The flight took far longer than any of them would have liked, but they finally approached the base, the basketball court opening up invitingly. Cyclops lowered the jet into the hanger; it was an exhausted team that gathered at the top of the ramp as Cyclops opened the door; Rogue and Wolverine carrying the stretcher that bore Gambit. The cervical collar was still braced around his neck and head, and they had covered him with a blanket that was tucked around his chest, his arms straight at his sides, both of his burnt hands swathed in bandages; Jean walked at his side, holding up the bag of intravenous fluids and medications. In silence, they proceeded down the ramp, to be met by the Professor and Jubilee. For once, the irrepressible teenager said nothing, her hands going to her mouth as she stared at Gambit in wide-eyed horror.
"Oh, no..." Xavier breathed, as Wolverine and Rogue silently marched past them, heading straight for the infirmary, "Scott... what happened?"
"He saved us," Cyclops said, simply, wrapping one arm around Jean's shoulders, as she leaned into his embrace, "I... I promise we'll debrief soon, Professor but... we need... we need some time."
"Of course, Scott," the Professor conceded, "but, I must ask... Dr Kolton?"
"Escaped," Cyclops gritted his teeth, "but his research and prototypes were all destroyed... except for these."
He held up the collars that had been removed from himself, Rogue and Jean during the flight home. The Professor eyed them, distastefully.
"Take them to the laboratory," he ordered, "we will study them in due course. For now... the whole team is stood down. I will proceed to the infirmary and check in on Gambit..."
"I'm coming with you," Scott stated, firmly, "we still don't know everything that happened to him..."
"Then we shall ask him," the Professor said, already directing his hover-chair through the door, "and hope that he is able to answer us..."
They made their way to the infirmary, to find Beast hooking Gambit up to a myriad of machines and monitors, his expression grave. Rogue was at the head of the bed, her right hand curling through Gambit's hair, drawing as much comfort from the gesture as it was intended to covey to the critically-injured Cajun.
"He is in a coma," Beast told them, bluntly, as they approached the bed, "I fear his injuries are extremely severe... too severe, in fact. He is slipping away from us..."
The only sound in that moment was a heartbroken, strangled sob from Rogue, her shoulders shaking as she bowed over Gambit, as close as she dared without letting her skin touch his, still mindful of the devastating effect her powers would have on him.
"Isn't there anything you can do?" Cyclops asked, horrified, "There must be something..."
"I still do not know the extent of what happened to him," Beast sighed, resting a hand on Gambit's shoulder, "perhaps I would have more luck if I knew the depths of his trauma... but I doubt it. His injuries are too severe... I am sorry. He is beyond our ability to heal..."
"Then we must ask him," Xavier raised his hands to his temples, as the other members of the team gathered around the bed, "I only hope that he can still hear me..."
Gambit... he called out, telepathically, it's me... it's Professor Xavier. Can you hear me...?
Xavier reached out, and found himself surrounded by darkness. His mental projection of himself stood tall, unaffected by the frailty of his physical body. He stepped forward, recognising a mind that was lost in unconsciousness.
"Gambit?" he called out, "Can you hear me?"
He glanced around, and began to walk through Gambit's unconscious mind, calling out as he went. Here and there, he thought he saw flashes of thoughts, dreams, half-remembered voices, names and faces, but he ignored them, respecting Gambit's strong desire for privacy. Eventually, he saw a tree, a large, gnarled eucalyptus, rising out of the foggy darkness, and he strode towards it. At the base of the trunk, a familiar figure in silver boots, black trousers, a purple shirt and brown trench coat sat on the ground. He had his back to the trunk, his feet planted on the ground with his knees bent in front of him. His arms were extended, wrists balanced on his knees, fingers dangling limply, head bowed. Exhaustion and defeat rolled off him in waves, as Xavier approached.
"Gambit?"
The Cajun slowly raised his head, and Xavier could see the red irises were dark, clouded with pain and emotion.
"Professor?"
"Yes, it's me... I'm here to help you. We need to know what happened to you..."
Gambit tilted his head, to one side, as if considering this.
"I need to climb de tree," he said, at long last, looking up at the branches towering above him, "but it's too tall... an' Gambit is so tired..."
His head dropped forwards again, and Xavier shivered; he could feel Gambit's consciousness weakening, slipping further away.
"Show me, Gambit," he said, firmly, "show me and the others what actually happened in the lab... we need to know what happened to you... please..."
