Title: Child Of The Snows Chapter 14.
Author: Andrea The Mad
E-Mail: andreaslaymaker@hotmail.co.uk - good, bad and ugly welcome. But if you hate it, at least try and be polite.
Disclaimer: Only Smoke belongs to me, a fact she is unlikely to let me forget. Everyone else belongs to Marvel - please don't sue me, I'm skint.
Archive Rights: DDFH - where else? But if you want it, just ask.
Rating: R for general unpleasantness, squickiness and quite a bit of bad language. But then, if you're squeamish you probably bailed out ages ago.
Summary: Smoke settles in, Remy makes a mistake he will never repeat, Marie needs a favour - and we meet two old friends……
Chapter 14
And Last
Pacing quietly through the silent grounds of the mansion, Smoke had time to consider all that she had been through so far. Quite exciting, really. It felt good to be finally free; after all, she had no reason to disbelieve them when they assured her she would be left alone within the grounds, and that they were a safe haven from the madness outside. She missed her home - more than anyone could know - but was beginning to realise that this place could be an acceptable substitute, at least for a little while.
She paused, lifting her muzzle to taste the scents of the chill, early winter night; sure enough and as expected, He was out there. Best find him and pay your respects, she thought to herself calmly; the land may - in human terms - belong to the Professor but it was His hunting ground. And it was never polite to move across a territory without paying your respects to their master and making clear your intentions.
She found him, leaning against a tree and contemplatively smoking one of his cigars, sending blue rings of scented smoke up to encircle the crescent moon where it could be glimpsed through the branches. Sensing that he was, at this moment, relaxed and at peace with both his surroundings and the night around him, she settled herself onto the cold ground to await his attention. Whilst she watched him she wondered if his mate had ever seen him thus; she had seen the wild, the furious, the confused, and even - she suspected - the afraid facets of his complicated nature, but perhaps had never been present to witness the sure and certain power of the Wolverine in his own place. Finally fixing his gaze upon her, he crouched down on his heels and held out one hand.
"C'mere Smoke," he said softly. She rose and moved into his touch, rubbing her back along his outstretched hand and leaning her head into his chest. He encircled her neck with his strong arms, and breathed in the faintly musky scent of her coat. For a while he held her so, two wild things at peace with their surroundings, both giving and getting reassurance and comfort. They separated then, and he regarded her seriously.
"You gonna be all right, kid?" he finally asked, softly.
*Do you know something? I really think I am* she replied into his mind. Then, almost slyly, *and your mate? The situation proceeds well?*
"Hmmm…well, you've got a lot to answer for there, darlin'…but yeah, it 'proceeds'. If the X - geeks will ever give us some damn space."
*Perhaps…if things do not improve…I may be able to help you*
She flashed him a wicked image, then; one that made him fling back his head and laugh out loud for the joy of it.
"Darlin', I might just take you up on that!"
He put his forehead against hers and rumpled the fur of her ruff affectionately.
"You want to go see your place, then?"
*Definitely*
"C'mon then…if you think you can keep up, that is…"
He set off into the tress at a swift, silent pace; leaving a mocking growl in her wake, Smoke followed him.
Home.
*******
It was a week later. The mansion inhabitants had become used to Smoke ghosting around the grounds, and even seen her a few times trotting through the corridors towards either the Professor's office or down to see Hank - always late at night. It was really beginning to feel as though she was part of the scenery; as though she truly belonged there.
One of the residents in particular had noticed the way she moved, silent and graceful in the form of a wolf, and decided it may be of use to him in his less…acceptable forms of recreation.
As Jean stitched his torn arm, with Hank observing darkly from a corner, Remy explained the woeful circumstance leading to his presence at the medical facility. It had begun much, much earlier that evening.
"Who is it?" Called Smoke fearfully. She was becoming used to being here, but still got quite nervous around people when in her human form, as she was currently.
"Don't be afraid, p'tite - 'tis only Remy, come to see how you settlin' in."
