Disclaimer: I do not own Gambit, the X-Men or any related references to said universe. Marvel owns them.
Gambit wiped his hand across his forehead smearing sweat and dirt. With the overzealous Scott still reworking the systems Remy had been assigned the ever so fun task of rearranging the shed. A wreck of a place if he had ever saw one. It was one of the great mysteries in life that despite how many times the place had been leveled or invaded there was still enough stuff to pack the shed which was actually big enough to be a second garage. An even greater mystery was that every time he took a break, the boxes seemed to multiply behind his back. Maybe it was time to call Ripley's.
Having snagged a water bottle from the refrigerator Gambit held it up to his forehead letting the condensation soothe him. If he was going to be sequestered in the horrible shed for the remainder of the day he definitely needed this break. He had nothing against working, but how was he supposed to work alone for hours against apparently mutating boxes with an eerie rapidity of growth? Three hours was more than enough, even if the mess in the shed didn't even look as though he'd sneezed at it.
Gambit kicked back his chair to two legs and peered at the ceiling aimlessly. More often than not he found himself gravitating to the kitchen. Surprisingly enough, not just for the food. The kitchen, despite it's proliferation of trendy kitchenware, was one of the few rooms in the X-Men abode that didn't feel like a mansion or a mutant terrorist headquarters. Remy wasn't a all-out advocate for the Rockwell version of normalcy, but even he had to admit the chipper yellow walls and the sun streaming in through the windows gave it a homey feel. A feel, he was saddened to admit, he did miss. His Tante Mattie's kitchen had a similar, bright-enough-to-be-annoying yellow, themed kitchen. The only thing that was missing was the smell of Gumbo.
A thump of a palm striking the wood of the outer door alerted him to Jean's arrival. He tilted his head in greeting and she gave a stiff nod back bee-lining for the coffee pot. Remy gave her only cursory attention until he realized she was lingering excessively. Gambit turned in his chair and examined the room, yep they were the only two inhabitants. Jean was carefully working herself up to something, and he had a feeling it might not be good for him.
Dodging around the kitchen Jean ever so slowly putting away the coffee maker, cleaning up every last crumb of spilled Folgers from the heavy marble tabletops. For a woman who spent so much time learning the nuances of the mental landscape, she often missed the physical cues that Gambit made into an art form. Jean had always been a bit of a nervous cleaner and her hurried actions were basically a shout of her mood. The woman was gearing up for a speech.
Other than a small, quickly smoothed over fight with Rogue yesterday Gambit had no idea why Jean would be initiating a conversation with him. It had all the earmarks of it, their talk would not be the easy chatter that went on throughout the mansion, but a 'conversation.' With learning and growth, Gambit thought scoffing to himself. Well with Wolverine having skipped town she was down one pet project, he thought.
"Gambit?"
"Oui Jean?" he replied courteously, taking in her braced set of shoulders under a pink cardigan that did nothing so ever for her frame. She wore it constantly though, maybe Scott had given it to her, he was the only one color-blind enough to buy it.
"Do you have a moment?"
"For y' chere, anything."
"Well I don't think I have to tell you that I heard your fight with Rogue last night," she said calm eyes accessing.
"De whole house probably did, dat femmes got a voice dat could shake down timber. We wake y'?"
"No, yes, but that's not the point. I don't think I have to tell you that you and Rogue have had increasingly tense moments. I'm not sure how to broach this delicately…but, have you considered taking some time for yourself? Let things simmer down? It has helped Scott and I on a few occasions."
"No offense Jean, but y' break was y' bein' dead an' Cyclops gettin' re-married. I be de first one to say I ain't had de best luck wit' relationships, but I know Rogue. It's gotta be equal tension on de line or it'll snap. Rogue's worth too much to me to jus' let her go wit'out a fight."
Jean's eyes narrowed digesting his callous comment about her invasion by the Phoenix, "Is that what she is to you? A prize to claim, and a dangerous one at that?"
"Jus' cuz y' huffy without Logan fawning all over y', doesn' mean dat y' can play doctor with me cherie. Y' want to talk psycho-babble? Henri went out for de day, try his cell."
"Whether you want to listen to me or not Gambit I am a qualified psychotherapist and part of my position on the team is making sure everyone is mentally sound. Continuous tension in any form is not healthy for the body or the mind," she said leaning heavily on the countertop.
"Is dat what y' t'ink, I be unstable? Because I be one of de few people who realize how special she is, an' I work at my relationship?"
"Do you want to know what I think?" she challenged setting down her coffee cup with a slight clang.
"Go ahead Jean, ain't no one 'round to hear y' break de nice girl façade."
"You like her because she's safe, she'll never ask you to go that extra step because she can never make herself take that first one."
"Dangerous or safe Jeannie, bit o' a contradiction non? Y' bluffin', shootin' in de dark, but Gambit a much better poker player den y' chere."
