(Thirteen)
Kimble went up the stairs but lingered at the trap door opening as the rest gathered in the galley again. He could hear Fallen crying and Seth trying uselessly to soothe her. Kimble wanted so much to go back, but respected his brother's wishes. He crouched down at the top step of the trap door, hooking his toe claws over the edge. He looked down the steps and waited, hoping that when Fallen came back up he would have something in mind to say to make her feel better. He couldn't bear the thought of her pain.
Gambit was still on guard duty and was now stretched out comfortably across the first row of passenger seats. The arm rests flipped up, allowing him to lay across them like a bed. He was quite tall and his feet stuck out into the walkway, but he didn't mind. He was Gambit and Gambit was comfortable anywhere. He'd watched the small crowd come up and noted Fallen's absence. The others had all shuffled into the galley except for Kimble. Remy kept his watchful eyes on Kimble as he crouched at the door, his face full of woe.
Gambit inspected this Siskan hologram with rapt curiosity. There was a variety of expressions clear on Kimble's face — pain, sorrow, jealousy and pain. Gambit had the reputation of being a heartless conman, but that didn't mean he wasn't sympathetic to the emotions of others. On the contrary, he had always been compassionate to the pain and suffering of the people around him. It was what made it easy for him to read people and know the right thing to say to get what he wanted, to charm them, if you will. It didn't keep him from feeling their pain, he'd had to learn to shut off his emotions to escape the pounding guilt that came on him at times. There were moments when he'd considered the possibility that he might be a low level empath, a mutant who read not thoughts, but the emotions of others. If this was so, he'd never been diagnosed as such and so hadn't declared it to anyone.
He had lost some of that empathy – if that's what it was - when he had been told to leave New Orleans and the Thieves' Guild, in those dark years he'd spent on his own. Those were the worst of times for him, when he'd made the worst of his life's mistakes. He had to shut off much of that sensitivity or he would have given in to temptation more than just that one time and just ripped his wrists to shreds, bleeding his guilt and suffering out of him until he was dead. Long before Antarctica, he'd been close to suicide many times, another symptom of someone with deep caring and understanding of misery and angst. Some of that empathy was coming back to him now that he was back with the X-men full time and he was trying to deal with it the best he could. Professor Xavier had been very instrumental in keeping him sane, counseling him and giving him advice on how to manage his guilt. Gambit was sympathetic and painfully aware that Kimble was suffering now.
What amazed him was that this hologram, this walking, talking computer program should display such powerful emotions at all. If he was so fake, so programmed, why did he appear as though he might cry at any moment? Was it real, or was it because he was out in the open with so many people around him? He certainly had an audience here and all the reasons in the world to manipulate them, Kimble needed them sympathetic enough to his cause so they wouldn't just pound him to a pulp and take over.
But when Gambit saw Kimble put his head down and noted the dismal, soft little sigh that left him, he had serious doubts Kimble was faking this. His instincts told him the pilot wasn't doing this just to get attention. Those instincts had served Remy far too well for him to doubt them now. Maybe it was all the time they had spent dancing, but he had an idea that Kimble was a lot more complicated than the others here gave him credit for, Fallen included.
One of the things Remy had been especially good at back home was talking down a troubled mutant in a crisis situation, especially the younger ones. There had been some teasing that Remy could relate to them simply because he hadn't grown up himself, but it wasn't true. It was more that Gambit saved his judgements for later, getting to know a person first before he condemned them outright. That reservation had played out well back home and he used it now to speak to this poor, troubled hologram.
"What's goin' on dere, buddy?" he asked Kimble quietly.
"I'm stuck out here. Seth's trapped in the system. Fallen ain't doin' so good with it," Kimble replied sadly. He glanced up as Valentin came to the barracks door, but turned his head down so the big man wouldn't see how upset he was.
"I can fix her up nice," Valentin replied arrogantly with a laugh. "Just send her in here."
"She don't love you," Kimble said without looking up.
Wolverine came to the galley door, expecting trouble. Henry stood behind him.
"What does that have to do with anything? She's my wife."
"When yer heart is broke, it means evrathin'. She needs real love, not the kind that comes from yer fists, neither. Real love is sumpthin' you kin feel an' taste. It kin fix evrathin'," Kimble said with conviction, seeming to speak from experience.
Valentin snorted disdainfully. "What would you know of love and broken hearts, creature?"
Kimble turned his head to look at Valentin. His eyes were flinty and cold. "What do ya love, Vally, huh? What do ya love 'sides that great big sword of yers?"
