(Two)
Kimble was dreaming, dreaming in the circle of light. He was inside his own systems, lying in the center of his personal Black Room, his body bathed in the glow of the unseen source of illumination. He was naked and fully aroused, sliding his hands over his body in joyful delight. He was laughing, laughing and singing, his mind gone.
While Kimble may have been gone,the Punisher wasn't. Zander was on his feet as soon as the apparition of the Lover had appeared and he quickly stomped over, going as far as his chains would allow. He reached for the pilot and snarled in disgust when he felt the heat of the pilot's body. "Oh, this is just great! Just fucking great!"
Kimble laughed and reached up at him playfully with his hands. "Mary?"
"You asshole! You stupid fucking asshole!" Zander screamed at the Lover in his fury. "You know what will happen now? She's gonna takes our Angel!"
"What's goin' on?" Lin asked in his tiny Siskan. He had just woken up and was rubbing his eyes. "Why yous shoutin' so loud?"
"Cuz the Lover here's gone and fucked himself up on plasma!"
"Plasma is really really bad fer us."
"No shit, Sherlock! But Kimble here's got a real taste fer it. Look at what it does!"
Kimble lolled his head back, drool running down his chin. His eyes were only half open and not clearly focused. He sensed the presence of another beside him and curled up around Zander's legs, humping him with his hips in a sick parody of making love. "Mary, yer so pretty..."
Zander snarled in disgust and slapped him away. "We have to do something!"
"But what? If we's too loud 'Shay will wakes up!"
Zander turned to where the Quitter was still sleeping. Again the air around her was busy as though she had moved a little and then settled down again. Lin was correct to fear her. With a full load of plasma it would a bad thing if she were to wake and come to power. She might destroy them all in an emotional, suicidal episode.
"Call someone who loves him," Lin was suggesting now, his eyes brightening with hope.
"The body's wasted! It won't move!"
"Thinks it. Thinks it real hard and the Master will come."
"We ain't gots no Master."
"The Remy is our Master. He lays with us without the hurtin's. Calls to him."
Zander was still on his knees, panting now with frustration. This was so bad. He closed his eyes and tried to relax, taking deeper, slower breaths. He clenched his fists, felt the light raining down on him, and took comfort from it. / Remy, you out there? We needs ya, we needs ya now! he sent out in as powerful a vibration he could muster. / Helps us! Wakes us up! Angel's in trouble!
(break)
Remy's head snapped up from his kitchen table with a startled snort. A string of drool came up with it, he had been out cold in a deep dark sleep. He had been up late and had come in from work exhausted. Since his punishment began he had been doing training sessions for the new arrivals, helping Charles build his mutant army. He had been given a training partner, a new guy named Simon who was just as athletic and nimble as he was himself. They had been up most of the night doing lesson planning that had degenerated into beer drinking and an endless game of cards. They were up way too late and he had come in after four in the morning. Not wanting to disturb Molly when he had come in, he had sat at the kitchen table for a quick bite to eat that turned into a nap instead. He had only set his head down a moment, but had gone out like a light. He had always been able to fall asleep in the oddest of places when he was tired enough, this had been no exception. Only something had woken him just now, and he wasn't sure what it had been.
He blinked around the kitchen in a drunken fog, fuzzy from being woken up from so deep a slumber. His blurred eyes managed to register from the wall clock that it was only ten in the morning. A few hours after he had gotten home and a couple of hours since Kimble had gone up to sun himself. Why did he think of that? Of Kimble?
"M-Molly?" he called out, shambling to his feet. He limped to the bedroom and saw she was out cold asleep herself. She was like him, a late sleeper when given the chance. Whatever he had heard, it hadn't come from her.
"Stupid dream!" he muttered to himself and ran a hand through his hair, trying to wake up. He couldn't shake this feeling of unease. A sense of foreboding was washing over him, making his stomach queasy. Maybe he should check on Kimble.
