got t' say t' you, t' tell you..." he began. "I--de agility, chargin' th' cards... dat's not all I can do."
"What else?"
He took a deep breath, "Sometimes, only sometimes," he stressed, "I have a sense, I see... what's woven, what's gonna be... th' way th' threads will go."
"You foresee the future?" she said, stunned, "Have you informed the professor? He needs to be told--"
"I told him already, last nigh'."
"But Gambit you have been here for nearly 10 months!" She eyed him a bit more reproachfully, "And we were partners for another ten before that--"
"I know, Stormy, but this... it don't work every time, chere, never when I want it," he tried for a smile, "worse than when you were still a child and wanted to call your winds."
"You are uncomfortable with your ability?"
He nodded. "Never liked it. They come on so sudden... can ruin jus' about any day."
"Gambit, you are the last person I ever expected to have trouble dealing with a mutant ability. Your guilds, your family, supported you and even encouraged mutant talents, I suspect."
"'s not th' same, chere. I know we ain't abominations, or de genejokes like some say... but there are some things we weren't meant t' do."
"If it were not meant, the Goddess would not have created you as you are."
He smiled self-mockingly, "I never had your faith, chere."
"Perhaps you should try," she said quietly. "We all have parts of ourselves that are not as we wish. We must accept, however, there is no other choice."
"Not that simple."
"Never is it simple."
He sighed, "A desire for an argument or a lesson in self-acceptance is not why I arranged dis here t'gether."
She chose to respect his change of subject, but she, like the professor, would not let it lie indefinitely. She was sure he knew it, too. "I had guessed as much."
"I've been having a feeling lately, a strong feeling, seeing... not seeing 's more like," he said half to himself, "seeing somethin' coming, hands weaving a web meant to snare. Snare you and me both."
"Who?"
Jean's face popped up and he considered telling her, but dismissed the idea. She would never believe--he wasn't sure if he did, "I can't see. De pr'fessor asked if it was someone we fought when we were partners but I told him that couldn't be--"
She was nodding, "I do not see how it could be either. We stole many things, but no one knew our identities, and none would know us as we are now. The Shadow King and nanny are both gone."
"That's what I said to Xavier. I don' know who's behind this, but I have a feeling dey're already too close... hidin' jus' a step away, behind a shadow, a face..."
His eyes took on a remote quality that she had never seen before, he mumbled words that made no sense to her, "Dead not, de mistress o' the hounds will not die... cannot die weaving her web, easy to take the lingering ashes for the joining... De mistress will have her prey and for you hell to pay..." He shuddered, shook his head, "Merde! I can't break through, can't see..."
"Perhaps because it is not set," Storm said though Gambit had unnerved her. Those last words of the seeing had been meant for her, she was sure of it. 'For you hell to pay.' "Who or what is the prey?"
"I think... I am."
"I see." She eyed him thoughtfully, "The mistress of the hounds after you, and for me hell to pay. Why I wonder?"
"Je ne sais pas." He shivered, "But I think we don't have long to wait, chere, not long 't all."
"We will be ready."
He didn't think so, but didn't say it.
They walked quickly through the woods, both eager to be out in full sunlight again, hoping that the clear warmth would lay rest to fear. Fear is healthy, Gambit thought, it warns. "Be careful, 'Ro."
"You as well. Find out what you can, work with the professor," she paused, thought perhaps he'd be more comfortable with a teammate, "or Jean--"
"Non," he blurted, tried to soften it as he saw the surprise on her face, "I don' know. I will think about it. Talk to th' pr'fessor, mebbe. And you, if there's anythin' t' talk about."
She looked at him seriously, "Have you told me everything?"
"Oui," he said, but did not look at her.
"You should tell the professor everything, Gambit," she said as if he had not answered. "He has one of the finest minds in the world, and he may be able to discover connections between things that to us would seem irrelevant, or unlikely."
"I already talked to 'im, and he assured me we'd be talkin' in th' future."
"Tell him." She gave him a tight hug, "And watch yourself, mon brave."
"Toujours, Stormy."
"Do not call me Stormy." Smiling, she walked away and he smiled watching her. She was one of a kind.
"What's the matter, Remy? Two women not enough for you?" said an angry voice behind him.
Gambit turned, surprised to see Rogue's furious face. "Two?"
