"I haven't heard from you for awhile, Mr. LeBeau. I was beginning to think the task was too difficult for you."
"Monsieur Kroker –"
"Doctor Kroker," Kroker interrupted.
Gambit gritted his teeth. "You wan Wolverine an Rogue, Gambit bring dem to you. But y' got t' stay out of my way."
Dr. Kroker sniffed disdainfully. "Very well."
He turned back to his work and Gambit moved to leave.
"Do you really think it was wise of you to abandon your observations, Mr. LeBeau? After all, if they are as professional as you seem to think, it seems to me they could be long gone before you ever get back."
Gambit clenched his fists. He was having a bad day. Several bad days actually. The last thing he needed right now was some mad scientist second guessing him. He was just about to say as much when a tiny cell phone rang. Cursing, Gambit reached into his pocket and took it out.
"Oui?"
"Dey checked into a hotel about an hour ago. Dey've been talkin' about movin' on. De man wan to go to a place called Alkali Lake to find his past. Dey leavin' in de mornin'."
Gambit smiled. "Stay wit dem. I'll be dere tonight."
Hanging up, he turned to face Kroker.
"Wolverine and Rogue are leaving tomorrow morning for a place called Alkali Lake."
Kroker nodded thoughtfully. "I've heard of the place."
Gambit grinned. "Den you won't have any problems getting dere." He turned and walked out the door. Before he left, he called over his shoulder. "Gambit contact you tomorrow, let you know how dey're doin'."
Kroker watched him go. There was something strange about this Remy LeBeau. It wasn't just that he was a thief, to the point of being legendary. He wore sunglasses constantly, even when he came to see Kroker at night. Kroker shook his head. He knew when people were hiding things from him. He glanced over at his Sentinel. Ah well. If Gambit really was a mutant, he wouldn't be able to hide from Kroker for long.
Walking over to a hidden door, Kroker punched in his access code. As the door slid open soundlessly, the light from the other room shone inside on a medical table. A large body with long blond hair and hands with fingers ending in sharp talons, was being monitored by a number of machines. Adamantium restraints across the arms, legs, chest, and head held the body immobile, even if it had been able to move. Kroker walked over and stood beside the bed.
"Soon," he whispered.
* * *
Wolverine's eyes followed Rogue around the room as she walked around getting ready for bed. It felt good to be alone together. Not that the mansion had been that bad, they'd had their own room. Still, it just hadn't been the same. Being an X-Man had been kinda fun for a while, but it just wasn't him. He missed being a free lancer.
"Hey, darlin'," he said suddenly.
"Yeah?"
Rogue finished brushing her hair and came to lie down next to him on the bed. Wolverine put an arm around her and she rested her head on his shoulder. She'd thankfully taken a shower and washed Gambit's scent off her. Part of Wolverine was still angry at what had happened, but he knew it hadn't really been Rogue and staying mad would only ruin what he knew they had.
"What do you say, after we check out Alkali Lake, we go back to Canada. Not my old place," he added. "I mean get a new place for us."
Rogue smiled, her amber eyes shining. "Oh, Wolvie, that sounds wonderful."
Wolverine grinned. "We made a Hell of a team, I see no reason to stop now." His eyes grew serious. "I want to be with you. I can't imagine my life without you."
"I wanna be with you too," Rogue said softly.
Wolverine looked at her face and felt emotion wash over him. Foregoing any more talk, he lifted his arms and brought her face up to his, taking her mouth in a passionate kiss. Rogue responded with the same intensity that she'd seen him fight with in the cage. Wolverine groaned and pulled her up until her entire body was on top of his. Pressing his hips up, he ground himself against her, letting her feel how much he wanted her. Rogue moaned and pressed her body down into his. For what seemed like forever, they plundered each other's mouths, seeking to say with actions what they couldn't express with words. Finally, Wolverine pulled back.
"Mine," he growled.
Rogue giggled, but was cut off when he took her mouth again. His hands roamed up and down her sides, sliding underneath her shirt. Rogue gasped and moved to give him better access. He pushed her into a sitting position, rising with her so their mouths stayed pressed together. He pulled away only long enough to lift her shirt up over her head. Her bra quickly followed, exposing her breast to his roaming hands. When she cried out at his ministrations, he growled and broke the kiss, moving his mouth down to take one breast in his mouth.