By way of reply, Gambit rotated his right hand, palm up, fingers extended. Xavier crouched down and reached out, touching his own fingers to Gambit's half-gloved ones. A shock of memories flooded through him and he immediately reached out to the other X-Men, connecting their minds as one, as they saw events unfold through Gambit's eyes; leaving the base feeling significantly under-par but determined to help his teammates, breaking into the lab, witnessing the experiments on his friends, rescuing them two at a time, fighting and falling to Sergeant Davies as he struggled to get to Storm and Jean, regaining consciousness with their assistance, helping them flee the building, fighting off the guards, and his final, cocky showdown with Davies as he goaded the man into wasting the powers stolen and temporarily granted to him, all the while fighting the desire to give in to the agony of his wounds, urging his friends to escape without him, buying them the time they so desperately needed to survive. Being lifted into the sky, feeling the grim determination, knowing what needed to be done... knowing he would likely not survive it, but the rest of the team would, and that meant more to him than anything else... regret that he would not get to tell Rogue one last time that he loved her... you forgot one very important power, mon amis... Mine. Xavier broke the connection just as they all felt the searing, burning pain of Davies' collar detonating under their hands – Gambit's hands – as he plummeted from the sky, satisfied to die if it meant his friends were safe, feeling oddly at peace for the first time in his life.
Gasping with pain and shock, they all snapped back to the real world, every single one of them instinctively looking to their hands, expecting red-raw skin and bleeding, blistered flesh, but of course there was none. Their hands were intact. Gambit's, however... their eyes all fell to the bandaging Beast had carefully applied to cover the cauterised skin.
"The collars," Wolverine suddenly snarled, spying the three abandoned collars Cyclops had discarded haphazardly on the worktops, "we use the collars!"
"What the hell are you talking about?" Jubilee exclaimed, tears running unchecked down her face, "You saw what those things were capable of!"
"Exactly!" Wolverine snapped, snatching up two of the collars, "put one on me and one on the Cajun – give him my healing abilities – now!"
Beast hesitated; "What you are suggesting could be dangerous – it might not work – and I am unfamiliar with the controls..."
"Then figure it out," Wolverine told him, bluntly, "you all felt it, as well as I did – he's dyin'. So put it on 'im – unless ya got a better idea, doc?"
There was another heartbeat of a pause, before Beast reluctantly took the modified suppression collar. He quickly removed the cervical collar from Gambit's neck, fitting the brutal-looking yellow collar instead, wincing as the needles pushed into the already-abused and bruise-darkened skin of Gambit's throat. Wolverine snapped a collar around his own neck, handing the remote control to Beast, who surveyed it. The heart monitor attached to Gambit began to beep a warning, and Hank glanced at it.
"Bradycardia... his heart rate is slowing down, and his blood pressure is dropping rapidly..."
"Do it, Hank," Wolverine urged him.
"I believe Gambit saw Dr Kolton press this button... then turn this dial..."
Wolverine growled a curse as the needles of the collar shot into his neck, reading his genetic code and mutation. On the table, Gambit's collar also lit up, and his skin seemed to ripple as his genetic code was temporarily adjusted. Hank turned to the monitors, frowning at the readouts, as Wolverine and the others crowded around the bed.
"Well?" growled the Canadian, "is it workin'?"
"I do not know... his heart rate is still falling..."
"His face!" Rogue exclaimed, "Look at his face!"
Sure enough, the large, dark welt on Gambit's jaw had begun to shrink, fading away, leaving only flawless skin. Hank and Jean both snatched up scissors and swiftly cut away all of the bandages swathing his battered torso, and they watched in amazement as burnt skin re-grew; cuts seemed to seal themselves, healing and evaporating before their eyes. The bruises shrank and faded away. The lump on his head contracted, the nasty laceration knitting itself back together, and as they watched, his bruised throat slowly began to clear, the ugly mottled discoloration giving way to smooth skin, visible around the collar he now wore.
"It worked," Beast sounded stunned, "he is stabilising... it's incredible... even the scar on his side is healing completely... it is truly amazing."
"Tell me about it," Wolverine smirked.
"Ah think he's wakin' up!" Rogue's excitement was palpable, and shared by her teammates, "Remy? Remy, can ya hear me, sugar?"
His eyes shifted restlessly beneath closed lids as she leaned in closer, until they finally flickered open, blinking rapidly, surprise written into those eerie red and black orbs.
"Chère?" he frowned, looking confused, "Wha' happen'? Last t'ing Gambit remember... felt like I was dyin'..."
"Ya can thank me later, Cajun," Wolverine smirked, tapping the collar around his own neck.
