(Nine)

Remy walked into the Med Bay bathroom at the Mansion in Westchester and stood looking at himself in the mirror, dazed. Henry had sent the X-jet down to pick them all up and Logan as well. The Canadian had survived Zander's temper tantrum, but would be out of commission for long time. The SHIELD medics had wrapped up what was left of him, amazed he was even still breathing. They didn't dare give him any pain killers or sedatives for fear his heart would stop. They had landed here only just a few minutes ago and Henry insisted on everyone getting checked out before being released.

Gambit had taken one good look at the mangled remains of his teammate and fled in here, not sure if he would heave. He had pretty much pulled it together until he had seen Logan and had that nightmare refreshed in his mind. There was no way Logan could still be alive and yet Henry had snapped into action, fussing over him just as much as the SHIELD medics, as if there was never any doubt it could be so.

Remy saw his face in the mirror and didn't like what he saw. His eyes were swollen and rimmed in bruises. He still hadn't properly recovered from his drinking binge and the stress from the last few hours had taken its toll. He was covered in blood, leftovers from the bank after Wolverine had been shot or from Seamus, he wasn't really sure anymore.

He came to life and numbly removed his long leather coat, going to the sink and feebly trying to wash the blood from it. His hands were shaking badly and a lit cigarette dangled from his lips. Fuck Henry's admonition against smoking, he'd never seen anyone shot as badly as Logan had been and was starting to wig out. He knew the guy could heal...but this? Whole chunks of him had been missing.

"You all right?"

Remy looked up as the Professor came in to look him over. He smiled at the crippled man, but his eyes betrayed him.

"Logan will be fine. He's resting comfortably now," the Professor said, quick to reassure.

"What it take ta kill dat boy, neh? Seen 'im crisp fried, now half of 'im gone. Jesus!"

"Yes, well. It's a shame the rest of us aren't so lucky. How was Kimble?"

Gambit turned his head away. " 'E all shattered, boss, just like Anya say. 'E don' even know who 'e is no more. 'Ell, I'm not sure I even know," he finished vaguely, still not quite believing that thing with the sword. He'd been the only one of the X-men to see it, he couldn't hope to explain it and so said nothing about it to anyone. Maybe it really hadn't happened.

"We'll get him back, I promise you."

"I t'ink we seen dat comin' in all loud and guns blazin' ain't de way to bring 'im home. Dat's Logan's way. Now it gonna be Gambit's way. Gambit's gonna steal 'im back all sneaky like," Remy said, the conviction strong in his voice. He was trembling badly now and not doing so well with his coat anymore.

"I'm sure you will, it's what you do best," Charles said, realizing that Gambit's calm was a crumpling mask. The boy was hysterical but trying not to let it show.

"Dat's right. Gambit's gonna find 'im, gonna steal 'im back an' never let 'im outta my sight again," Remy replied and then kept repeating it like a mantra, the tears finally breaking free and running down his face.

"We'll help you," Charles said, coming closer and steadying Remy's hands. "Just relax. We'll do this together, one step at a time." He sent out gentle thoughts and watched in surprise as Remy flinched away from him.

Gambit hadn't reacted to the thoughts, it was the vibrations that had come with them. He was teetering badly here and hadn't been ready for it. He knew the Professor was trying to comfort him and hadn't wanted to react like that, but his nerves were too raw. "S-sorry," he stammered lamely. "Jus' a little tired."

"Remy...This may not seem like the time, but I want to ask you something," the Professor said, taking hold of one of Gambit's slender wrists. "Rogue mentioned something about Kimble...that you said he changed you."

"She say many t'ings, not all of dem so true," Remy snapped bitterly, silently cursing her for telling his secrets.

"Remy, please. I'm not trying to argue with you, I'm trying to help you. If Kimble has affected you, made you more...empathic...than you may have been before, I'd like to help you deal with it. The first step is admitting that maybe you've got a problem."

Like Logan in the Baltimore restaurant, Charles was aware that there was something not quite right with his thief. Gambit wasn't bouncing back from all of these emotional shocks with is usual grace and ease. He needed some help and guidance.

"Je suis bien... I'm okay," Gambit said with a sigh. He took a deep hit off of his cigarette and relaxed, turning his head away to keep the smoke from his boss. "It's jus' dat I ain't figured it all out yet. I-I need some time..dat's all."

Charles gave his wrist a squeeze. "I just want you to know that you're not alone. There are ways to block it out. I know you can do it, you've done a fine job with every telepath in the place, but empathy can be different. Emotions run high here, you're stressing out. Running away and drinking until you vomit isn't going to help you. Patience will. Patience and letting others help you."

Remy closed his eyes and shivered, feeling the vibration of loving concern come at him again. "D'accorde, patron. Okay. Gambit won' run. He stay awhile longer, mebbe work dis out, neh?"

Charles smiled. "Good. Now stop bothering with that jacket, it's ruined. Have a hot shower and get some sleep. I want Henry to give you something to help you sleep, no whiskey tonight."

"Yes, dad," Gambit said with genuine affection.

"And put out that cigarette."

"Yes, dad," Gambit repeated, laughing softly, and obediently crushed it out. He watched as the Professor rolled out and started talking to Henry, glancing in his direction. Remy could see he wasn't going to get out of whatever they had planned for him and wasn't sure he wanted to. He needed to sleep. He needed to feel alive again. He needed to find Kimble.

He cleaned up and dressed in some sweats Henry had around. He staggered over to a bed and let Henry inject him. He lay down and after a few minutes felt the most pleasant buzz wrap around his brain. His eyes were almost closed when he saw a slender white figure come into view. He felt Seth take his hand and whisper gently in his ear. "I'm glad you're home."

"Sorry 'bout yo' brother, mon petit fils," he replied in a hoarse whisper.

"You tried. It didn't work out," the pilot replied softly, forgiving him.

Gambit was fully relaxed and felt the vibration of love that came from Seth. That and the hero worship. It was startling in its intensity and he could have done without it. He didn't deserve it. All he had done was let Kimble down.

"We'll find him together, you and me," Seth said. "I've already started tracking this Sabretooth guy down. I'll find him and you'll go get him."

"Dat's a promise," Remy said, his eyes no longer staying open.

"I'll talk to you about it tomorrow. Sleep."

Gambit garbled something unintelligible in French and slipped away. Seth stayed as he was, listening to the thief's soft breathing. What he had said was true. He had already set up a trap, a net for Creed. If he did anything electronically, Seth would find him. He would find that bastard and send this shining knight out to kill him. It was the only thing that would satisfy. He finally withdrew as silently as he had come and closed the curtain around the bed.