"I don't think I'm wrong," she said a bit smugly, "You want the contradiction, because you can't figure yourself out either. You'll spend all your time trying to fix Rogue when you should really be working on yourself. You're a part of Rogue through your relationship, as much as she's a part of you. But even if you could magically fix Rogue, you'd still be a mess, repairing one seam doesn't fix the whole cloth. Life doesn't work that way," she warned.
Gambit spared a moment to wonder exactly how much of his discussion with Rogue the redhead had actually heard. Not enough for specifics apparently, but enough to make him wary. Remy eased back farther in his chair as Jean made motions of reaching a final statement.
"My advice," she said sagely, "deal with your own problems before diving headlong into Rogue's."
"T'anks for de impromptu session chere," Gambit said abruptly, "but y' wrong 'bout Rogue. De femme's got more courage den y'll ever know. Y' get m' check in de mail non?"
Jean watched him go with no small measure of unease. Whether he admitted it or not he and Rogue were due for another crash and burn. She did not normally interfere in personal matters between the X-Men, but Rogue almost vibrated with her nervousness. With a little less ethics she could know for herself, but crossing that line was one she wasn't prepared to do. She could monitor the situation, but that would be all. Gambit was making a play and a dangerous one.
In high spirits Bobby near skipped down the steps and made his way through the house. The last few days hadn't been that great, but what entertainment factor was there in brooding all the time? He'd leave that apparently savory activity to those better suited for it like Wolverine or Gambit. One of which had yet to return, and the other, well Bobby wouldn't be crying if he came up missing too. It was about time for another annual trip to New Orleans wasn't it?
Iceman passed what had served as a rec room in his younger years, and was now a more adult-like den. The appearance of a zombified Rogue in the corner of his eye gave him a cause for an about face. She sat on couch in blue jeans and a navy blue t-shirt, hair up in a pony-tail and completely zoned out. Rogue didn't even notice his entrance into the room.
Bobby plopped himself heavily into a plush armchair bouncing a little for good measure.
"Hiya Rogue, watcha doin'?" Bobby called out inquisitively.
"Bobby, give a girl a little warning why doncha," Rogue said, sparkling eyes betraying her startlement, her body otherwise not giving as much of a twitch in response to his arrival.
"So…"
"So?"
"So, what are you doing," Bobby repeated slowly.
Rogue gave a look that she reserved for those ever so special people whose brains were permanently off-line. She held up the remote and waved it in the general direction of the television set.
"You're not watching TV," Bobby said with a slight guffaw.
"I think I know what I'm doing," Rogue returned her accent giving her words a soft cadence.
"Really, so you enjoy the surgery channel?" Bobby asked.
"Uh...no," the skunk-striped mutant said giving the television a slightly grossed out look as something was removed from a chest cavity. "I guess I was just thinking."
"About?" the iciest X-Men prompted when Rogue hesitated.
"Nothing."
"Alright, well while you're thinking about nothing, do you want to go out and grab a bite to eat for lunch?" Bobby asked with a little boy pout that any guy over twenty has mastered.
"I would Bobby, really. But I'm actually late, there's somewhere I gotta be," Rogue rambled as she pushed herself out of her comfortable position on the couch and edged out the door.
Bobby could still clearly sense her anxiety. Bluffing with mutant megalomaniacs was no sweat to her, but Rogue wasn't near as good when it came to skirting the truth around her friends. Of course she could always take lessons from her boyfriend.
"I hate to sound all Xavier on you Rogue, but you can talk to me. If you need to," Bobby said earnestly.
"Thanks Bobby, I appreciate it," Rogue said practically diving down the hall.
Flying low over Breakstone Lake it didn't take much to spot Gambit's leanly muscled form laid out on the dock. Worn olive pants rolled up he was contentedly swishing his lower legs in the water, probably scaring the crap out of all the fish, Rogue thought.
Hoping he wasn't planning a Helen Keller moment for her Rogue touched down nervously on the side of the lake opposite the mansion. As hiding places went it wasn't ideal, but it had privacy from the mansion's cameras and no one would question their presence.
Gambit twisted his side to shoot Rogue a ready smile and she immediately felt her palms warm up, her gloves already removed in flight. At least one barrier she'd been able to take care of by herself.
"So," replied Rogue shakily watching Gambit carefully as he climbed to his feet, "This is it."
"Y' sure y' ready for dis Rogue?" he forced himself to ask. Now would be the perfect time for her to either run back to the mansion, or prove her bit of her courage that he had vaunted to Jean.
"Don't ask me that Remy, ya might not want ta here the answer," Rogue joked suddenly very nervous as she took a seat on the sun-warmed boards. "When do ya want to start?" she asked almost fearing the answer.
