(Eleven)

The X-men were moved to the alpha quarters as promised once Cerebus determined they wouldn't try to fight or resist. All their restraints were removed and they were allowed to roam about freely. They weren't so foolish as to believe they weren't being watched. Still, they settled in that night and tried to make the best of their situation.

Jacob was right when he said the alphas had better quarters. Their beds were significantly cleaner and they were given some Clan clothing and boots in good condition. Henry suggested that they dress like the Clan to be less conspicuous. Their Earth clothes were different and stood out. It was warm enough in the caves that it wouldn't be a too cold for them to go without shirts. Besides that, they had no real way to clean their regular clothes. They had access to a lovely ice cold bath, but not hot water. It was better than nothing so they would just have to deal with it.

The Clan was infested with head lice, but there was nothing to be done about it. Soon, they would be scratching and complaining as much as everyone else. Henry hoped it wouldn't be long for the last push to be made so they could get out of here. He had the most body hair and was certain to be infested all over. They were given jobs and told they would be paid thirty credits a week, quite a princely sum they were later to learn.

The alpha squads accepted them readily and they became part of the family. There were many different kinds of alphas here - telekinetics, teleporters, and men of great strength and wisdom. Henry was interested in the few pilots that were included in their ranks. Only two had been made by the Dognan and neither one was as powerful as Fallen. The others were children of the first two and even weaker. They looked completely human, but could produce small amounts of Ristle and were telekinetic. They flew ships, but always in twos and threes, never alone because they just weren't strong enough. Henry was convinced that if it was going to be a pilot that took them home, it would have to be Fallen.

Jacob gave them a brief history on the Clan. The Clan hadn't created Station Nine, they had found it already empty and claimed for themselves, just as Beast had suspected. Whatever perks that existed then - like scentless outhouses - they had accepted gratefully.

Until recently, the Dognan hadn't cared that a few crippled white slaves from the pens had gotten out and settled down out here. They had plenty of new slaves any time they liked and could care less what the Clan did. The Dognan used to fly out here and make sport with any slaves they could see, hunting them down like animals, but had otherwise left them alone. The Clan had been living here in their new found home for about two hundred years and over time had grown in number and power as they gathered their strength. They raided the furthest Dognan store houses and stole as much technology and comforts as they could. Still most of the conditions here were poor.

Everything had changed about twenty years ago when Cerebus took over and really organized the men. The addition of alphas to their ranks boosted them even more. With their unique talents, the Clan were finally able to inflict some serious damage on the Dognan. The Dognan were unprepared for the assault and the Clan took most of them down easily. There was one last stronghold left.

Remy woke in his bed on the first day of his new life as a Clansman with a disgruntled sigh. He wanted to be back home in the worst way. He loved adventures as much as the next guy but this was getting to be too much. He missed his home, something he never thought a drifter like himself would ever feel. He snickered softly. Not home. Rogue. He missed that fiery Southern Belle more than he could say and he could really use one of her bright shining smiles right about now. He'd even settle for a rip roaring fight, flying tables and chairs and everything.

He closed his eyes and pictured her face, trying to hold it in front of him forever. If he could hold onto that one thing, he could keep going. He felt horrible when he thought about how casually he'd said goodbye to her before they had left for that last mission. Cocky as ever, Remy had assumed nothing untoward would happen, he certainly never imagined he would find himself somewhere where he might never see her again. Just the thought of it made his chest hurt. He would make it back to her no matter how long it took.

He let go of her and sat up, putting his feet on the floor. He hated it here, it was so dark and dreary. Sometimes he felt like he just couldn't breathe in here and would find himself shivering for no reason although it was plenty warm inside the caves. There were no windows and no sunlight. Thinking of the cloudy skies of Cerise made him realize a window probably would be a waste of time anyways.

He knew Henry wasn't happy about the head lice but it was torture for him as well. With all the kids being rotated in and out of the orphanage, he'd been infested several times. Long hours he'd sat in misery while his hair was combed out for eggs. He'd even been made to endure a buzz cut a couple of times. That had been horrid, he loved his hair long and prayed he wouldn't be forced to cut it now.

He grabbed the neatly folded pile of his new clothes and shuffled off to the bathroom. He washed up as best he could, shivering from the ice cold water. As bad as he hated bugs, freezing was worse. Ever since he'd been left alone in the frozen wastes of the Antarctic, he could never stand the cold anymore. He'd spent more than a week freezing his ass off in the remains of their enemy's ruined base, numb, starving, praying for a death that had never come. He was found by some sledders who saw the ruins and wanted to check it out. They brought him back to civilization, but part of his soul would always remain there.