"Not anymore, no, Ah don't like bein' played for a fool and Ah ain't about to be part o'your harem."
"Chere, would you start talkin' sense?"
"I'll give you sense," she said drawing a fist.
"Whoa, chere, whoa now. Why don' you give ol' Remy a clue before you go do somethin' we might both regret?"
"Storm and Jean may not mind this arrangement you got goin' but this gal will not stand for--"
"Wait a minute. You think? Storm? And me?" he chuckled, "Stormy's my friend, and that is all, chere. Hell you know she's still in love with dat idiot boy Forge."
"But--"
"No buts, you know it's true. And as for Jean Grey...?" he shook his head. "What could make you think me and her...?"
"You're not wriggling out of this one Cajun. Ah saw you, the two of you oh so cozy over breakfast this morning--what with her hands all over--"
He rolled his eyes. "She gave me a massage--mebbe it wasn't a good idea--but dat's all it was, chere, a bad idea and th' easin' o' some sore muscles. Really."
"A bad idea? Ah'll give you sore muscles--"
"Look, I'm sorry about this mornin', but there ain't nothin' goin' on b'tween me and Jean," he grinned suddenly, "B'sides, I'd much rather have your hands all over--"
"Be quiet or you might still your wish," she said, trying to hang on to her anger but plainly failing.
"Well my shoulder is still twingin' from las' night."
"You'll be doing more than twinging--hey what happened last night? Was there an attack somewhere no one invited me to?"
"Chere, we would never dream o' goin' without you. This was strictly a solo act, went for a run in the woods, branch snapped back a little too fast," he shrugged, "happens even t' me."
She was watching him suspiciously, he strived to look innocent. "Hmph. That where your cut came from?"
He nodded. "Wounds o' war."
"Ah'll get you a medal."
"I thought you agreed t' give me consolation," he said smiling.
She blushed a bit. "The pie's gone."
"You ate it all, chere?"
She shook her head, lowering her eyes, "Not exactly... Ah was so mad at y'all, Ah threw it out the window. Meant to hit your bike but Ah missed."
"Temper, temper..."
"Yeah, well, long and short of it is, we ain't got food for the picnic."
"We'll manage somethin'. And this time, there will be no Bishop, neh?"
"Think Ah played his role already," she said, her flush deepening.
"No, de pie throwin' was mine. Let's go to de kitchen an' see what there is t' see," he said. She nodded and started turning. He put his hands on her shoulders, making her face him. "But 'fore we do that, we gotta get ourselves a couple of things straight, chere."
"Ah-"
"Shush. First, I don' mind a little jealousy now and then, but as a rule, non, d'accord?" She glanced down, bit her lip; he touched her chin with a gloved finger, made her look up, "Number two, I won't ever do anything to hurt you, chere." Before she could pull away, he brushed her lips with his and smiled though his eyes were serious, "You got that?"
"Gambit, you shouldn't--Ah can't--" her eyes were bright with longing and hurt and loneliness.
"We gotta start somewhere..." Again he touched her face with a gloved finger, drew her to him. Hesitantly, shyly, she let him pull her close, holding him and feeling him holding her, feeling the reality of him, hearing his heart beating in his chest, feeling the roughness of his shirt on her cheek. It was so good to feel him there, but it made her want more. A more they could never have.
"Ah could kill you," she whispered.
"I've survived worse..." he said softly, a distant edge in his voice, then he drew back and smiled down at her, "You're not such a bad way to go, as ways go, chere."
"You really are a scoundrel," she said with a shaky smile.
"I'm a hungry scoundrel. Let's raid that kitchen, neh?"
They did a job on the kitchen, snuck away and were off on his bike before the various self-appointed chaperones knew what was going on. True to his word, Gambit brought her to the ocean side, high atop a cliff, with a great view, just the two of them. Both used the time to forget reality for a while. Here they could almost pretend...
****
Back at X-mansion, Storm could not pretend. After leaving Gambit, much as he had predicted the night before, she went straight to Charles Xavier. Knocking on his study door, she barely paused to hear his response before coming in.
"I've been expecting you, Ororo."
"I have just spoken with Gambit. I believe him." Her chin was slightly up, her body in fighting stance.
"So do I," he said mildly, a touch amused. While it was true that Gambit did not enjoy a spotless reputation among the X-Men, neither was his word automatically distrusted. Especially in a matter like this. "What did he tell you?"
