Disclaimer: I don't own X-Men. I wish I did. sigh
A/N: Here's a fun little side story that I wrote. THIS IS NOT A PAIRING!!!!!! So all you Romy fans don't smack me. I can see how you think this could be a pairing but it's not. trust me. And if you didn't think it was a pairing, well then...um...just ignore that.
Also, forgive my poor attempts at Gambit's accent. I have a very bare bones outline for it, and I really hate writing accents, but I am trying so be nice, or better yet, be helpful. By the way, I keep seeing people writing it chere, but I take French and I have never seen this word. So I'm going with my proper French unless people start beating me. So unless people in New Orleans have a weird way of writing the word, I refuse to change it.
I also hope people are able to follow my flashback type things. If you can't lemme know and I'll see what I can do about it. I just think it should be obvious as to what's going on when, but then again I am writing it.
Episodic: Thanks bunches for the idea. Hope you like it.
Curliest Guru: :)
Chapter 11: Past AcquaintanceX23 sat crouched in a corner half naked and sweating. For a day and a half she'd had visions of worms slowly ripping their way through her flesh. She was pretty grateful that phase of her with-drawl was over. She'd always hated that effect of the drug. Now she just couldn't stop shaking and she was so terribly hot. Her skin was dry and almost leathery. She felt that if her temperature increased anymore she'd spontaneously combust. It was so hard to keep her eyes open, but she didn't want to close her eyes for fear that she may never open them again.
"You look terrible, cherie." Gambit smirked from the doorway. X23 groaned, she'd always found his Cajun accent annoying rather than sexy like so many other vapid women. She struggled to turn her head towards the sound of his voice. Gambit, as always, immediately realizing the problem moved further into the room and sat on the medical table, legs dangling like a little kid. She assumed he found himself quite attractive with his skin tight black T-shirt and black pants. He wore combat boots similar to her own. She couldn't help looking into his unusual red eyes trying to decipher what he was thinking in this moment. Scratch that, she probably didn't want to know. He'd probably spent the whole time finishing undressing her in his mind. He cocked his head as though he were listening to something and asked her guardedly, "Do you remember me? I sure remember you."
"I hope you remember me kicking your ass." Gambit grimaced. He wished she wouldn't talk so loudly. After all, he had a reputation to protect here.
"I remember."
"It was your own fault."
"Here I thought pretty women liked havin' a dashin' knight in shinin' armor come to de rescue." If she had the strength she would have rolled her eyes at him. She settled for resting her head on her arms instead. Gambit stared at her. She was pretty, in an exotic, dangerous sort of way when she wasn't beating the crap out of you. She was like a Venus Fly Trap, dangerous but pretty in its own carnal sort of way. At his disgruntled grumbling she may have given a small smile or a grimace of pain. She closed her eyes, just for a moment.
It had been poor pickings ever for a seasoned thief such as himself. He was pretty tired. It wasn't always easy being a pickpocket, but he owed some people some money, and these were definitely people to whom you repaid your debts. He was in some city, it was sad that he didn't even know which one, and he didn't care. No city compared to his home, New Orleans, and since he wasn't pulling a big heist, his location wasn't important. If he was forced to stake his like on a guess he'd have said somewhere near Chicago.
From out of the corner of his eye he caught a flash of color. It was a hooker bedecked in a bright red boa and not much else. Normally, he may have engaged in a conversation, definitely would have flirted. Hookers were brazenly obvious and they could be an amusing distraction sometimes, but tonight he still had business to attend to. He was walking down the sidewalk when the same feathered hooker rushed past him obviously frightened.
He knew he was going to do it before he had turned and found himself at the mouth of the alleyway. The opportunity was just too good to pass up. He loved playing hero to the damsel in distress. At the end of the alleyway a small dark shadow was being harassed by two larger black shadows. He was just in time to see the smaller shadow shoved to the ground with one of the larger shadows on top. Gambit immediately sprang into action, cards in his hand, charged and flying in the blink of an eye. None of the cards hit anyone. He'd aimed to miss.
The larger shadow that wasn't occupied by the hooker turned, but Gambit was ready.
"I suggest you leave de fille alone." He drawled lazily. The larger shadow wasn't very smart because he charged Gambit only to find himself on his back up against the wall, dazed and confused. The other shadow shoved the girl into the wall as well and she fell heavily to the ground. Within seconds the second large shadow was taken care of. With a cocky grin he turned to use his charms on whomever he had just saved only to have a very solid fist connect very solidly with his jaw. Although he'd never admit it, he saw stars.
"What the hell is your problem? You have shit for brains?" He looked up into flashing green eyes that seemed to shine out from pale, luminous skin that shone like alabaster in the moonlight. Her dark hair floated bewitchingly around her face. This one would not have any problem reeling in the customers. Dark purple bruises mellowed and faded before his eyes. He heard the sound of blades being drawn and immediately snapped to attention. Claws that extended from the girl's hands confronted him.
"Merde, I attacked the wrong party."