He swayed unsteadily in the center of the kitchen, rumpled and not quite aware. Kimble. He couldn't get the pilot out of his mind. Sloppily he reached for the phone and dialed Kimble's extension. Of course there was no answer, that would have been too easy. Maybe he was just being stupid. Kimble was fine, why wouldn't he be?
/ He should be home by now, Shi'ow-ri argued patiently.
P'etetre de boy got sidetracked, Remy returned, thinking of Kimble's eagerness at the Clubs.
/ I doubt it, it's too early and Angel will be home soon. /
Kimble's fine. 'E must be fine, Remy grumbled, his brain still fogged. He just wanted to sleep. Can't be worryin' 'bout 'im every five minutes, chere.
The phone was still in his hands. Remy hung up and turned to return to his chair, but his feet instead moved him towards the door.
/ Kimble's just across the way, let's go see him. /
Shi'ow-ri? C'mon, girl! What's really goin' on? Why do I feel so fucked up?
/ Lack of decent sleep will do that to a man. If you lay down now, these thoughts will only keep you up. Let's just go give Kim a peek. You can rest after, she continued to persuade, her soothing voice calming him.
Okie dokie, chere. We up now anyways.
Remy shook his head, waking up a little more. He left the apartment and walked the short distance across the hallway. He tapped on Kimble's door and it swung open, not even latched. He took a step back, waking up fully with a sudden bolt of adrenalin. Kimble would never leave his door open like that, not even if he was home. Something was wrong. Instantly on guard now, he poked his head inside. "Ey, Kim? You okay?"
The only response was a slur of garble from the bedroom.
Gambit walked in and then stopped, stunned. He could see the place was a mess, something alarming. Kimble was something of a neat freak, he would never be this messy. Now he could see that someone had actually wrecked the place, searching for something.
Flooded with worry, Remy walked briskly to the bedroom, it was just as trashed as all the other rooms in the apartment. Kimble's drawers had been opened and the clothes tossed out, everything in disarray. The closet louver doors were open, revealing a jumbled up mess inside. Remy's fear intensified with each passing moment.
At least the Siskan was here and not taken. Kimble was on the bed, naked and laying in a twisted tangle of blankets, drenched in sweat. His face was flushed and shining as if he had a fever. He was running his hands over himself, whispering softly in Siskan to some invisible sexual partner. He was clearly drunk or very, very high. His eyes were closed and he was shaking with arousal as he touched himself, his mind hopelessly gone. He had no idea Gambit was there.
"What de 'ell?" Remy said to himself. He had seen this before, oh yes. The last time Kimble had gotten a good hit of plasma. But where did Kimble get it now? There were no plasma producers nearby that Remy knew of. Gambit sat down next to him and touched him, when he felt the heat of Kimble's skin, he knew that Kimble was in deep trouble.
/ This is bad, Shi'ow-ri whispered. / He's high on plasma. /
No kiddin' Remy snapped back at her in irritation, not really meaning to be harsh. He was just disappointed. Kimble had struggled with plasma addiction, falling off and on the wagon. Kimble had been kept isolated from plasma producers on purpose. A full dose of the energy like this was potentially harmful to his star drives. Kimble was largely constructed of gel, but he also had two active star drives floating around inside of him where all of his operating files were stored. Most Siskans had three such drives but Kimble's third one had been damaged beyond repair, it was the reason he could no longer shift from male to female. He was trapped in this one skin forever.
Back in Kimble's room, star drives were the last thing on Gambit's mind. Gotta get some 'elp.
Remy reached for his cell phone and dialed Wolverine's personal security number. He stiffened as it was ringing, feeling a strange vibration come from Kimble. Underneath the ripples of pleasure from his intoxicated friend was another, / Help us, Remy!
Now where did dat come from? Was dis what woke me up? Why it sound so diff'rent? It like it from someone else, Gambit thought to himself, his brow crinkling with concern. He didn't get a chance to think on it long, Logan was answering his phone in his usual gruff voice. "Security, this is Logan."
