Chapter 22: One Early December Morning

Slung over his motorcycle, Remy pulled a cigarette from behind his ear, where he'd left it earlier for safekeeping.

"Give Remy a light, homme."

Pyro sighed, picking his lighter out of his pocket. Silver, with a shark engraving on it. It'd been his father's. It had quite a story, really. Stole it, just before leaving home. He really didn't like sharing it, but it was Gambit after all. "Lost yours, mate?" He threw his lighter to Remy, who caught it smoothly.

"Remy can say that." He flicked it upon, the flame lighting up. It watched it, a steady stream of yellow, a little blue at the bottom. His lighter, well, Rogue had found it on his bed. It had slipped out of a back pocket.

Her nose wrinkled. "If Ah don't kill ya, Swamp Rat. This might." She gestured to the packet of cigarettes she'd found not far from where the lighter had laid. "Ya ottah stop, ya know... bahd fo' the health. An' Kitty says it gets ya teeth yellow. Ya know the rest."

Remy watched Rogue from behind, lying down on the bed next to her. Her back was bare, and the scar was in plain view, but she didn't seem to mind too much. Her brown hair fell over her shoulders, locks of white curling from the side of her face, framing it perfectly.

She had a slight quizzical look, as if she was listening to something (probably a psyche). She took a cigarette out, looking it over thoughtfully before placing it to her lips. As she was about to light it up, he pulled up to her and snatched it from her mouth, hiding it behind his ear.

"Chere doesn't want to do dat."

She looked up at him angrily. "What do ya know 'bout what Ah want, Cajun." But her glare hadn't lasted long, as she'd scooped up back next to him, his arm circling her waist once more. Her head rested against his heart and she sighed, content.

It was still early in the morning, and the sun was barely coming over the horizon, the room still bathed in shadow. Frost had taken hold of the window's corners, like silver cobwebs. Winter had finally arrived. The garden would be crisp cold, dew had turned to a small pellicle of ice over each leaf, each branch, making it glisten in the early light.

A smile had curled on her face. "Ah'll keep this." She still had the lighter in hand. She seemed carefree while she was with him. Remy had tried to make her talk about the other morning's incident where she had nearly suffocated in her sleep. She'd refused to talk about Mystique.

Of course, he could have used his kinetic powers to light his cigarette, but he didn't feel like it that morning. He didn't know why. Each time he would look down at his hands, he would feel dirty. They had killed willingly, and just lightening it, with those hands, seemed just... absurd. Maybe he was losing his head after all.

He could hardly believe that Rogue... That she was the one that... Only she made him feel like a better man.

"Gambit be going' fo' a spin." Remy tossed the lighter back to the Acolyte, chucking the cigarette away without lighting it up. "Need t' clear Remy's head before he loses his mind." He fished the keys out of his trenchcoat and ignited the engine. The motorcycle gave a gruff sound, before smoothing somewhat.

"Just a question, there mate." St John ran his hand through his flaming hair, blue eyes looking up at his friend in concern. "I know you blokes just think I'm crazy. But, I got the impression you fancy that skunk sheila more than you really want to admit."

Remy cocked an eyebrow. He would think twice about Pyro after this, the guy was more lucid than he seemed.

"So?" St John asked. "Am I right?"

Remy chuckled, leaving his friend rather perplex. The bike gave a roar, before Remy pulled out on the alleyway, disturbing the early silence of the Mansion's grounds. Pyro watched his friend drive away and through the large iron gates that had opened.

"AM I RIGHT?" he yelled at the top of his lungs pulling his hands up in a cone to his mouth, half-laughing. Gambit's lack of response could only mean one thing. When Remy finally disappeared with that black bike of his, St John shivered. He clicked the lighter on, and pulled the flame out, forming a much larger ball of fire. "Hate these northern bloody winters," he muttered before going back inside.

ooooooooooo

The cold December wind whipped his auburn air back, his exposed skin pricking in that morning's chilly air. He missed the warmer and damper air of the bayou. The kind that made your skin shine half with sweat and water.

