As the darkness of night closed around the decrepit cabin, it also closed in around Gambit's mind. The others all knew of his ability to charge objects with kinetic energy, from as gently as re-heating a cup of cocoa, to exploding an entire building if he chose to. They knew of his skill at throwing cards, darts, and knives; his marksmanship skills were unparalleled. They knew of his skill with a bo staff, that he was a keen martial artist, and that he worked out constantly to maintain a peak level of fitness. They knew not to challenge him to a game of pool or cards, certainly not when there was money involved, and they knew he was a Master Thief, an aerial acrobat, adept at card tricks, a charmer, a joker, and of his fondness for Cajun cooking and hard liquor.
However, there were many things his friends did not know about the enigmatic Remy LeBeau; he still kept some secrets. One of them was his latent empathic powers, and his ability to charm anyone he set his mind to. He had never, ever used these powers on any of his friends, preferring for them to like him for who he was, as they saw fit. He wasn't even sure if the Professor knew of these abilities, though he was sure he suspected. His empathy meant he knew what everyone in the room was feeling, and he'd learned over the years to put up certain mental shields, to protect himself from being overwhelmed by those emotions. It also meant he was one of the few mutants who could block out a psychic scan from Professor Xavier or Jean Grey, if he ever chose to.
However, he had never tried it the other way around. He was aware, somehow, of the telepathic suppression field that enveloped Genosha, an extension, perhaps, of the power suppression collars forced on their mutant population, reducing them to mere slaves. But here, closer to the coastline and away from the mutant slave colonies that just kept springing up despite their interventions, he could somehow feel that the field was weaker. He had sensed Rogue's desperation and knew that she must have been mentally calling out to the Professor, but the field prevented her pleas for help reaching through.
And so, in the darkness of his mind, he sat behind his mental walls. Distantly, he was aware of the fire of fever blazing through his veins, ravaging his tortured body. The pain of his wound speared through his side, back and stomach, clawing up his back and chest, an agony that made him want to scream until his throat was raw. His head went round and round in sickening, dizzying surges, and he could barely catch his breath as he flickered in and out of consciousness. In moments of lucidity, he was vaguely aware of either Rogue or Wolverine sitting beside him on the bed, talking to him, mopping his face with a soothing damp cloth, encouraging him to take sips of water from a bottle he was too weak to hold for himself.
Then, he retreated back behind the walls, where the pain and the fear and the heat and the exhaustion were like hounds baying on the other side of the barriers; he knew of them, but unless he let them in, they could not quite touch him. But then again, neither could anything else. He cared little for himself; he could feel himself gradually slipping away, but he knew there was one last way that he could help his friends...
And so, from within those carefully constructed walls, he reached out and, very slowly, very hesitantly, he opened a door...
...
...
In the study of the mansion at Charles Xavier's School for the Gifted, on the other side of the world to Genosha, the Professor sat in his hover-chair, taking tea with Dr. Hank McCoy and Scott Summers, as they idly chatted about their students, their latest missions, the local news and weather reports. Taking a sip of tea, Xavier suddenly froze, the cup halfway to his lips.
"Professor?" Cyclops immediately noticed his expression of shock.
"Something... something's wrong..." he lowered the cup, and directed his chair over to the window, gazing out across the grounds of the school.
"What is it, my friend?" Beast hopped down from his perch on the back of a heavy wing-backed armchair, crossing immediately to the Professor's side.
"I'm not sure," Xavier raised his hands to his temples, concentrating, "I just... for one moment, I... I felt..."
He trailed off, turning his focus inward, channelling his powerful psychic abilities. Beast and Cyclops exchanged concerned glances, knowing better than to try to interrupt the Professor.
Inside his head, Xavier filtered out all distractions, focussing on the consciousness that had touched his mind.
I'm here... he projected, calling out into the darkness he was sensing, I can hear you... let me help...
Professor...
The answering voice was incredibly feeble, and he reached out towards it, trying to strengthen their tenuous link.
Please... Professor...
The voice was horribly weak, but the unmistakeable Cajun accent was jarringly familiar. Xavier had never heard that voice sound quite so desperate, so filled with unspeakable agony, as he sensed in that moment.
Gambit? Gambit, is that you?
Professor... please... we need yo' help...
With a gasp, Xavier snapped back into the physical world, the connection suddenly and inexplicably severed. Reeling, he blinked his eyes back into focus, and found both Beast and Cyclops either side of him, expressions of concern written all over their faces.
"Professor?" Scott was the first to speak, worry laced in his voice even though his eyes were hidden behind his ruby glasses, shielding the world from his deadly gaze, "Professor, what is it?"
"I think..." Xavier took a deep breath, trying to steady his reeling mind, "I think... it was Gambit. And... he is in terrible pain... Scott, summon the others for a briefing, immediately! I will try to re-establish contact..."