"That there is danger, to me, to him," she said, relaxing a bit and coming to take a seat before his walnut desk. "He had a vision while we spoke. It seems the threat comes from a woman, the mistress of the hounds. There was also something about ashes, joining, and he said that the mistress could not die."
The slight tensing around her eyes told him there was more even had he been unable to sense it in her mind. "And?" he prodded.
"He said that he was the prey, and for me, hell to pay." She paused, fingers tracing the design on the armrest of the chair. "He said it would be soon." She looked up at him suddenly, "What do you think, Charles?"
"I think that young man will never cease to amaze me," he sighed. "I'm sorry, I know that wasn't the answer you were looking for. Like you, I have... faith I suppose is the best word, faith in his talent--he's uncomfortable with it, but we'll have to work on that aspect later. For now we must all concentrate our energies on discovering who this mysterious mistress of the hounds is," he glanced at her, "The name, the image doesn't conjure anyone to your mind?"
She shook her head. "Not really. There were the Shadow King's hounds, of course, but he was their master, and both he and they are gone."
"True... his name seems to crop up consistently, though, perhaps we shouldn't take it for granted that he's gone. The hounds you speak of, they would be dead by now. All his servants die eventually, he poisons them from within. There must be something else."
"The body of his servants have all been accounted for, and there wasn't even a trace of him in the old house he used in Virginia."
"Jean was sure?"
"Yes," she replied, but he caught an odd tone in her voice.
"What is it? Was there something Jean mentioned? Something that might have lingered?"
"No, this has nothing to do with Jean truly... Rather with Gambit. I had the sense that he was not revealing everything, and like you, I urged him to develop his talents. I suggested he work with you, or with Jean. It was most strange, even looking back on it... His reaction to Jean was abrupt and almost," she tried to find another word but none fit quite as well, "fearful."
****
Gambit took a deep breath of the crisp salt air, sighed as Rogue gently massaged his neck, "You have magic fingers, chere."
She grinned, "Remember, the only reason Ah'm doing this is cuz you're gonna pay me right back, you got that, swamp-rat?"
"O' course. I always pay my debts," he turned over and she pulled back, reflexively cautious. He reached for her hands, rested them on his chest, "and I thought we were makin' progress... we still have a ways t' go, chere."
"Not for lack of effort on your part, sugah," she said, smiling at him.
"I'm nothing if not persistent."
"You're lots more than that," she said, leaning down and resting her head against his chest. He tensed and she immediately pulled back, hurt. Just when she thought--
"We ought t' be getting' back," he said, an edge in his voice, a blank look in his eyes.
"Gambit?" she asked uncertainly, realizing that his tension had nothing to do with her touch.
"We got t' hurry, chere." He was already rising, eyes on his bike. He glanced back at her, offered her a hand up, "I'm sorry to cut things short... we'll save somethin' f'r nex' time."
"What is it?"
He hesitated, "I jus' got a feelin' dat we ought t' be back... Things have been too quiet, neh?"
"You really must be nervous, you're usually a much better liar 'an that." But she was picking up their things as quickly as he.
Abruptly he straightened, dropping the half-gathered plates, "Chere, we ain't got time f'r my bike--how fast can you fly us home?"
"Half the time it takes to drive, even the way you do it."
"Let's go."
Shaking her head she picked him up and took to the skies, "You know you ain't getting away with no explanation for this, don't you, sugah?"
"I know. Hurry, s'il vous plait."
"All right, but don't think this means Ah trust you or nothin'."
Despite his tension he smiled, touched her hand, "Wouldn' dream of it, chere."
****
Storm emerged from the room where she had been going over some history lessons with Bishop, looking for the professor. Their conversation had been interrupted by Cyclops and Wolverine, both with grim news about some of the mutant forces that were acting in Magneto's name. There were three or four of those groups now, and it was difficult to discern which, if any, was actually acting on Magneto's orders. 'Goddess, what a coil!' she thought, frustrated over her impotence, further on edge because of what Gambit had told her. Perhaps a session in the Danger Room would help her work out her tension. The idea stuck in her mind and the more she thought of it, the more it appealed to her. She would go right now, she could always see the professor later.
It was important that she speak with him, though, perhaps--no, I must work out these frustrations first. She pushed the door open, and walked in.
A second later she screamed.
****