He sped deliberately through a red light, ignoring the car honks that whipped through the air. The protestations were rapidly left behind (he's already way over speed limits) and out of earshot.

How had it come down to this? He might have been trying to leave his thoughts about the X-men behind, but Rogue clung desperately to his mind. He had the impression it was spiralling out of control.

He glanced ahead to the left, stirring out of the main road. The creamy walls Bayville High flashed past. It was still too early for even class. He hadn't checked the time before leaving. He tried to ignore the strange feeling that was eating away at his thoughts. Had it all started there? He remembered meeting Rogue outside those walls, at a corner, after have scared some boys out of their wits. No, it had started earlier.

Buildings were growing, and he spotted something ahead that made him finally slow down. He drove up onto the pavement had stopped the growling engine with the turn off the key, silencing it. The Bank, or what was left of it stood before him. No, this wasn't the place where everything had started either. Before, much earlier.

Red and white tape had been hung, stopping anyone approaching the Bank too much. The broken windows had been blotted it out with planks of wood. Can sprayed graphs had been drawn on the wall fractured with crevices. Remy could read one that said: "Liberate Mutants you freak Humans." This might have brought a grin to face, but right now he wasn't in the mood for it. A panel had been purposely put on the stairs that led up to the Bank's battered entrance, saying: "No trespassing."

Gambit swung down of his motorbike to the pavement, fishing out sunglasses from his trench coat. The sun was no where to be seen behind the uniform grey clouds, but he had to be careful, his eyes had always been a matter of much distaste. Except for Rogue. She'd claimed, if she even remembered, that his eyes were what she preferred the most about him.

It had started before he had ever met her. That woman had told him... and of course, at the time, he'd dismissed it, maybe even tried to run from it.

Mist played with his breath, coming out of his half-open mouth in the cold air.

He shivered slightly at the memory of his fight with Death. Remy remembered going about his plan, trying to recuperate something that had been owned by one of his close 'aunts'. Back in New Orleans, she'd been just like an aunt, caring. She would spoil him with her food. He would look over her pots and stir them for her. She'd sold it, why, he didn't know. But as present, for everything he owed her, he'd wanted to find it and return it.

But Death had appeared from out of corner. And things had suddenly turned frantic The cold feeling of aging had being forced over his body, his sight deteriorated in a second. He'd had hardly been able to lift his staff against the blows Death had showered over him with his own weapon. . He could still remember the cold floor, the blurry visions, the pain in each and every limb.

Remy shrugged it off. It was finished, hopefully. He still wondered why Death had left him alive. And then, she had appeared out of the dust, over him, her white bangs of hair falling over his face, her green eyes full of worry.

Gambit's gaze slowly crossed the street. On the opposite side of the Bank was a small snack bar, where he had planned out his attack on the bank in the first place. Many unexpected things had come out of it, some bad, other surprisingly good.

He made his way over to it. There was the twinkling of small bells as he opened the window-panelled door, just like last time. He sat at the far end booth, out of view of the usual customers. The place didn't seem to have changed much, the curtains were still filthy, not that it mattered to Gambit much. However, there was something new.

In the far corner had been put up a modest sized television. It was, at that instant, playing the News. Remy watched it as the waitress approached him.

"What will it be?" she asked checking him out. Her eyes twinkled fondly. It didn't escape Gambit, and, unconsciously he compared this woman to Rogue. She had everything except what he loved in Rogue. Spunk, lies she tried to hide, but always failed, a dangerous smirk and that little bit of insanity that he knew too well.

Gambit settled for some black coffee, it seemed to fit his mood, someway.

A baby started crying somewhere in another booth, accompanied with his mother's soothing words. His nerves starting to twitch uncomfortably, Remy reached out with his empathic abilities. The kid was scared. It didn't suit Remy good, and soon soothed things over, wrapping the child in an emotional blanket. The braying soon calmed down to hiccups.

