Title: Long Way Down
Authors: M/G & B/C
Rating: PG for mild language
Disclaimer: These characters belong to Marvel, and I'm not making money. I can't afford to be sued.
Gambit surveyed the street one last time. There were no streetlights nearby, but his blazing red eyes saw best in the darkness gave him exceptional night vision A faint breeze scuttled the dry autumn leaves across the pavement: the only sound in the peaceful Westchester neighborhood. Across the road, a bedraggled white dog stopped to sniff the air, then continued down the sidewalk.
Satisfied no one was watching, the young Cajun extended his metal staff and, with two lithe steps, vaulted himself gracefully over the brownstone wall that separated the Xavier Institute from the rest of the world. Once beyond the wall, Gambit quickly sought the cover of a nearby tree and held himself close to the rough trunk. His years as a professional thief would truly be put to the test this time as he prepared to reach and enter the main building of the Xavier Compound.
The Institute, far from being the simple boarding school it advertised to the public, was actually a training ground for young mutants learning to control their newly discovered powers. On top of that, Xavier's school was also home to the X-Men, a group of highly skilled (not to mention powerful) mutants possessing more advanced gadgetry than even the United States government. They were usually an open and kind-hearted group - toward humans and mutants alike - but if they caught Gambit this night, there was no telling what they would do with him.
"It's wort' de risk," he muttered grimly through teeth clenched against the cold, as he slowly crept from his shelter, scanning the face of the mansion for lit windows. Almost every public room of the elegant building was visible from the front of the compound, and Gambit, stealing toward the mansion, would be just as easily seen. "Merde," cursed the Cajun almost inaudibly. The Professor was still awake in his study. The former thief was confident he could deal with any of the other mutants, but the Professor was a powerful psychic, perhaps one of the most powerful mutants in the world. He would certainly detect him if he neared the mansion at such a quiet hour. Normally, Gambit could conceal his mind from even Professor Xavier, but after the events of the past weeks, he wasn't wholly confident in his invisibility. Being caught tonight was not an option.
Gambit sighed heavily and leaned his head back against the tree trunk. A few months ago, he wouldn't have cared. He'd have walked away from the mutants who'd turned on him without a second thought. But now, because of one man, he found himself hiding behind a pine tree at midnight, waiting to break into the very house he had been thrown out of just two weeks earlier.
Gambit tiredly mulled over everything that had happened again, just as he had every night since, wondering if the greatest happiness he had ever experienced could have been so completely destroyed in one chaotic night.
"Mon cher," murmured Gambit, his head lowered in sadness. He unfolded the collar of his trenchcoat and settled himself on his cushion of pine needles to wait - and to think.
"That's the third one we've lost in ten days! Why couldn't we save this one! Or any of them! We executed everything the exact way we planned it!" Scott yelled in the cold, blue metal control room, his words reverberating off of the walls.
Another child, this time a girl, had been kidnapped following a brutal fight with Sinister and his followers. Like the previous two incidents, the young mutant had been captured while passing through a run-down neighborhood, among the cardboard boxes and crumpled newspapers lining the streets. Each time the victim was alone, seemingly unaware of the reason for the attack. Little else was known about the stolen teenagers - they may not even have had families.
Using Cerebro, Professor X had pin-pointed this most recent attack, sending the X-Men to protect the child. The Marauders had somehow beat them there, without the help of any known device, and were hovering over the petrified youngster, leaving the X-Men no choice but to rush in to do battle for her safety. The team was brutally beaten. Jean's left ankle was injured, possibly broken, by the towering brute, Blockbuster, and she was carried back to the Blackbird along with Ororo, who was knocked unconscious when Scrambler sent her plummeting to the ground in mid-flight.
The outnumbered X-Men could only watch helplessly as the enemy took off with the frightened young mutant. A somber team manned the Blackbird as they returned to Salem.
Back at the mansion, Jean was found only to have a ripped tendon, according to Dr. McCoy, but Ororo had not yet regained consciousness after sustaining a concussion from her fall, and was sleeping peacefully in the bed next to Jean's. And now the others sat in a circle, discussing what mistakes they could have possibly made.
"Yeah, well, if I were to pick out one thing, it'd have to be Logan and his impulsiveness. He nearly cost us our lives, not to mention the girl," Scott opined confidently, with a smug glance in Wolverine's direction.