" 'Ey, Wolvie. It's Remy."
At the sound of Gambit's voice, Kimble's eyes fluttered open and he grabbed at Remy's hands. Remy let him have one to keep him quiet, switching the phone to his other cheek. "I'm at Kimble's place. Someone's got 'im all messed up on plasma an' ripped de place apart."
"How do you know he didn't do it to himself?" Logan asked without being mean. He and Kimble didn't always get along, but their mutual hatred had cooled over the years. He also knew of Kimble's addiction and its sometimes destructive aftermath.
Kimble took Gambit's hand and rubbed it against his face, smelling him. He giggled again and whispered oh so softly, "Mary? Come fucks me some more..."
Gambit shifted uncomfortably as fond memories came back to him and made him a little too warm. He felt another blast of heat as Kimble slid his thumb into his mouth and started sucking on it suggestively and licking at him with his tongue. A strong vibration came into him of Kimble's lust and desire and his only defense was to pull away and stand up, moving away from the bed. He grunted a little when he felt the stiffness Kimble had given him. Kimble was a master of oral foreplay, Remy had never had better, and he was forced to remember his promise to Molly. He wouldn't stray again, no matter how tempting the invitation.
"You okay?" Logan asked from the other line.
"Bien sur, oui. It's just Kimble. 'E all messed up. 'E playin' a bit rough."
Remy's new perspective gave him a good view of Kimble's nightstand. Gambit had seen a large locked box there in his many visits, but never knew what was inside. It was now smashed open and he could see a large collection of prescription drugs in there, most of them given to him by Henry. The sight of it made him furious. All this time he had been thinking Kimble was okay when he wasn't.
"Merde!"
He knew Kimble wasn't always happy, especially since he had withdrawn his full time favors. His pilot friend wasn't much of a complainer, he kept his woes to himself. Sometimes, Kimble would knock softly on Remy's door during times when Molly wasn't there and wander in, lost. How Kimble would know when Molly was gone was something of a mystery, but Gambit wouldn't ask. He would sit on the couch and Kimble would lay down next to him and put his head in his lap, wanting nothing more than to be petted and gently touched. Remy never minded the intrusions, he gave his friend the affection he was seeking and would sit quiet, watching television while Kimble grew tired and slept.
Back in the here and now, Wolverine growled impatiently, jerking Remy from his thoughts. "You gonna tell me what's goin' on? I got a lot of other things I could be doin'."
"Non. You come down 'ere. Somebody broke in 'ere lookin' for sumptin'. Dis ain't no accident. Bring 'Enry, too. Kimble all messed up and dere's drugs all over de place. Sumptin's goin' on. Sumptin' bad."
"All right. Just keep everyone out 'till I get there so I can get a good scent off the place."
"D'accorde."
Remy hung up and looked down at his friend. Kimble had curled up, whimpering softly. He had sensed Remy's anger with his plasma heightened senses and didn't like it. Remy smoothed his hair back and Kimble settled, taking his hand to smell it again. "Don' be mad, Mary...Don' leave me again..."
"I ain't mad, Kim," he said, knowing Kimble would have little or no memory of this once he came down. No sense in arguing. "Jus' you be good now for me. Let's get you some clothes, d'accorde? Company's comin'."
Remy went to Kimble's closet to grab some pants but stood still, shocked once more. Again, he had never pried into Kimble's private life. Never looked through Kimble's personal things. Here now, hidden away in a closet that had always been closed back at the Mansion was another Siskan secret. Kimble had erected a shrine, a sign that his friend wasn't well and probably never would be.