Tightening the belt of her robe around her - after a particularly embarrassing incident which had made poor Hank blush a very fetching shade of purple, she always remembered to put some clothes on before greeting visitors - she opened her front door to regard the individual waiting at the gate in the low fence which surrounded her garden. No-one came through or over that gate without her permission; the community had been warned that this would be regarded as a border violation, and would be met with deadly force. Probably. So best to ask first, right?
"I'm fine."
There was a pause whilst Remy decided how far he could push her, and she waited to see what he wanted.
"Could Remy come in, chere? He used to de heat of de south, an' all this cold air be bad for him." He lit one of his ever present cigarettes and watched her carefully from red-on-black eyes to see how she would react. No-one had entered her little haven apart from Hank, Rogue, and Wolverine; they weren't talking, and Remy did so hate a secret.
"No. I don't trust you. You hurt me, once - no one gets a second chance."
"Aah, you wound Remy. He jus' tryin' to be friendly, don' you see dat?" He spread his arms and gave her his best 'wounded innocent' look.
"Nope. So why don't you tell me what you want? Then we can both get in the warm." She was finding the hard tone difficult to maintain; he was, after all, an awfully attractive man, and did seem to be…interested in her. I'm nineteen years old, she thought with an internal sigh, and I've never even been seriously kissed. Not that I'd kiss him, of course, but…he is an awfully smooth talker.
"You heard bad stories about Remy? From de X-Men? Dey say you can't trust him, no?" He shivered. She looked unmoved. "Well, dey disapprove of how ol' Remy have to survive on de streets. He be a t'ief, you see."
"And?"
"He miss de excitement."
"Yes?"
"He need a partner. Someone who can move like de wind, silent as - smoke. Someone who feel de call of de wild, who needs to run free, a true spirit of adventure…" talking softly of adventures, excitement, wildness and fun, Remy had slowly stepped over the gate whilst he held Smoke's gaze. Before she realised it, he was standing right in front of her, long trenchcoat blowing to envelop her, his breath tickling her cheek, head bent over hers and strange, red eyes boring into her grey. She gasped, and made to step away; his hands touched her arms lightly, so lightly…gently caressing up and down, soothing and gentling, stilling her motion.
"He want you, Lady of De Darkness, Mistress Smoke…Remy want you…" he dipped his head to hers and captured her lips gently, gently, teasing her with their softness and warmth.
Smoke was about ready to agree to anything. He had managed to stir all sorts of emotions she never even knew she had, let alone had chance to use; he had played her like she was a fine instrument, and he a master musician. Except, of course, he had forgotten something.
She suddenly felt, above his feelings of desire and the burning of want, an ugly little thread of triumph. A nasty little picture from the back of his mind, involving a notch on a bedpost and a short, triumphant statement to her respected, beloved Logan:
"You not so tough, amie. Now Remy, he tame de savage beast where de Wolverine fail!"
She flung him back, eyes wide with surprise.
"Cherie? What de matter? You no wan' Remy no more?"
At that, her gaze hardened and she flung off her robe. Gambit's eyes widened with delight as he took in her shapely form; he began to move back towards her, but halted in horror as her form began to flow into another just as magnificent, but far more deadly.
"Get. Away. From."
*ME!*
Remy realised his error, and despite knowing the warnings - climb a tree. Find a stick. But never, never try to outrun a wolf - he turned and fled. Smoke chased him, determined to ensure that this time, he really did get the message.
He stumbled and fell, all his usual grace deserting him; not because he was being chased - that had happened to him many times in the past - but because his pursuer kept nipping in, slashing at him with her deadly teeth, and darting out again.
He was being played with. Toyed with.
Hunted.
And it made him afraid.
Finally, the lights of the mansion came into sight, and he knew, just knew, that he was a few paces from safety. She wouldn't dare attack him there, would she? He began to slacken his desperate pace when he felt a great blow to his shoulder that threw him flat on his face.