"Lay off, bub. If it wasn't for me, that little honey of yers would be paste on the floor. I saved her which is more than you did, sitting in the back row "strategizing" with little plastic models of us over a cardboard map. Ya need t'get out there and fight, ya little-"
"Enough!" Professor Xavier roared. "This is not what we need right now. This is the time for questions, not accusations. Why did we lose? Why do these mutants want children? And what I'm sure you are all wondering, what manner of technology has Sinister found that allows him to preempt all our rescue missions?"
The assembled X-Men looked around the room at each other, feeling like scolded children in the face of their leader and father-figure.
"I will meditate on this matter. You all should get some rest. But be prepared at a moment's notice. We've no idea how many more children they will take, or when they will strike next," Xavier cautioned, wheeling his way out of the control room.
The other mutants departed in silence. Watching the sullen procession, Wolverine noticed that Gambit, always a subtle presence at group gatherings, was entirely absent from this meeting.
Something's up with that boy, Logan told himself, ever since that first kid was taken. Someone should go talk to him.
Logan's thoughts were interrupted by Scott, who called him back to the control room just as he reached the exit.
"Logan...the Professor respects my plans, as does the rest of the team. I've proven myself as a capable leader countless times. And I can't stand it when you go off on some Rambo rampage and destroy it all," Scott stated in a low voice, unaware if any of the others were at the door listening.
"Well, maybe your plans have worked in the past because of my...what was it? Rampages?" Wolverine responded wryly.
Scott swallowed, hard, holding back the rage he felt toward anyone who questioned his planning abilities. "Look, I don't get you. I don't know why you're here. And I don't know what you're good for."
"I'm good for kicking the ass of the person you put a red 'X' on, Cyke," Logan smiled.
And with that, Cyclops stormed off, leaving Logan grinning like a jack-in-the-box.
Oh! Cajun...
On his way out, Logan went by the infirmary, where Jean's ankle was being examined by the team's furry physician. Jean called to Logan as he passed by, and he turned around, poking his head in the doorway.
"How is she, Blue? Anything permanent?" he asked the doctor.
Beast chuckled. "Not a thing in the world. She'll be running with the rest of us in a matter of days," he said, smiling and patting Jean on the back.
Logan smiled, too. "Well, good. Listen, guys, I've gotta take care of somethin', so you get feelin' better, Red. See ya, Doc."
Beast nodded to Logan as he left.
Logan's brisk strides echoed through the halls of the institute, passing by familiar faces, but none resembled Gambit's. He went into the yard, taking a deep breath of the sharp, cold October air, reveling in the perfect stillness of the evening. He took out a cigar and placed it between his lips, looking for a light. However, before he could bring a match to his face, he noticed Gambit's figure moving behind his drapes in his second floor room. Logan quickly re-entered the manor, pocketing his unlit cigar.
Wolverine jogged up the seemingly endless stairs to the men's residence. He wasn't entirely sure why the Cajun's strange behavior was bothering him, but he had learned long ago to trust his instincts. As he approached Gambit's door, he could hear muffled movement from the other side. He listened for a moment, then decided to knock.
"Hey Gumbo? It's Logan, man. Can I come in?"
The movement strangely seemed to stop.
"Gambit?" Logan tried again. No answer. He reached for the doorknob and turned it soundlessly, pleased to find it wasn't locked. He opened the door slowly, scanning the room for the young mutant he knew was inside. Taking a step into the tiny room, Wolverine finally spotted Gambit. He was crouched behind the door, head in his hands, seemingly oblivious to the concerned man standing over him.
Definitely the missions.
Logan approached the huddled form, not entirely sure of what he was going to say.
"Hey, Gumbo, don't worry about those kids. You know as well as I do that we'll get 'em back. We'll save 'em and th-"
"Shut up, Logan! Dey need parents, else dey gonna be t'ieves an' worse! Dey don' care any!" Gambit yelled, and in a flash he was on his feet, running toward his open balcony door. He leapt off of the ledge without hesitation, leaving a stunned Logan alone in the dimly lit room. Shaking his head, he ran to the balcony, praying not to see a crumpled mass on the grass below. Instead, he saw Gambit's shadowy figure running toward the nearby trees, trenchcoat flowing behind him like a cape.
"Son of a bitch," Wolverine said ponderously.