"Rogue," said Remy reading her distress, "We both know dis ain't gonna be a quick fix an' I don' expect y' to suddenly start using y' powers when y' nervous by just havin' de gloves off."
"Well doncha think I have reason ta be nervous," she railed back. "So we're not working on my powers today?" she clarified.
"We are, jus' not yet," he said claiming a seat beside her, the fringe of his cut off black shirt catching the chilled wind coming from the lake.
"Well that clears everythang up," the female southerner drawled purposefully drowning her words in an exaggerated version of her native accent. Gambit's smile grew wider,
"Y' gotta know dat it's okay to have de gloves off sometimes. Nothin's gonna run out and attack y'. Jus' get used to what it be like to enjoy de little t'ings again wit'out somebody breathin' down y' neck. De grass, de dirt, de boards," he said running his hands down the rough wood of the docks, yanking his hand back when he got a splinter.
"You were saying?" Rogue mocked.
"Splinter's don' count as attacks," he returned trying to push the splinter out with the blunt tip of his fingernail.
"Lemme see," Rogue said when he failed to get anywhere.
"It ain't a big deal chere," Remy said as he finally stopped fiddling with it.
"You've been playing with it for the last five minutes, just fork it over," she said rolling her eyes under her skunk striped mane.
A touch theatrically Gambit held out his palm for her inspection. It wasn't all the way under the skin, but his palm was reddened slightly from his toying with the tip of the splinter.
"I swear Cajun I can't take ya anywhere without ya getting hurt," Rogue said eyeing the still healing injury on his arm.
"What ever are y' gonna do wit' me?" Gambit joked reclaiming his palm.
"I can think of a few closets I wouldn't mind sticking ya into," Rogue said.
Remy dropped his jaw, "Y' wouldn'?"
"Ya give?" she asked arching an eyebrow.
"F' now," he replied scarlet and onyx eyes flashing mischievously setting his back against one of the wooden posts opposite Rogue, dropping his legs back into the cool summer water, looking more boyish than he had a right too given the amount of stubble on his face.
He glanced back at Rogue and offered her a challenging smile. Mouth down-turned she yanked off her own tennis shoes and socks, pushed up her jeans and immersed her legs. She frowned a bit harder when she noticed she hadn't rolled her pant legs up quite far enough and the green lake water seeped up the seams of her pants.
Gambit lay back down on the dock, and she again repeated his gesture so their heads were side by side.
"And this helps how?" Rogue asked under her breath. Gambit with his close proximity had no trouble picking up the whisper.
"Would y' have don' dis before?" he asked her curiously.
"What lay out on the dock? Sure I've done it," she replied in a bored tone letting her eyes travel lazily across the sky.
"But did y' do it cuz y' were in a fit an' y' wanted to shock everybody running 'round in short-shorts or did y' do it cuz it was relaxing and because it felt natural to do it?"
The waves lapping against the dock held up Rogue's side of the conversation as she contemplated her answer, "Both I guess, I think I have the right ta do it, but yah, partly because I felt trapped," she admitted with rare self-introspection.
She didn't like to analyze herself, actions or opinions, because she always wondered…worried that if she looked too far into them she would find that she had nothing to do with them. That Rogue hadn't made that decision, that she had been influenced by someone she had absorbed over the years.
Over time she had learned to box the voices away so she could stay sane, but if she found out that it hadn't worked, that the voices influences had crept into her thoughts without her knowledge, that might be something from which she could never recover. Indeed it was her best mental effort, and if she had failed, where would she go next?
"Rogue?" Gambit asked hesitatingly, rolling over on his side to face her, auburn bangs trailing over his forehead, "Not t' kick a gift horse in de mouth or anyt'ing…but y' bein' unusually cooperative."
"Don't worry, I plan ta have a full blown out freaking session later."
"Oh, dat's…nice?"
"We all gotta grow up sometimes right?" she asked shakily.
"Rogue if y'…"
"No, don't offer me an out, I'm afraid I might take it. I want this to happen. And I want us to be able to happen," she said honestly.
"As long as we're both doin' dis for de right reasons. Dis ain't bout us, least ways not right off."
"I know. But I want ta be able ta trust ya. And I want ya ta be able ta trust me."
"Even if…" Gambit began, expressing his own doubt in their mutual ability to trust.
"What ya said was true, I usually expect ya ta come forward first. I'm trying this time Remy, God I'm trying."
Rogue's words echoed in her own mind and she sat up abruptly. She was trying, but it wasn't enough by a mile. If they continued at a pace like this she'd never make any progress. Being treated with kid gloves had never gotten her anywhere.
"I appreciate the slow and steady approach Gambit," Rogue said. "But do you have any idea how much it took to get me here? I'm not running away this time, not with my words or anything else. We have to do this, now," she finished breathlessly.
"Chere?" he questioned startled. Rogue wasn't known for her patience, but he'd been sure she'd drag her feet. Instead, she brought forth all the strength and vigor she usually reserved for the battlefield.