Rogue let her head fall back, waves of pleasure coursing through her. Wordlessly, she tugged at the hem of his shirt, sighing when he paused to pull it over his head. As he tossed it to the side, she let her hands run over the broad expanse of his chest. His chest hair tickled her skin and Rogue moaned. Wolverine responded by flipping them over so she was underneath him. In seconds, her pants followed his shirt over the side of the bed.
As Rogue ground herself against the bulge in his jeans, Wolverine growled appreciatively. His mouth crushed hers as he kissed her again. Moving one hand down between them, he slid one finger inside her panties, drawing it along her moist opening. Rogue gasped and pushed up against him, straining for more. Wolverine groaned and slid his finger inside her, alternating between soft thrusts and gentle rubbing against her clit. He let his senses and her reactions guide him until she was bucking beneath him, muscles clenching as she climaxed. He grinned wolfishly when she finally opened her eyes. She watched with a glassy gaze as he slowly raised his finger to his mouth and sucked on it. Her eyes closed and she rose her hips to grind against him again.
"Wolverine," she begged.
Wolverine felt his pulse race at her implication. Carefully, he ground back against her and was rewarded with a sharp keening. Rogue reached down and tugged at the waistband of his jeans. He let his head fall down so he could whisper in her ear.
"Darlin'. . . you sure?"
Rogue nodded emphatically. Wolverine felt a surge of blood rush south. Slowly, he stood up and got off the bed. When he returned, he had divested himself of his jeans and was holding a foil package in his hand. Still cautious, he reached for her panties, tugging them down over her legs and letting them fall beside the bed. Opening the foil package, he rolled the condom on and positioned himself at her entrance. He looked up through eyes heavy with desire, needing her to give him permission. Rogue looked up into his eyes and raised her hips up, pushing him inside her slightly. A flash of fear flickered across her eyes, but she gritted her teeth and thrust up towards him. Wolverine groaned and pushed inside her, trying desperately to be gentle so as not to hurt her. When she moaned underneath him, he felt himself lose control. Growling, he pulled out and thrust into her, hard. Rogue cried out and closed her eyes against the wave of sensation. Encouraged, Wolverine set up a steady rhythm, sliding in and out of her faster and faster until they were both gasping. He could feel himself already close to orgasm, but he tried to hold out. He needed to make this good for her.
Rogue let her enhanced senses surge, pleasure rushing through her as Wolverine pumped in and out in an tortuously sensual rhythm. It wasn't long before she found her climax again, this time the clenching of her muscles pulling Wolverine along with her. As he came, Wolverine leaned down and bit into her breast, the animal in him seeking to remove any trace of Sabretooth's claim. Instead of scaring her, his action created an erotic combination of pain and pleasure, and Rogue cried out in ecstasy as he lapped at the drops of blood on the rapidly closing wound. For awhile, they stayed as they were, breathing heavy and reveling in the feel of one another's body.
Finally, they pulled apart. Wolverine removed the condom and discarded it, quickly returning to pull Rogue into his arms. As he held her close to his body, he felt a peace he hadn't known was possible. Rogue sighed contentedly. Neither of them spoke as they drifted off to sleep.
* * *
"Did you get the blankets?" Rogue asked. She frowned as she looked at their supplies. Mystique had always insisted on having a checklist for everything. Wolverine had shunned the idea and said that he was well aware of what they would need in the Canadian wilderness and he didn't need a list to remind him. She was sure they were going to forget something.
"Yeah, I got the blankets." Wolverine threw the last load of supplies into the truck they had bought for the trip. He smiled at the look of doubt on Rogue's face. She was so cute. He walked up behind her and put his arms around her.
"Come on, let's get a drink before we go, there's a bar right next door."
Rogue nodded and leaned back into his embrace. She gave their supplies one last glance and let Wolverine lead her into the bar. A few minutes later, they were both sitting at a table, beers in front of them. Wolverine took a swig of his beer and looked over the rim of his glass. His eyes had a wicked gleam in them. Rogue noticed his gaze and raised an eyebrow.
"And what may Ah ask, are *you* smiling at?"
Wolverine grinned and waggled his eyebrows playfully. Rogue blushed slightly.
"Men," she mumbled.
Wolverine laughed. He picked up his beer and was just about to take another swig, when a group of people sat down at the booth behind them. Normally, he would have ignored them. He was used to being in crowded places and could usually tune out the background noise. Then something they said caught his attention.