"Convention in SanFransico on Mutant Rights Friday the twentieth of December, this weekend..." an aged TV presenter was declaring on the early news. Gambit's ears picked up on this. "After the disastrous and unsuccessful strategy used for controlling rogue mutants, the summit will deal primly with the raise of budget for the National Security Department..." Gambit clenched his teeth, it had nothing to do with mutant rights, it was all a fake. Their aim was probably more precisely trying to keep any rights mutant could have at bay. Security... against mutants.

He'd been so distracted by the News that he only noticed too late who'd entered the place.

A man, aged in his late twenties with pale skin and dark hair was now approaching Gambit. Remy stiffened, fingering his cards inside his trenchcoat.

Death sat facing Remy.

"Lebeau, hardly a surprise..." his voice was crisp cold with a sharp edge to it. Remy didn't reply. Death's black eyes glinted amusingly from across the table.

It was hardly a coincidence, the last time Gambit had met Death had only been across the street.

"Ya keep gettin' de nack of poppin' up on Remy when ya not wanted," Gambit hissed through clenched teeth.

ooooooo

Psylocke had seen Gambit arrive, then stride away into the snack bar. She wondered if she was meant to feel something for the mutant. Pity? Definitively not. Worry? Never.

Each mutant that had decided to work for Sinister knew there were more consequences than could meet the eye. Sinister made sure that those who searched his services just once, would sign a contract where their freedom would be taken. How had Gambit presumed that he'd escape Sinister? Fleeing with one of the Scientist's pet.

Gambit had been foolish, and yet, Psylocke knew he would fight, by pride but also for a dream he thought maybe, just someway, could come true. Where, why did he try to hang on? By which hope he thought everything would return to normal?

The wind tugged at her purple strands, her hair hiding her vision for just a second. She quickly pulled it back, and looked up at the roofs, where her companion hid from any prying eye.

"Is everything ready?" Psylocke asked through her telepathic connection.

A voice, very similar to Psylocke's own replied across the link: "It's all in place. I'll be seen from miles around."

oooooooo


"You... with Rogue? Did you really think it could work?" Death asked, a cup of tea sat between his bone like fingers on the table. "Why do you cling to her so? You're too young... my friend, things have escaped your notice."

Gambit clenched his teeth so hard he was sure that Death could hear them gritting. The mutant hadn't attacked him yet with his powers... But Remy anticipated the cold chill that would soon tare his back.

The black coffee had been served to Remy, but he hadn't touched it.

"What..."

"What do I want?" Death finished for Gambit, picking the cup up slowly, and taking a small sip of the warm liquid. "Nothing... It's Sinister this is all about, not what I want." He laid his skeleton fingers down against the surface of the wood. "Rogue and Sinister. No... not I."

"Get to de point, Ol' Gambit ain't got de whole day fo' ya disposition," Gambit spat out, venom dripping from every word.

Death looked around, seeming bored with the whole ordeal. "You've made a very, big, mistake, by taking Rogue... or what you think is Rogue."

As on cue, the television flashed the picture of Rogue, then Psylocke, her left eye under her usual red tattoo. "... will be taken to court this afternoon for judgement. Most austere jurists will be expected to vote in favour of the Death Penalty..."

Gambit had thought he'd killed Psylocke in that street, it seemed so long ago now. He'd seen her draw her last breath, and then... he'd found her all over the news, caught by a Sentinel after have destroyed and coldly killed a shopkeeper, if Gambit could remember correctly. If he had just stayed longer, making sure that Psylocke was... dead, maybe things would have turned out differently She just had to be gone, or, peharps...

Gambit looked back at Death. Had he revived the Asian woman?

"No," the mutant said. "It's not my doing... for once."

"Get back to Rogue den," his own voice had turned to frost, while his eyes burned behind the sunglasses. He could feel the air getting warmer at each passing second.