Gambit looked at his reflection in the large cracked mirror over the sink. His hand traced the savage scars on his chest that were a present from the infamous Victor Creed, also known as Sabretooth. They were a dark grey now, but he remembered a time when they had been a deep and ugly red, a more accurate mark of his terrible sin.

Sabretooth, the man who had mauled him so badly, was a vicious mercenary mutant with large claws on either hand, a five fingered Cuisinart that could put Freddy Kruegar to shame. He had been present on what was probably Remy's biggest fuck up of all time and gave him these as a parting gift. He'd been almost eviscerated and hadn't been expected to survive, Sabretooth rarely had folks walk away from his five fingered "massages". These scars were a permanent reminder of Remy's guilt and his inability to ever make up for such a horrific crime. It had happened years ago, long before he had joined the X-men and his keeping a secret of it had been the reason he'd been booted off the team once. He was back on the team again, but his heart was still heavy with it and he supposed it always would be.

"Gambit, you a t'ief an' a killer. Best get used to de idea, 'cause it ain't never gonna change," he whispered softly to himself. He looked into his blood red eyes and saw the sadness there. He didn't like it so he grinned and ran a playful hand through his hair in an attempt to shove all of his bad feelings down. "Self pity don' suit you, homme. You gotta snap outta dis," he scolded himself.

He dressed in the uncomfortable leather pants he'd been given and walked out. He felt uneasy and exposed because he was never without a shirt back home. He had covered up his scars like he covered up his crime and tried to think about them as little as possible. He paused to let a sleepy eyed Logan pass him by. He saw Wolverine check him out, his exposed scars in particular, and was grateful the man walked by him without saying a word.

Gambit saw Henry sitting up from his bed. Henry smiled at him, but his grin faltered a bit when he saw Remy's scars. It had been a long time since he'd actually seen them and it showed on his face. Remy locked eyes with him, his shoulders in an arrogant slouch, daring Beast to say something.

"You've got a class today," Henry said as a greeting.

"Dat's right. Gonna teach dese losers how ta fight like de great an mighty X-men. Dey gonna be heroes, man. De meilleure qualite', non? De best," he boasted. He went to his bed and picked up a long wooden staff in a leather sheath. Jacob had acquired it for him at Logan's request and Remy used a leather thong to tie it to his back as the Clansmen did their swords.

"Well, at least you seem to be approaching this with the proper attitude. I myself would much rather be home in my lab. When I think of all the work I shall have to start over again..." He sighed. "Oh, well. One does need adventures to grow as a person. However, I thought I was large enough already. Well, you'd better be along. Don't want to be late."

Gambit nodded at him and left. He walked down the rough carved hallways of Clan Station Nine and tried to perk up a little. He had instructed students in self defense back at the Mansion so teaching wasn't new to him at all. He was actually quite good at it, moving the students along with a surprising amount of patience. There was just about a million other things he'd rather be doing instead right now. He found the training room with no difficulty and looked over his class. He'd been given a small group of newbie alphas. They were only about six or seven in number and he didn't recognize any of them from home. That didn't bother him at all. He was something of a social creature when he was away from the X-men's Mansion and had no trouble working with groups of strangers.

"Bonjour, mes amis," he said with a grin, hoping to put them at ease. "Dis 'ere is Gambit. He gonna be teachin' you some of de X-men's best tricks, d'accorde?"

One of the larger alpha males looked him over. "Gambit, huh? I know of you. You're that Cajun thief. I've heard all about you."

Remy groaned inside. He should have known he wouldn't be that lucky. When rumors of his crime first broke, it spread through the mutant community like wildfire and Remy became isolated among his own kind. The only company who really tolerated him now were non-alphas who didn't know what had happened and some of the X-men. Even a million miles and a dimension hop or two away from home and his reputation still preceded him.

Whatever, Remy thought, his emotional defenses falling neatly into place. He just grinned and swept a hand through his hair. "De femmes still talkin' 'bout me? Well, Gambit's got plenty more of dat good lovin' ta go around," he teased, winking at one of the female students.

"I heard you're nuthin' but a low life, thieving piece of murdering trash."

Gambit's grin never faltered, but eyes grew colder. "Dis t'ievin' piece of trash gonna kick your flabby white butt all 'round dis room, you keep runnin' off your mouth like dat."

"Is that a fact?"