He laid still for a second, inching his hand towards a card in order to charge it up, and surprise her when she rolled him over.
Nothing. One minute, two. Then ten.
Twenty.
Finally realising that the last strike had been the final one, he rolled cautiously to his knees, and, seeing nothing, rose to his feet. When he tried to dust himself down, he realised why he was feeling so cold. Every item of clothing he had on - bar none - had been ripped, or torn, or shredded. Great bruises were beginning to flower on his pale skin where some of her strikes had been somewhat less than surgical, and he had also acquired a fine set of scrapes and cuts from his mad dash. Sighing, he turned towards the mansion.
And spotted her, sitting there as cool as you like, not ten feet from him.
Neither of them said a word. What could he say? Sorry?
Another swift movement; and before he could even flinch, he was flat on the ground again - on his back this time - staring aghast at the bloodied mess that had been his forearm not two minutes before.
*It looks worse than it is*
"Ahhh, chere…."
*Go. Just go. And never, NEVER, make that mistake with me again.*
A face appeared above his, eyes piercing.
*Or it will be the last mistake you ever make*
When he finally staggered to his feet some time later, she had gone.
**********
"Hey! Smoke! Sugah, you in?"
It was the following morning, and Marie had decided to get to the bottom of the rumour that was sweeping the mansion - and ask for a favour of her own.
A face appeared at the front door, followed by the rest of her friend's form securely hidden beneath a bathrobe.
"Come on in"
"Thanks" Marie hopped over the gate, and within five minutes was comfortably curled on Smoke's sofa with a steaming mug of tea pressed into her hands. She had to admit, she was developing quite an affection for English tea served the English way; another of the Professor's 'familiarisation' tactics. It also helped Smoke's confidence to be able to offer her visitors a beverage that she recognised, and they did not.
"So" she bagan, taking a sip, "What's all this ah hear about Remy nearly getting his balls chewed off last night?"
Smoke actually gave a snort of laughter.
"Nowt that drastic. I just…showed him the error of his ways."
"You sho' did that. I've never seen him so damn pale."
"Ha!"
They spent a few minutes in companionable silence, sipping their tea and crunching a few biscuits.
"OK, so what would you like to ask me?" said Smoke, finally. Marie laughed.
"How didja know?"
Her friend tapped the side of her nose.
"Smelt it."
"Damn! You're as bad as Logan!"
"So?"
So Marie explained. How she and Logan had become lovers - after a fashion - but that they were not being given any peace to enjoy some - how to put this? - quality time. Heavy petting was as far as it had got, and they were both beginning to feel the pressure.
"Logan's even been talkin' about leavin' - " noting the stricken look on her friend's face, Marie smiled and leaned forward to pat her hand "- don't worry, ah don't want to go either. It's mah home, you know?"
Smoke nodded. Marie added that whilst she felt the powers-that-be meant well, they were misguided in their belief that she just had a teenage crush on Logan; she was also sure that, if they had their noses sufficiently rubbed in the fact of this relationship, they'd accept it.
"So…Logan said you'd offered to help?"
"Yup. Whatever you need."
"Feel up to being fierce?"
"Absolutely."
"Right. So this is what we'll do…"
*********
It was not, in itself, an unusual sight.
A large, wolf like animal, laying quite still in front of a door, apparently on guard.
What was unusual, however, were the noises coming from behind that door, and the gathering crowd of anxious people in the hallway.
"It's important you let us speak to them!" snapped Scott, feeling absolutely furious that his wishes were being ignored. He was even more upset that Jean didn't appear to be backing him up; she and Smoke had simply exchanged a glance, nodded, then his wife had departed with a tap on his arm and a mental wish of "good luck"….he didn't understand it, and he didn't like it.
*No. It is not important. Go away*
"Now look here - " one step closer. The statue that had been lying so still became animated; Scott found himself staring straight down about a yard of hot throat, fringed with snapping, deadly fangs. Even through his visor - not a pretty sight. He stepped back one pace, and she stilled.
