Remy LeBeau rapped gently on the doorway of what was designated Cayanne's room. Moments later, he was nearly knocked over by her enthusiastic embrace, and grinned down at her, ruffling her hair lovingly.
"Love you too, sweetheart." he said, wrapping long arms around the teen-ager. He felt a pang of concern over what he was going to say, but he had to do this. It was one of the most difficult things he had done.
"Yer Papa goin' with the team. Major problem, need our help." he said, trying to gentle the words as much as he could.
Cayanne's night-star eyes widened, and he felt her sense of dim panic. Then, in a low voice, "I go too."
"Non!" He spoke a bit more sharply than he intended, and the girl blinked, only relaxing when he crouched down to stare deep into eyes so like his own. "You lissen. Oui? No. Cayanne, you stay here. Dis safe place..."
"I'm not a baby!" the voice was sharp, full of fire - and trembling.
Please help me do this. he thought, not really sure where the sentiment was directed.
"Non. But not trained. Not yet."
Cayanne looked away. She was trembling, drew back slightly.
His heart broke, and he felt a rising fury at the Friends of Humanity that took him from the daughter who needed him. Taking her chin in a gentle hand, he caressed the hair from her eyes, continuing, "Yer Papa is an X-Man. Dese people - dey family. I trained. I go with them. You stay here. Wit de others."
Cayanne's eyes were suspciously bright as she hugged him, clinging tightly to the tall frame. Felt the comforting press of his arms. Refused to cry. "Promise me you come back." she whispered, ragged-toned despite her best efforts.
"I come back." He rocked her, held her one more moment. Then, kissing her forehead, "I bring something special back."
"You more dan special enough."
The mutant known as Gambit had to leave then. It was best that no-one know that, in that hallway, on the dingy-storm day, the Ragin' Cajin had to lean a moment against the stone. And weep.
Cayanne was moping. She knew it, tried to stop, and found that melencholy was not something she wanted to share. So she wandered aimlessly through the mansion, ignoring the supervisory staff - made up mostly of seniors - and finally came into the recreation room, where a new, large-screen televison had been recently installed. Kids were wandering in and out, several planning a game on the baseball field.
Turning abruptly, she went back into her room, digging into the well-hidden bag she had brought her few possessions with her in. After a few moments, her hands wrapped around a sqaushy, reassuring form.
The old, floppy thing was so well-used it was almost shapeless, but to Cayanne it was still the clumsily-made teddy-gator her Papa had given her, all those years ago. As a six-year-old, still fresh - or raw, more properlly - from the streets, she had dubbed it "Souris". It remained with her, now, years later. She closed her eyes, resting her cheek against it's comforting bulk, holding it tight against her stomach.
He had promised.
He had promised.
She sank down against the wall, feeling tears well up, ones she refused to let fall. The teen-ager clung to her childhood friend - for she had cried endless tears into Souris. Told her secrets, played endless games - and waited for her Papa to come home.
Grandpere' had always been good to her. Always there with a hug, encouragement, a new skill to learn, but she had yearned for the return of her Papa to the point it became a physical ache, one she carried with her even when her cousins were sent briefly to school in New Orleans. It hadn't worked out very well, and she had come back to learn from books.
And from the Guild.
She had passed all their tests, but her Papa had made clear that Cayanne was to be a gatherer of information, a co-ordinater, not an active thief. The others had said she was too young.
Until she had led Aluin, Destin, Garan, Mikael, and Wiatt on a coup that stole a business right from under the Assassin Guilds' nose.
Grandpere' not know whether punish us or praise us. she thought, with dry humor. And soon after, Papa come and bring me here. Was well worth risk!
Ah, but she still missed her cousins sometimes. All older than her, they had been - and remained - family.
Closing her eyes, she could see all of them again, hear their voices.
Garan, steady and cautious. Small, sneaky Aluin, who could pick a pocket before anyone could see it coming. Mikael, with his soft voice and deadly aim. Wiatt, who chewed enough bubblegum to choke most people and could assemble and repair a gun with his eyes closed. And Destin, who had run away from the Assassin's Guild and found a new home - now he had been the one with the sense of humor, alabit a slightly twisted one.
All of them, Acadian to the core - though Aluin and Garan were more Creole, they were Acadian.
She rocked silently.
Watched outside, and tried to not feel anything. Saw the students playing, running around, unaware - at least most of them - that her Papa, her - what? X-Men? Family?