"It's been too many years with my powers out of control. I want ta do this. But so help me LeBeau, if ya burn me on this," she said face flushed, her threat hanging in the air.
"I won' let y' down, I swear," Gambit said his voice carefully modulated, hoping he'd be able to keep his promise.
Gambit and Rogue carefully rearranged themselves on the planks of the dock, sitting cross-legged from each other. Rogue examined the man she was entrusting with her powers, and in a few minutes, her mind. He sat passively as if afraid to frighten her off.
Rogue zeroed in on his left arm and her own right hand reached out jerkily, almost of its own volition. Rogue looked up alarmed but whatever thoughts traveled through Remy's mind remained secret, his face a blank mask. He had one of the best poker faces this side of Texas, he could be screaming in terror in his mind and she'd never know.
She knew she should be focusing on her power, deciding what she really wanted to receive from the absorption...but she couldn't. The moment simply overwhelmed her senses. The birds, the wind, the waves, they'd all ceased to exist. Her hand and a target, that was it. And then, contact.
Rogue's fingers twitched as she felt her power connect, the faint warmth of flesh on her fingertips. She could almost see her mind hook Gambit's to hers. She tried to imitate Gambit's stillness and pulled her hand away as calmly as she could. All of the sudden the world snapped back into place. Gambit was listing slightly, leaning forward heavily braced on one arm. His gaze was muddled and his breath shuddering in and out. He slowly slipped unconscious and collapsed his chin smacking the boards.
Foreign memories bubbled up quickly and Rogue lost herself to them.
A woman in braids, impossibly tall as she laughed and scolded in the same breath.
The scent of a spice unknown to her.
A cobblestone street and a woman with bright purple eyes smiling seductively.
A bottle of some strange liquid falling and breaking.
Pain bolting through her skull…
"Rogue Report," a stern voice cut through the memories. Cyclops. Her communicator. Her's. Rogue's.
Rogue came back to herself with a bang as if she'd slammed back into her body. She had no idea how long she'd been in her fugue, but long enough for Gambit to recover, his pale and worried expression the first thing she saw.
"Chere, y' might not wanna answer dat," Gambit advised a light-headed feeling coursing through his blood as he tried to pull his thoughts back together. It wasn't the first time someone had played hackey-sack with his mind, but it was the first that he'd volunteered for it.
"Why not? I t'ink I can handle de phone," Rogue said, the realization of her mangled accent slow in coming. Just one of the 'gifts' from their short contact. A tingling in her palms drew her attention, but the intense glow she associated with Remy's powers simply wasn't there. A random pink spark seemed to leap off her hands every few seconds and evaporate without a sound.
"Rogue, are you there?" an aggravated voice called out again.
Gambit nabbed the offending device, knowing any further delay would send the understandably paranoid X-Men into a tizzy. The quicker he could get rid of Scott, the quicker he could get back to Rogue, and whatever it was she'd unearthed from his mind.
"Gambit here," he replied a trifle unsteadily keeping an eye on the sparkler action that Rogue had acquired.
"Gambit? Why do you have Rogue's comm.?"
"She let me borrow it," Gambit improvised, "the battery on mine be dead again."
"It's solar powered."
"Okay, maybe I lost it. Look Cyke I gotta go," Gambit said turning off the device abruptly. It'd piss the guy off but it would keep him from running up to interfere.
"Gambit?"
"Rogue?"
"Are y' alright?" she asked, internally begging her mind to stop its tilt-a-whirl.
"Thought dats what I should be askin' y'," Remy said witnessing the eerie combination of his self and Rogue reflected in eyes that could no longer be categorized as green.
"I be, I'm good," she said eyes blinking rapidly. The after-affects of her absorption certainly weren't unfamiliar to her, even if every one of them were tailored to the individual she'd absorbed. What she'd gotten from Remy was strange. There was no great revelation, just bits and pieces of memories that she hadn't had time to sort out. At least in this case she'd neither gone on a rampage nor blown up everything in sight.
"I don' know what this is," Rogue said relaxing as her natural accent regained its hold and her mind cleared, "but I think it's a good start."
"We practice more, we figure it out," Gambit said tiredly, his back leaning against a dock post.
"Ya want ta do this again?" Rogue asked incredulously. Despite what he'd said, she had doubts about him sticking it out after getting a taste of her powers.
"Name de time and de place chere," he said. "I made y' a promise, I won' back down on it."
A/N: Who said writing more than one fic simultaneously was a good idea, and where do I go to injure them?
My thanks to everybody:
BJ2, BlkDiamond, calliopeia, coldqueen, Golden Elanor, Kira, ishandahalf, IvyZoe, Jen, MJK, Pincher, Siarra, Streetwise Girl, Sweety8587, and Tammy.