"Ah, yes... the mistake," Death repeated more to himself than to Remy. "Doesn't she seem unusually distant... let's say... different."

Remy wanted to take his staff out right then and now and plunge it into Death's form. Sinister's doings would have changed anyone. He could still remember the image of Rogue's disfigured back, the scar that trailed down it. How it'd felt under his fingers, rough and wrong.

"I must say... I, first, then Sinister were rather surprised the way things turned out. Rogue wasn't meant to live that long." He smiled showing a row of sharp teeth, everything but pleasant. "You see... it was all an experiment, and it's soon coming to an end."

Remy glanced out between the dirty curtains onto the street and his bike that was still stood across. But someone caught his eye.

She was standing sternly, her face void of any expression, her eyes vacant. She stared back at him.

No! It was impossible. His head whirled back around to the television, his gaze then finally settling on Death's unnatural young, paste white face. Gambit had killed her once, in that alleyway, but then, she'd appeared on the News... and now, she was waiting for him outside at this instant.

Remy jumped to his feet, and before anyone could blink, his staff was extended in his hand, Ace of diamonds burning pink the other. His cup of coffee had spilled and rolled off the table, shattering to the floor.

Every head had snapped their heads towards the two mutants; their mouths open in surprise, eyes wide, not daring to move. The card fizzed with energy, the only sound now remaining in the restaurant, crackling and spitting pink flecks.

Death glanced at the single card amusingly. "Lebeau, do you think one of your tricks will get you out of this mess?"

"Not likely, homme..." With a single contact of the card against the curtains, the kinetic energy spread to the fabric making it glow dangerously. However it didn't stop there, flashing tendrils of pink licked the windowpane, twisting to the walls and beyond. "But dis will."

But the customers were still rooted to the spot, immobile like statues. The waitress still had the tray in her hand, meatloaf steaming on a plate, and even the baby, sitting in his mother's arms didn't cry.

Flames were bursting out of the synthetic material of the curtain from the pressure of Gambit's power, an acrid smell filled the place as the dark fumes curled upwards. Death had not moved an inch, however, his sly smile had faded from his ghostly face.

"Run, ya darn fools!" Couldn't they see the danger? However, when Gambit's gaze fell on Death again, he quickly understood what had happened.

"Psylocke is a telepath, not very strong, indeed, but enough to make these animals stay in harm's way. Lebeau, now, you could save your skin, destroy me, all in one go... isn't it tempting? But, would you let these people suffer the consequences?"

From behind the sunglasses, Gambit's eyes blazed like two scorching embers.

"If you prefer, I could kill them instead." he added with distaste. The bartender from behind the counter started withering in pain, his skin crawling, his eyes bulging horribly.

The kinetic energy was slowly pulled back from the walls and curtains, back into the card. And with a slight fizzle, even that light went out, and with it, Remy's hope extinguished.

Death nodded, Remy was inoffensive as much a mutant with deadly powers could be. He sat up. "Follow me, Lebeau."

Remy could hear his heart beat loudly, trying to burst out of his chest. The same heart Rogue had listened to that morning. His head throbbed as he walked past the still customers. He knew he was throwing away his chance at freedom. He could have ended it there, he was sure, make the building crumble on their head, burn everything to ashes, flesh and bones. Was it worth it? He spared a glance at the child; a thumb in his mouth, blue eyes and chubby cheeks, clinging to his mother's top. He had just barely stopped crying.

He couldn't take life away, not like this, not when their only mistake was being at the wrong place, at the wrong moment. And what would Rogue say if he had?

The bells shimmed once more as the door was opened as the two mutants stepped out in the chilly morning air.

People, about their usual business marched on both sides of the streets, cars passing by, heading for somewhere. An old lady, dressed in bright colours walking her white, fluffy dog, a man in suit, a briefcase at the end of his arm... None could have guessed the tragedy that was about to occur, their deaths only a minute away.