Valentin considered his answer. "Hmm... I love a nice big steak grilled on the fire. I love a bottle of fine Kyrule whiskey just opened. But what do I love most of all? Heh, Fallen's nice hot mouth going down on me, slow and easy..."
Kimble clenched his fists and gritted his teeth, but didn't move, not just yet.
Remy eased one foot down to the floor and slid his deck of cards out, pretending to shuffle them from boredom. He could sense the rising tension in the room and saw Kimble's jaw working. He didn't like the smouldering rage brewing behind Kimble's eyes and remembered how quick Kimble was to fight with Valentin before. He knew Kimble was hopelessly outclassed even if the holographic pilot did not.
"But what I'm gonna love best, son..." Valentin continued, "...is the sound of your neck snapping when I crush you down with my bare hands."
Kimble laughed suddenly and rubbed his hands together. "Yeah, that'd be fine, I guess - if I had any bones, that is. Gonna hafta do better'n that ta take me down, you cocksucking son of a whore," he finished, the dangerous, deep growly edge coming back into his voice.
Valentin's mouth split wide in an evil sneer. "My, my. What a mouth you got on you, boy. Still, I doubt taking you down will be a problem for me. I suspect you'll bleed quick enough. I've always been a sword man, myself. You ever feel the edge of a blade, son?"
Kimble froze. He hadn't been prepared for Valentin's question or the flash of a memory that came unbidden. Swords and death. Death and swords. Blood, ice cold and frosting the edge of a broadsword as it pulled out of his guts. He shivered noticeably and Valentin laughed again.
"Guess that answers that question - Zander."
"My name's Kimble, ya ignorant fuck. Best git that straight. As to yer question, I ain't never felt it, but I seen it plenty. I seen you cut Kane down like he was nuthin'. You ain't gonna catch me like that, Vally, no Sir. Yer gonna find out there's a lot more ta me than any a yous kin see," Kimble boasted, trying to sound tougher than he felt. Kimble wasn't sure what exactly he'd seen or felt in the past so, as far as he was concerned, he hadn't been lying...not entirely.
"I'm sure," Valentin agreed. "I'll be seeing it as I split you open wide. It's gonna spill out right over those stupid furry feet of yours. Gonna laugh my ass right off, too, watching you die."
Kimble stood up, his hands fisted once more. He moved towards Valentin with unveiled hostile intent, his mouth twisted in an angry sneer.
Logan cleared his throat. "Ladies."
Kimble ignored him, but stopped his advance when Gambit suddenly stood up in front of him. Remy shuffled his cards, his blood red eyes glittering. "Stop right dere, s'il vous plait. Dis trash ain't wort' it, mon ami."
Kimble growled deep in his throat and took another step.
Gambit charged two cards and held them up defensively. "Ain't gonna hap -" He stopped in midsentence with a curious smile.
Kimble's widened eyes had locked on the red glowing cards and he was struck dumb with wonder, like a deer caught in a truck's headlights. Kimble loved red. It was his most favorite color because it was bright and reminded him of heat which he loved best of all. His inner core was very cold so anything warm felt amazingly wonderful to him. It was the primary reason he loved to be touched and held and why the Ristle felt so good. The cards sizzled a little from the energy Gambit had charged them with and Kimble could smell them burning. He raised a trembling hand towards the cards, he wanted to touch them and feel their heat blasting into him. It never occurred to him that he could be burned. The red glow simply drew him in and he couldn't resist.
Unfortunately, Valentin wasn't quite done yet.
"Hey, you. Little faggot boy. Why don't you show these fine X-men what a big brave man you think you are? One minute with me will show the truth of you. You'll be begging me for mercy, snot dripping from your nose."
Kimble tore his eyes away from Remy's cards. His anger returned and he desperately wanted to rise to Valentin's challenge, but he knew Valentin was right. He couldn't even come close to backing up his own threats. He had no choice but to back down. He was going to lose face badly here.
He was rescued by Fallen coming up the stairs. She had tried to give Seth as much comfort as she could and now had to get back to the business of getting herself back in order. She was exhausted and only wanted to sleep some more. She came up the steps and paused when she saw Gambit with his cards lit and Valentin leaning arrogantly in his doorway. She knew immediately what was happening.
"Kimble, please. I must speak with you," she ordered sternly, wanting only to get him away. "Come with me." She went back towards the cage and Kimble obediently followed, hiding his relief.
Valentin watched them go with a sneer and gave a nasty chuckle, satisfied he'd put Kimble in his place. He withdrew and just like that, the confrontation was over.