*Go. Away.*
"Jubilee! Get that lock off that door!" Scott's temper was beginning to wear thin. At a roar of:
"Oh! Yes! Oh baby, do that again….sooooo…good……ah!"
-he turned to Jubilee and practically spat "Now, dammit!"
Jubilee and Smoke shared a long look.
"Not me, boss. Sounds like the chica's having a waaaaaaay cool time in there - an I ain't crossin the bouncer, capish?" she cracked her gum loudly, making Smoke flinch and Scott jump, then turned and made her way down the corridor to her own room.
(Ah - just like - *crash* - *giggle* - oh, darlin'…do that again….)
Scott couldn't believe it. He glared at the junior team members who had accumulated to watch the scene - Smoke vs Fearless Leader - with the backdrop of Wolverine And Rogue Getting Their Oats…quite a show.
"Remy!"
(Oh!…OH…..yes, sugah, yes!)
The cajun raised his eyebrows in surprise when Scott barked out his name. He pointed to himself - with his good hand - and sent a questioning look.
"Yes! You! Will you help me?"
Again that long, long look exchanged with Smoke. He raised his hands in a negative gesture, and shook his head firmly.
(Oh - mah - GAWWWWWWD……….oh, Logan….)
"De chere an' Remy, we have dis understandin'. Helpin' you…dat not covered. Remy goin' for a beer now - why don' you join him?"
Scott practically sputtered. Remy shrugged, then turned to Smoke.
"De offer still dere, p'tite…if you wan' it."
She inclined her head gracefully, then watched him leave.
(The squeak of bedsprings, and the groan of floorboards.)
"What the devil is going on here? Scott? I'm sure I heard Scott here somewhere, he will be bound to know - oh my stars and garters, Smoke! What on earth-?"
Hanks questions were interrupted by the sound of screaming from behind the guarded door - loud enough to rattle windowpanes, they were not screams of pain, nor fright; they were, however, clear enough to silence all discussion outside the doorway. Scott's shoulders slumped. He might as well give up.
Defeated by the combined forces of love, loyalty, and lust. He sighed.
*Not a bad combination to lose to, is it?*
Good point. He was about to begin arguing again when Ororo silently glided up behind him, nodded gracefully to Smoke, slipped an arm through his and began to steer him down the corridor, ushering their wayward students before them. She could be heard gently reassuring her friend that things would undoubtedly unfold as they were meant to….eventually.
Smoke and Hank just looked at each other.
"Time for me to leave?"
*Sorry to drag you up here*
"Everyone needs a friend from time to time, and I am glad to know that you trust me enough to call on me when you feel the pressure getting too much."
*Thanks. Thought One-Eye was going to burst a blood vessel*
"He nearly did"
Their quiet conversation was interrupted by Logan's form appearing in the doorway, sweaty, rumpled - and wearing nothing but a small towel. Even Hank's nostrils flared a little at the aroma flowing from the superheated room before him.
Smoke sneezed.
"Ah…I…must go…I…see you later, Smoke."
Hank fled.
"Think you've solved our problem for us?" Logan crouched down, lowered his forehead to hers and rumpled her mane gently.
*If I have not, then my services are always available*
"Thanks darlin'"
*By the way-*
"Yeah?"
*Are bondings always this….noisy?*
"Only" grinned Logan, gripping a cigar between his teeth and lighting it, "when you are trying to prove a point."
************
"Sugah? Look down there."
Marie was staring down at the great sweep of lawn that could be seen from their window.
"Damn. They found her…"
It was snowing; the sort of snow that promises a thick white coat come the dawn, to sparkle and dance in the sun, and crunch beneath the feet. Playing in it, rolling and revelling, was Smoke.
And two big, rangy dogs that looked as though they had travelled a long, long way.
"She looks happy."
"That she does. You wanna come back to bed now?"
"You're insatiable!"
"It's the healin' factor…."
Through the snow, the dogs and their protector played until the sun came up over the horizon.
They had all come home.
THE END.