Kimble had made the shrine from pictures and objects, a fierce reminder of every failure he had made and everyone he had ever betrayed. He had drawn pictures of those he perceived to be Masters in one form or another. Here was Sheyman, sick and wasted on his deathbed, a Master that Kimble had been unable to save. Beside him was Bruce, the Clansman who had once showed him some affection. He was sick and dying as well, a victim of a disease inadvertently spread by Remy on a night he had taken Kimble out. Taped to it was a lock of long rusty blonde hair, the lock he had cut from the dead Clansman on the day he had died. There, too, was Raul, another victim of the same virus. Both had died and Kimble felt responsible. He had loved them and they had died. After that came a picture of Gail, a girl who had been more lizard than human, but a girl who had dared to love him nonetheless. Here was her in agony, her head tossed back as it was destroyed by a bullet that had come out of nowhere. Kimble had been there when she died. She had been killed because she was in the way of someone trying to get to him.
Three more pictures followed that Remy didn't recognize, but he wasn't surprised to see them. A security guard shot in the head, two men run through with spikes. Victims of Lakotashay's brutal desire to kill and be killed herself, a shattered splinter of Kimble's broken mind before he had been repaired. They were surrounded by smaller pictures of various animals. Remy had known that Kimble was once made to kill cats for plasma by a sick and twisted plasma producer named Leon, but was surprised to see a cow there as well. Kimble had drawn 'Shay as he saw her, a tiny teenaged girl, wrapped around the neck of that bovine sacrifice, her strength brutal as she twisted and snapped its neck. Kimble's ability to draw was uncanny. It made Remy sick just to see it.
Worse than that was a drawing of Kimble's beloved Kristalay. This one was very new, only a couple of days old. It would have to be. Here was his former Master being tortured and mutilated by unseen assailants. He had been brutalized for daring to love Kimble and the Siskan would never recover from it. Beside that was a picture of Remy. Here was a perfect picture of himself weeping, crying from some unseen agony, one Kimble didn't reveal. Then another of him and Molly, arms around each other and walking away from the one who had made this awful shrine, leaving Kimble alone.
At the center of all this was a mirror with a caption above and below. The top one said, You did this, the one below, Angel will be safe as long as you never fuck her. She is not your Mistress, not like that. Remember this and she'll be safe. No one stays...no one dies.
Remy shuddered, feeling the pain of his friend. Residual vibrations of Kimble's agony were strong here. Under the mirror was a small shelf. Laid out with special care was a series of homemade scalpels. The blades were clean, but then Kimble's gel blood would never show. Not like the vibrations that hung here like some kind of evil sickness. Remy could picture his friend sitting here, mutilating himself as a sick punishment for crimes he perceived to be his own. He could cut himself and then repair it in the sun. No one would ever know, not even him.
/ How he suffers , Shi'ow-ri whispered.
Why don' 'e tell me? Remy complained with a soft sob. He was swamped with a feeling of deep despair, that all of his work and efforts had been in vain. He was a failure, he had been the worst Master ever.
/ Stop that now, Shi'ow-ri chided. / He does tell you. Every time he cries, it's you he wants. In this way you've been the best of all the Masters. You've given him your heart, what you could of it, and he knows it. /
An' Gambit don't come 'round no more. Not for de lovin'.
/ This is older than that and you know it. /
She was right and he did know it. This shrine wasn't new. In fact, he could distinctly remember a box that Kimble had brought along with him from the Mansion. A box his Siskan had said contained his artwork. A box he had unpacked himself, not letting Remy near. Kimble hadn't exactly lied, this was a work of art all right. Just one Remy had wished he hadn't seen. It was exposed now only because whomever ransacked this apartment had uncovered it. Remy vaguely wondered what they had thought of it. It hadn't been touched, just exposed.
What am I gonna do wit my Siskan, chere? 'E ain't never gonna be right no matter what I do.
/ That's not true. What he needs is your love and understanding. He would be much worse without it. He loves you and needs you to look after him. He needs you now. /
Remy tore himself away from the awful shrine, not wanting to look at it. He went to the dresser and pulled out a clean pair of sweatpants. He awkwardly dressed his friend, trying to keep his anger and pain to a minimum. Kimble tried his best to co-operate, but he was so high, he kept falling over and shivering from the pleasure of Remy's touch. Gambit just pinned him down and managed to get him decent by the time Logan arrived.