"Fuck, you chased away the only business I've had all evening. You owe me for my two customers."
"But dey—" It suddenly dawned on him what had been transpiring. With a twisted grin like that of a death mask on her face she leaned in close and whispered, "You wouldn't believe how much money people are willing to spend to have me sink them into them." If he had been anyone else, anyone who hadn't seen half the things he had, he would have run screaming into the night. Instead he looked away, sorry he'd cost her some business for the night.
A hand came into his view and he was on his feet in an instant. The just shook her head and started to climb over some boxes. "C'mon, you can buy me dinner. I know a place that has some really great noodles." She shot a look over her shoulder, "Are you coming or not? I can find other ways of making you pay that would be much more entertaining for me." She said flexing her hands making her indications clear. Gambit figured it would be best to follow.
They entered the restaurant together. The interior was dimly lit; each table having only enough light to barley illuminated the cracked Formica that made up the tabletops. None of the chairs matched any of the tables, and there was enough smoke floating around to kill someone with lung cancer within five minutes. However, she was right. They had some pretty damn good noodles. He watched her as she slurped noodles out of the bowl with a child like delight that he knew few others probably ever got to see. After awhile, she sighed and said, "Let's see, two paying customers gone, plus a bad night equals one very unhappy boss."
"What do you propose I do about dat? I'm already payin' for de meal, but I can't make up for your customers." She jerked her head as though snapping out of a daydream.
"I wasn't suggesting that you should have to make up for them, just thinking out loud." She sighed again. It was clear that she was going to be in trouble. The problem Gambit was having was he couldn't tell if she was laying on the guilt, or just in general worrying.
After several bowls of noodles she finally seemed to have eaten her fill, something she must not have been able to do in awhile, they left the restaurant. They hadn't really spoken much, but they seemed to be comfortable just knowing the other one was there. Knowing that for a little while, neither one of them had to be alone. It was a surreal experience for both of them. It had begun to rain while they had eaten and she shivered a little as the first fat drops dampened her skin. Something settled around her shoulder encompassing her with warmth. She looked up, eyes contracting in surprise, but he was already gone. She put her hands in the pockets and proceeded to walk down the sidewalk in the opposite direction. Her fingers brushed the bills that filled the pockets, glad that the rain would hide her tears of relief.
Blood trickled down her forehead and colored her vision red. She sat on her heels, back spooned over the floor in a subservient position. She bit her lip. She could handle pain. It was what she was paid for. She kneeled before a large, solid man. His presence was dominating and he let everyone know that he was in charge. His hair was cut in the latest style, his clothes were of the finest cut. He was a businessman and his business happened to be whores. Today he wore a red suit. He wore a lot of red. It hid the blood. He'd shed the blazer and had his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His thick, meaty arms straining to be set free of the fabric. He was leisurely smoking a cigar.
"You aren't paid to take men out to dinner. What am I going to do with you? You didn't even bring in half as much money as Lucy, but you've had three more customers than she has. Fail me again and measures will be taken." She visibly began to tremble. The thing about the money wasn't true. She made more money than anyone else did in this hellhole. Her boss was predictable and he wasn't any different than the scientists at HYDRA. She could feel herself getting angry, but if she let it show they wouldn't leave her alone.
"I'll do better. I promise." She whispered. She was dismissed and made her way to the room provided for her, if you could call it a room. It was dark, there wasn't even a light. Why waste electricity on whores? She was grateful for her good night vision. She had a single, dirty mattress on the floor. The walls were dingy, the floor was dirty, and the one little window in the corner had no covering of any kind. The only thing that the boss spent money lavishly on was the clothes his girls wore. She hated this place and was still cursing herself for ending up in this situation. She'd been on the run from HYDRA for only about a month when she'd been attacked. She had still been suffering from with drawl and malnutrition, so she'd been too weak to fend the attackers off. When the boss sow her claws and healing factor in action he'd immediately come up with a use for her.
She took off her "costume" and slowly cleaned her sore body in a lukewarm shower. After about 5 minutes what little heat there had been was lost and the water turned ice cold. She turned off the shower and plugged the drain letting the tub fill to the brim. She submerged herself letting the cold, cold water flood over head and spill over the lip of the tub and onto the floor. Underneath the water she couldn't hear anything, not even the sound of her heart. The cold seeped into her skin. Once again, she was numb. She only survived by being numb. People in her profession had to be. They were soulless, sinful creatures good enough to fuck at night but not good for much else. She burst above the water with a gasp spraying water everywhere. She stood up and let the water drain out of the tub.
Drip, drip, drip...
She stared at her face in the mirror. It was perfect, whole.
Drip...drip...drip...
She wished she could tear it up. She wanted to strip the flesh from her face. She wanted to tear her hair out and gouge out her eyes.
Drip...dri...drip.
She extended her claws and slashed one across her wrist. As the few drops of blood welled up so did her tears. That's the problem with being a regenerative. You had a hell of a time trying to kill yourself. She sprawled on the floor, naked, cold, and crying.