Her mind whispered the last word, dancing cautiously around it like a surgeon around an open wound. She bit down on her lip so hard blood came. She didn't think about it. Practiced her mental shields. Struggled to make sense of the new formulae she'd learned in chemistry. Forced her mind along another avenue.
When Cayanne looked up again the sun had disappeared. It was dark, with a grainy overcast that hid the stars.
Blindly, she wrapped Souris up in her blanket, and headed downstairs.
Stryfe was seated on the couch, a look of monumental boredom on his strong-featured face as he used the remote control to examine the different channels when he sensed more than heard footsteps.
Cayanne froze on the threshold, a strangely lost, vunerable expression on her sharp features.
Before he could turn and look at her, she had crawled up on the couch next to him, nestling against his body.
He didn't look at her, knowing, somehow, that she needed that small dignity.
After a moment of silence, companionable rather than awkward, he wrapped an arm around her, holding her gently against his side as she used his leg as a pillow.
They were both staring at the screen, rather than at each other.
Oh, little one. he thought, and a strange twinge clutched his heart briefly. Then, a sharp need to tear apart the person who had hurt her, followed by a wave of quite - new - protectiveness.
It wasn't a person. Not really.
Only fear.
A far worse companion than most enemies.
He regarded the ludicrous posturing of the individuals on the screen, realizing with some semblance of disbelief that it was actually a courtroom. Court? Bah.
"Has everyone in this era taken leave of what little sense they were imbued with at birth?" he muttered, changing the station.
Another court show.
Inane.
Cayanne was nestled close to him, warm and steady, fighting off sleep. Flicker of fear against his mind, an uncontrolled send.
He would have to tell her about that one day.
Not now.
Vaugely, he remembered hearing Gambit singing something to her one night when she had been unconcious, a strangely comforting little tune. Remembering the words, he gently held the teen-ager on his lap.
In a deep male voice, softened somehow, he began to sing.
Hush little baby, don't say a word
Daddy's gonna buy you a mockingbird
If that mockingbird don't sing
Daddy's gonna buy you a diamond ring...
She looked up at him, trusting him, a love so palpable it needed no telepathy rushing from her to him in an uncontrolled wave.
Not as a substitute. Not as an "alternative".
No. As Rafe. Or Stryfe.
Only as him.
And if that diamond ring turns brass
Daddy's gonna buy you a looking glass
If that looking glass gets broke
Daddy's gonna buy you a billy goat...
He held her gently, unconciously rocking her against him. Sending the same feeling back. Not knowing how or why.
Not caring how or why.
And if that billy goat won't pull
Daddy's gonna buy you a cart and bull
If that cart and bull turn over
Daddy's gonna buy you a dog named Rover...
Her eyes were closed, breathing smoothing out.
Telekenetically, he lifted the blanket from her grip, reflexively catching the object that tumbled with it.
A small, oddly-made animal.
It was green.
Vaugely resembling creatures from that noxious program the younger children seemed to love so much, it was also unique.
Well used, as well.
He gently pressed it against her, hiding it between them.
And if that dog named Rover won't bark
Daddy's gonna buy you a horse and cart
And if that horse and cart fall down
You'll still be the sweetest little baby in town.
Cayanne slept. Fitfully, but slept nontheless.
Stryfe held her, rocking her gently, wishing suddenly that she had been his own.
Treasuring the act of trust, of love, even if the confused teen-ager that had entered the room had not considered it out.
Perhaps treasuring it more.
Logan was the first to bound into the Mansion. It had been a stupid situation, some crazy FoH wannabe-hunter had been chasing around a terrified group of parents only trying to protect their mutant children and he had left a few permenant reminders that the guy should leave them alone.
Let him rot in prison.
Guy was crazy. he thought, popping a cigar in his mouth. Deserved worse. The rage was dim now, coiling back down into him.
He had kept seeing Cayanne's face as they had chased down the kid-killer. The girl had only been - what, fourteen? Fifteen? Cut up, left to die - even he had felt sick.
The others were following him, exausted and ready for a break.
Logan stopped in the door, staring disbelivingly at the sight, then slapped a hand over Remy's mouth as he started to announce their return. "Shaddup, Gumbo." he rumbled, in a very low voice. "You gotta see this."
Crowding behind him, the X-Men beheld a sight that they had never expected to see.
Cradled in Stryfe's muscular arms, Cayanne was wrapped in a blanket, snuggled against his chest, fast asleep.
And as for the the would-be conquerer-of-worlds?
For once, he slept on, a faint, gentle smile still curving his features.