"Oui, dat's a fact."

"Peter, don't..." a small white pilot said to the man, holding his arm back.

He looked at her in disgust and gave her a shove. "Somebody's gotta show this scumbag what we do to killers of our own kind."

He lunged at Remy, but the smaller man side stepped him easily. Remy stuck his foot out and Peter took an ungraceful dive, landing on his face in a tangled heap.

Remy clicked his tongue at him in mock disdain. "Tsk. You kinda slow dere, fat boy. Too bad you ain't as fast as yo' mouth."

Peter got up and dusted himself off. He glared at Remy who stood by easy, a cocky look on his face. He decided that he was probably too slow after all and a change of tactics was in order. He raised two orange glowing fists, and fired off two bursts of plasma energy as if his hands were a gun.

Remy dodged the blasts quickly and easily, having faced much more powerful and talented foes than this. "Not much into a fair fight either, Petey boy? Dat's all right, Gambit's got you covered," he said arrogantly, sliding his new bo staff from its sheath.

They went to it and chased each other about the room. Peter was working very hard, huffing and puffing and it wasn't long before it sank in that he'd chosen the wrong boy to pick a fight with. Gambit outpaced him easily, showing off and joking around. It was even more telling that Remy wasn't even trying to use any of his mutant powers, he was doing this all by his hand to hand training and natural fighting ability. Gambit figured this was as good a way as any to give a demonstration of his skills. He also reasoned that the only way to earn any kind of respect was to beat this bully down. He wasn't cruel by nature and didn't let the fight drag out too long. He gave Pete a sharp crack to the back of the head with the staff and tripped him again.

Pete went down hard and lay on his back, panting. Remy approached him with fluid grace, not even winded, and put the butt of the staff against his chest. "Bang! You dead, sucker," he teased with an arrogant grin.

"What's going on here!"

Remy looked up as Valentin came in the room in a huff, Wolverine in tow behind him. Valentin had heard all the racket from Peter's plasma bursts and came in looking for the source of the trouble. He wasn't too surprised to see Remy in the middle of it, Valentin had pegged Gambit as a trouble maker right from the beginning.

"Jus' givin' a little demonstration, boss," Gambit replied smoothly, backing off.

Pete sat up and looked at Wolverine. Logan was a senior X-man and bit more recognizable so Peter pointed at him. "You! You're an X-man! Don't you know who this guy is?!"

"Of course I know," Logan replied evenly.

"You guys came in together! How can you stand there and not take him out! How could you take him in and have him on your team!"

" 'Cause he's saved my life more'n once. He's proved himself ta me and the team," Wolverine replied with complete honesty. "He's a better man than most - in spite of what he may have done in the past. I trust him with my life and so should you."

"My brother was a Morlock!" Peter shouted loudly, spitting with his rage. "He was down there in the tunnels when that scumbag you call your friend led those vicious killers down there! My brother is dead because of him! I won't work with him! I refuse!"

"You owe the Clan a ten year term of service and you will do as you're told!" Valentin ordered, his size and aggressive posture begging no refusals. He didn't know what was going on here, but this wasn't the first time alphas from different factions collided unpleasantly. The best thing was to put it down quickly and get back to business. "We will fight this war and we will fight it together. After that, the two of you can settle up in any manner you like."

Remy took a step back when he heard Peter mention his brother. His face had paled and his shoulders slumped in a submissive posture Logan had come to know all too well. Remy often walked the Mansion this way when he was among some of his more unforgiving teammates. His teasing manner was gone and he kept his eyes down. "Je suis de'sole, homme. I'm sorry about yo' brother. I know it probably won' mean anyt'ing to you now, but I never meant what 'appened. It was a mistake."

"How could you not know? You're nothing but a lying scumbag! How dare you insult me by trying to apologize?!" Peter howled, unable to contain his rage. "You're dead, LeBeau, you hear me! You're so fucking dead!"

Remy just shook his head and walked out at a fast trot, taking his bo staff with him.

Valentin turned to Logan who had watched Remy leave with a strange look of concern on his face. "Is your friend going to give us any more trouble?"

"No."

"See to it that he doesn't. I'll reschedule his training class around those who would rather fight than train. He will still be expected to work here, understand?"

"Yeah, I understand," Wolverine grunted, a little surprised by Valentin's willingness to work around this. He figured Valentin would beat Remy to a pulp and force him to obey. For the first time, Logan was thinking maybe there was more to Valentin than he'd first thought. It wouldn't be the last.