"Remy, a pleasure." Psylocke stood just outside, contrasting deeply with all the normal people that walked the street. If it wasn't for the tattoo, it was just by the way she held herself. Stiff. Her hgufihg eyes bored down on him, but they looked, unusually empty.

"Betsy, Remy thought he wouldn't see de day where ya walked the streets again... alive," he added for good measure, but no reaction nor emotion crossed her face.

They slowly walked away from the restaurant, walking the pavement with the other humans. Death, seeming casual at their side. They headed across the street, Remy's staff hidden back in his trenchoat, but the Ace of diamonds still clutched in his hand.

The mutants walked along, without anyone giving them a second glance, as if, a man with sunglasses in winter, an Asian woman with a red tattoo on her face, purple hair falling over her shoulders, and a sickly pale man were the usual assortment. It was probably a trick of Psylocke's telepathy.

However, something was very wrong. Why had they come directly to him, and not Rogue, if it was her they wanted. This didn't make him feel relieved, knowing that they'd preferred to find him first. Death wouldn't have told him if it didn't suit his plans somehow. Rogue was safe, at the Mansion with the rest of the X-men. They would protect her. She was safe...

And if he wasn't able to see her again... He pushed the dark thoughts away.

Remy tried not to look back as they turned the corner. He could feel the deck of cards in sleeve, just waiting to be used, he'd show what pain meant ... However, Death stopped in his tracts, and searched for something in his overcoat. He slowly produced a small black box from its folds, a finger pressed against a red button. It clicked harmlessly.

Gambit's eyes widened in horror.

"NO!" his words were covered by the sudden eruption on noise and flame. The street they'd just left exploded with a fire, the building crumbled like a tower of cards, the explosion taking it down effortless. Every window shattered under the force, raining down over the street. Vehicles and people alike were picked up from the ground, pulled apart like rag dolls. The luckiest had fallen to the ground, covering their heads in protection. Car breaks screeched, tires smoking against the tarmac.

"What is it you usually say, Lebeau?" Death smiled, facing Gambit. "Luck doesn't last."

Remy breathed hard, winded, the side card seeming sharper against the flesh of his palm. The smell of burning filled his nostrils. It was all too real. The cold was gone, replaced by boiling rage. "Remy says ya all get to go to Hell."

3667 words for an Update! I've made it! I've finally updated! Few... Now, I can't even count the number of versions of this one had, but... I've updated! After writer's block after writer's block, I have finally found how all these chapters could finally make sense (do they usually make sense? They might start now) For, I think, one day, I'll be able to put down the words: 'The End.' Yes, after 21 chapters of going one way and another, without really knowing where I was heading, I know how this story can reach it's conclusion.

While we wait until that time (it's no where soon), I'll answer some wonderful reviews that motivated me on, stopping me from just leaving the story like this for ever (I re-read the old chapters, and kept wincing here and there. It'll need some cleansing! But that can wait.)

Sarah Crysala: Sorry again... but after a couple months of absence, I'm back on track. ;)

AngstWolf: Rogue might becoming dark, and I'm not even sure if it's a happy ending, well, Rogue and Remy, will survive, for sure, and I just can't see myself kill Kitty, Kurt or Wolverine. Rogue is going to be real angry in a couple of chapters.

Ankle: like the complexity of dual Remy? Well, wait and see Rogue's rather big problem! Oh boy, she's gonna suffer (I feel mean).

T: there might be "more" Mystique (kind of hint I suppose) not that what I say usually has sense. I cut from Mystique to Remy (I was missing him). But I'll come back to her, very soon.

Plague: that's the whole problem, Remy "seems" to have REAL feelings for Rogue, but he's using her for something too, which I can't tell you yet. (So basically, I'm not much help. It's coming soon.)

Ishandahalf: Update! UPDATE! I made it! Finally got over the writer's block (summer holidays really do some good)

And many thanks to Gothic Cajun and Spectra 2 too. Boy, I just loooove reviews! You keep them coming, and the chapter are just going to pop up sooner than you expect.