Wolverine was there in no time, bringing some guards to watch the door and keep the crime scene clear. He took one look at the place and had no doubt Kimble's apartment had been searched. All the rooms had been wrecked. Seat cushions were ripped open and drawers dumped out. Even Angel's room had been gone through and some of her toys destroyed as they were smashed to see inside. Someone obviously thought Kimble was hiding something and had made a grand effort to find it.
Logan went into Kimble's bedroom during his search. He was using all of his senses as he looked about, his abilities telling him many things. Blessed with animal keen senses, he was always aware of things on a scale unlike most people. He had to laugh at his reputation for being surly and tactless. Actually, he was the king of tact. His teammates would be shocked to know he knew almost all of their secrets. How could he not? He could hear most private conversations, smell the sickness if one of them was injured and trying to hide it. More than once he had smelled someone other than the right partner on one of his friends as they passed him by. He never said a word. He was using those same senses now to process the crime scene before him now.
Kimble had come in from the outside, bringing the scent of heat and sand with him. Small grains of that sand were dragged now in the carpet, caught in Kimble's furry paws no doubt. He hadn't cooked, but brought his guest directly to the bedroom with him. Mary's scent, hot and sweaty along the wall, glared at Logan's nostrils like an obscene fingerprint. They had paused here to undress, but finished in the bedroom. His guest...the odor of plasma girl and Chanel. Now why was that so familiar? It teetered on his memory, but he couldn't quite place it. Plasma girl wanted to play. They fucked, fucked hard and it wasn't quick. Her sex heavy smell was all over Kimble's bed, his sheets and blankets. Her scent was strong and Logan couldn't help but wonder how many times Kimble had gotten her off. Just the thought of it made his own body twitch a bit in unconscious arousal.
Afterwards, she had torn the place apart, looking for something.
Her efforts had been very revealing, even if they didn't expose what she had been looking for. Logan saw the smashed wooden box full of Henry's drugs and a small stash of marijuana, something outlawed in the Complex. It didn't surprise Wolverine at all that the pot had been there, he had smelled it on Kimble before back at Westchester. He had smelled it on Remy and Kimble both, though it had been a while. This stash was quite fresh though it was small. He wondered where Kimble had gotten it, but really, he had more to worry about than a few measly ounces of grass.
He had seen the shrine there, in Kimble's closet, his eyes opening wide in shock and surprise. He saw it but didn't want to believe it. He had spent a lot of time with Kimble, watching over him in his way. Their daughters were close friends. He wasn't sure what to think, but it made him re-evaluate Kimble's ability to conceal and hide his true nature. The neat line of scalpels gave him pause as well. No blood there, but that didn't mean anything. He knew Kimble had a thing for pain, but this was just sick. Not for the first time, he began to wonder if the Siskan could truly be trusted. Poor Remy, how his heart must be breaking to see this after all the work he had put into Kimble. He would be sure to have Karen speak with him.
Meanwhile, Remy had moved Kimble out of Logan's way to the kitchen and gently shoved him into a chair in one of the cleaner areas. Princess the cat had been hiding all along with all of this fuss, but had come out, lured by familiar voices. The large tabby was rubbing her bulk against his legs now, threatening to trip him as he moved Kimble along. "Easy now, chere. Remy miss you, too," he soothed her gently, stroking her and moving her out of the way.
Kimble didn't notice his resident feline. He groaned and lay his head down on the table. He was so hot and high and wanted only to sleep it off. Gambit wouldn't let him, he took a dishtowel and wet it with cold water to wipe Kimble's face in an attempt to revive him. Kimble squirmed and protested, but Remy wouldn't let him go. "Entretien a' moi, Kim, s'il vous plait. Tell me what happen 'ere."
"Lemmie 'lone, Mary! Stop it!" Kimble garbled, the plasma robbing him of his sanity. He had no idea it was Gambit who was there.