"So where is Jean-Paul anyway?" one of the women asked.
"Oh you know, Beaubier. He's over at the Pink Elephant."
Wolverine's eyes darkened. Rogue, who had also heard the exchange, frowned.
"Wolvie, don't. Just let it go. What are the chances that this Jean-Paul is Gambit?"
Wolverine growled. "How many Jean-Paul Beaubiers can there be?" He clenched his hand around his bottle, threatening to smash it in his adamantium grip. "What the Hell is he doing here? Did he fucking *follow* you? Can't he take a goddamn hint?!"
"Logan—" Rogue started.
Wolverine stood up abruptly. He looked back at the group they'd over heard and leaned in close to the nearest one.
"Where is this Pink Elephant?" he demanded.
The man looked at him, and then back at Rogue who had stepped up behind him.
"Uh, it's a couple miles west of here. Take 76 to 224, it's on the left."
Wolverine nodded, and turned to Rogue. She sighed and nodded. They turned and left the restaurant, leaving the table of strangers to stare after them. The man who had given Wolverine directions finally just shook his head.
"Damn. Jean-Paul sure knows how to pick 'em."
The rest of the table nodded.
None of them noticed the other figure slip quietly out the door, following right behind Wolverine and Rogue.
* * *
Gambit swore. "When did dey leave?" He listened for a few moments. "Right."
Hanging up, Gambit urged his bike to go faster. He had to make it to this "Pink Elephant" place ahead of Rogue and Gambit. Cursing his luck Gambit sped through a stoplight. A few years ago, he'd had a night of passion with a woman named Aurora. When he'd chosen to use her twin brother's name as his alias, he'd never imagined that he would have to worry about the real Jean-Paul Beaubier showing up. What were the chances?
Finally, Gambit saw a neon sign up ahead, proclaiming the small building next to it to be the Pink Elephant. The neon sign was itself a pink elephant, which flashed alternatively with its trunk up and then down. Gambit stared at it for a moment. There was something . . . suggestive about that sign. Shrugging that thought off, Gambit walked into the bar.
The smell of smoke hit him like a ton of bricks, and Gambit immediately reached for his own pack. As he exhaled slowly, Gambit let his red on black eyes roam over the room. It wasn't a very large club. One small room with a bar in the back right corner. Table lined the walls on either side with a few pool tables in the center. Gambit went to the bar and was surprised to find they had an excellent wine selection. Ordering a glass from the surprisingly friendly bar tender, Gambit made his way over to a table where he would have a view of the entrance. There was something nagging at him, but he couldn't put his finger on it. Settling down, he waited.
By the time he was on his second glass of wine, Gambit saw Wolverine storm into the place like a bull into a china shop. Rogue walked in behind him, a resigned expression on her beautiful features. For a moment, Gambit's mind flashed back to the previous night when his hands had roamed all over that body, drawing moans of excitement from her lips. He shook his head stubbornly, chalking the warm feeling spreading to the southern parts of his body up to the two glasses of wine.
Gambit went over his plan in his mind. He would just tell them that he had come up this way to see his girlfriend. He would explain that after what had happened with Rogue, he'd been wracked with guilt and come up here to apologize to his girlfriend and make amends. After all, who's to say it wasn't true? He kicked himself mentally. Wolverine didn't strike him as the type of person to believe in coincidences. Curse his sensitive hearing and the man in the bar who'd had such a big mouth. Sighing, he made his way over to where they had just walked in. Just as he'd suspected, he didn't even have to "accidentally" bump into them.
"What the fuck are you doing here?" Wolverine growled.
"Wolverine," Gambit started.
"Um, Wolvie?" Rogue spoke up.
"Didn't you do enough damage already?"
"Look, I just came here to—" Gambit tried again.
"WOLVERINE!" Rogue snapped.
"What?" Wolverine yelled.
Rogue glared at him, but decided to let the yelling go. Instead, she looked him in the eye. Then she looked over at the bar. Then she looked him in the eye. Then she looked over at the bar. Wolverine looked confused.
"What? You want a drin—" Then he froze.
"Oh."
Rogue followed his gaze back to the bar where two men were engaged in a kiss that would have melted the polar ice caps. She and Wolverine looked at each other again. Understanding dawned on Wolverine's face. He turned to Gambit.
"Shit."
Gambit looked at them, completely lost. Where was the tirade? What were they looking at?