Gambit's hand shot to his neck in shock, feeling the modified collar sinking into his own skin, then raised his hands in front of his face; the scorched and ruined gloves were a testament to the horrific injuries he had sustained, but the flesh beneath was perfectly smooth and healthy. He touched his hands to his throat, and side, and head, unable to believe that the crippling agony that had been so overwhelming was gone, washed away by Wolverine's miraculous healing powers, shared by the use of the very technology that had so violated his friends and inflicted such trauma upon his body. He slowly sat up, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed, still gazing at his previously ruined hands in shock.
"Carcajou," he murmured, in disbelief, "Gambit... don' know how to t'ank you, mon amis..."
"Well, I figure I owed ya one after ya sprang us from that lab," Wolverine waved a hand, dismissively, "least I could do was lend ya ma healin' powers after what ya did. Nice work, Gumbo."
"Oh, Remy," Rogue threw her arms around his neck, careful that his skin did not touch hers, "ah was so worried! We nearly lost ya..."
"Sorry, chère..." he mumbled, returning her embrace, until she stepped back and cuffed him over the side of the head "Ow! What dat for?"
"For scarin' me half to death," she scolded him, wagging her finger at him, but her eyes danced with amusement.
Gambit glanced down at his left arm, and with a slight shrug, pulled out the intravenous needle in the crook of his arm, watching in fascination as the tiny hole completely closed up. Beast pressed another button on the remote and the collars fell off; Gambit's neck healed instantly, as did Logan's.
"Fascinating," Beast marvelled, "the genetic alteration remains in the subject's system even with the removal of the collar, while the donor resumes control of the power for themselves immediately upon removal of the suppression field..."
Gambit ran a finger across his side, previously marred by a still-healing pink scar that had now faded away until it disappeared, leaving him completely unmarked.
"Wow," he marvelled.
"Don't get too used to it, Cajun," Wolverine grinned, "from what I understand, ya got thirty minutes until that invulnerability wears off."
Gambit managed a weak grin as he raised his eyes suggestively to Rogue, "Ah, chère – shame not even de Carcajou is immune to your touch, eh?"
Rogue's eyes widened slightly; "No... he ain't... but... Hank? Ya still got that original Genoshan collar around here someplace?"
"Top drawer in that unit," Beast pointed, "but I fail to see why you would want... oh."
Rogue snatched the collar, slapping it around her own neck. Gambit's jaw dropped.
"Chère..."
"Can it, Cajun – you're comin' with me!" Rogue's cheeks coloured red as she grabbed Gambit's wrist, and he found himself being hastily tugged off the bed.
"Y'all're gonna have ta excuse us," Rogue stuttered, blushing furiously, "ah'm... ah... we're... that is... he's healed, ain't he, Hank?"
"Well, apparently, yes, but I would like to run some further tests..."
"Dey can wait," Gambit's words tumbled out in a rush; Rogue was already dragging him towards the door, "uh... t'anks again, mes amis!"
"Don't mention it," Wolverine was openly smirking, as the two of them disappeared at a sprint up the corridor.
The others exchanged amused glances – except for Jubilee.
"What's so funny?" she demanded, "Where are they going in such a hurry? What's going on? Gambit was dying and now he's fine and everyone's laughing, I don't get it..."
"We'll, uh... we'll explain it to you when you're older," Cyclops was grinning, his cheeks reddening slightly, exchanging knowing looks with Jean, who was trying hard not to laugh at the young teen's confused expression, "uh... maybe..."
"Best present I could ever give a man," Wolverine snickered, rocking back on his heels smugly, "good luck to ya, Cajun."
"The effects of these collars certainly warrant further study," Beast mused, his expression a mixture of amusement and embarrassment, "though I fear once I am done I must destroy them. We can never risk such dangerous technology falling into the wrong hands."
"Agreed," Xavier nodded, emphatically, "Logan... thank you. Now... you are all exhausted, I suggest you get some rest."
"Somethin' tells me that ain't what Rogue and' the Cajun are doin' right now..."
Their combined laughter – coupled with the sudden expression of realisation, horror, and teenage embarrassment dawning on Jubilee's face – was enough to break whatever tension remained in the room. Later that day, Logan was not surprised to find that the window of his room had been expertly opened from the outside, the curtains blowing in the breeze, a bottle of excellent single malt whiskey and a box of his favourite cigars sitting on the nightstand. He lit one up as he opened the bottle, leaning against the window frame as he stared out at the stars, and he smiled to himself, raising a toast to the night sky.
"Yer welcome, Gumbo."
The End