"Um, like I was sayin', Wolverine, I only came up here to—"
"Don't," Wolverine interrupted. "Just forget it." He clapped a hand on Gambit's shoulder, and if Gambit hadn't been too shocked to move, he would have flinched at the unexpected gesture.
"Hey," Rogue broke in. "Why don't we have a few drinks? Ah'll be right back."
As she headed over to the bar, and Wolverine led him to a table, Gambit just shook his head in confusion. What the Hell was going on?
* * *
Wolverine shook his head in amusement. He'd never guessed that Gambit was gay. Then again, he reflected, the only time Gambit had ever really done anything sexual with anyone it was under Dominique's power. Even when he and rogue . . . well, it was Dominique not Rogue.
He looked at Gambit across the table. He'd seemed uneasy ever since they'd arrived. He must not be used to receiving acceptance from other people. Personally, Wolverine couldn't care less what anyone's sexual preference was. Unless, of course, it pertained to him.
* * *
Gambit raised his glass to his lips. He was on his seventh glass of wine and he still felt like he was in the twilight zone. Normally, he didn't allow himself to get drunk, but with Rogue and Wolverine treating him like their favorite person in the world, he decided large amounts of alcohol were called for.
He put his glass back on the table with a little more force than he intended. His plan had gone down the drain faster than a tornado. Wolverine and Rogue were not the least bit concerned with his explanation of why he was there. Instead, they seemed hell bent on being kind to him. Suddenly he realized Rogue had spoken.
"Oui, Chere?"
Rogue giggled. "Ah said, Ah'm flattered that you flirted with me at all, considerin'."
Gambit squinted suspiciously at her.
"Considerin' what?"
"You know," Wolverine prodded. "The gay thing."
Gambit blinked. His brain seemed to be failing him.
"Gay 'ting?"
Wolverine nodded. "If I'd known you were gay, gumbo, we could have avoided a lot of unpleasantness."
Gambit blinked again. Suddenly, understanding hit him like a sock full of quarters.
"You 'tink Gambit like men?!" he sputtered.
Rogue's eyes shone with suppressed laughter. He was so shy, it was adorable.
"Jean-Paul Beaubier, are you trying to tell us you're not gay?" she teased.
* * *
Jean-Paul raised his head in surprise.
"I'm not?" he asked out loud. He frowned and considered the matter carefully. The alcohol he'd been consuming for the last few hours made it considerably more difficult than it should have been. Despite what he'd just overheard, he was quite certain that he was indeed gay.
Looking around, his eyes landed on a table a few feet away. From the accent, he guessed that the woman with the white stripe through her brown hair was the one who had spoken. Getting up, Jean-Paul Beaubier stumbled over to the table.
"Excuse me," he interrupted.
Rogue, Wolverine, and Gambit all turned to look at the new arrival.
"Yes?" Rogue asked finally.
Jean-Paul leaned down slightly. Even drunk, he didn't quite lose the snarky attitude that was his trademark.
"I don't know who you think you are, but I'm telling you right now, Jean-Paul Beaubier is indeed, gay."
Rogue raised her eyebrows and looked over at Gambit, who had gone a ghostly shade of white. He started to get up from the table. Rogue and Wolverine turned back to the man who had just spoken.
"So what if he is?" Rogue demanded.
Jean-Paul looked confused at her angry tone.
"What the hell is your problem?" he asked, irritated.
"I'll tell you what our problem is," Wolverine interrupted. "You butted in on a conversation that was none of your business."
"Yeah," Rogue agreed. "You made poor Jean-Paul so uncomfortable, he left." She gestured towards the direction Gambit had gone. "And this is one of the few places he should be comfortable."
Jean-Paul stared at them as though they'd grown another head. The alcohol in his system was giving way to his irritation.
"Wait a minute," he said calmly. He pointed in the direction Rogue had gestured. "You think his name is Jean-Paul?"
"Yes." Rogue answered.
Jean-Paul blinked.
"Jean-Paul *Beaubier*?"
"Yes," Wolverine snapped. "What the fuck is your problem?"
Jean-Paul gave them one last look and straightened up.
"His name isn't Jean-Paul Beaubier," he said finally.
Rogue and Wolverine stared at him.
"How the hell would you know?" Wolverine challenged.
Jean-Paul rolled his eyes. When he spoke, he used the tone of someone speaking to particularly slow children.
"Because," he said slowly, "that's my name."