Remy growled in irritation and opened up the refrigerator. He knew Kimble well enough to know what he was looking for would be there. He found a small tub of chocolate pudding and took it out. He scooped some out with his fingers and shoved them into Kimble's mouth as he ordered, "Wake up! See me!"
Logan had followed them in and watched this, noting Remy's use of chocolate. It wasn't the first time he had seen Gambit use it like this and said nothing. He just kicked back and watched the show.
Kimble sucked at the sudden gob of chocolate in his mouth and struggled to understand what was being done to him. He had a strong association with chocolate, it usually meant Gambit was around. It had started as something Remy had used long ago when he wanted to get Kimble's attention. Chocolate equaled Gambit and it was sinking in that Kimble wasn't where he thought he was. He rubbed at his eyes and reached out in front of him. When his hands found Remy's coat and tugged on it, he smiled drunkenly. "Hey, Remy. What'z up?" he slurred, his mouth as numb as his mind.
"You wit de program now, little brother?"
Kimble snorted and rubbed at his face some more. "Wanner be sleepin's..."
"Non. No sleepy time fo' you. You sick, cher. What 'appened?"
"Nuthin'. I wuz sleepin' an you waked me up..."
"Non. It ain't like dat. Who's Mary?"
"Who's Mary?" Kimble repeated, his mind a hopeless jumble.
"You call me Mary. Who's dat? Some femme you brung 'ome?"
Kimble shrugged and turned away, but Remy took his chin. "Talk to me."
"Whatcha wants from me! Lemmie sleep!" the Siskan complained angrily, pushing Remy away.
"I don't think so, bub," Logan growled, getting Kimble's attention.
Kimble frowned and issued another garbled complaint in Logan's direction. That growl he knew all too well and it meant only one thing - somehow he was in trouble again. "What'z goin' on, huh? What I done now?"
Logan had sniffed out the place and had no real answers. Although he had accepted it long ago, it still unnerved Logan that whenever he was where Kimble lived, either back in Westchester or here, all he could scent out was Angel and the cat. Kimble carried no scent, he never had. Today, Logan could smell nothing out of the ordinary except for the one female scent he couldn't recognize. "Who'd you take home, buddy?" he asked, glancing down briefly. Princess had moved along to him and was sniffing him out, meowing for food.
Kimble squinted as he tried to think. It was all a blur and he was so high, so high...
"Kimble!"
Princess fled and Kimble jerked at the sharp bark of Logan's voice. The Siskan cowered submissively, whimpering. Wolverine's shine was so bright, just like Creed's. The same way it made Kristalay's love so wonderful, it made Logan's fury that much more painful. It physically hurt him like a slap and he shrank away, covering his face.
Remy was standing behind him and let Kimble turn away against him, hoping his presence would comfort him. "Easy dere, Kim. Nobody's gonna 'urt you, je promets," he said, giving Logan a cautionary look as he gently stroked Kimble's hair back. "We just wanna talk."
Wolverine backed up and crossed his arms. "Help us out, Kimble. Who'd ya take home? Who's Mary?"
Kimble leaned into Gambit and rubbed his cheek against him, trying to find some comfort from the bright abrasiveness of Logan's voice. Remy petted him, not caring what it looked like, and Kimble calmed. He closed his eyes and whispered, "Mary...she come back fer me..."
"Who's Mary?"
"Mary wuz with me an' Kristalay b'fore when I uzedta stay with him. She fed me."
Logan and Remy exchanged glances, recognizing Kimble's nickname for his former Master. This was getting worse all the time. It made some sense now to Wolverine, however. He had never met Mary Green, but he had smelled her before long ago when he had searched one of Sabretooth's apartments. "Do you know for sure?" he asked, just being thorough.
"Yez...She say...she say...love me. Love me like ya done b'fore." Kimble shuddered from a sudden memory of her body on top of his, blasting him with heat and energy. There was nothing that came close to fucking when he was on a plasma trip. He laughed and pawed at the air, seeing a hazy image of her face.
"Dat it, eh? She say come an' you did? You too easy, man," Remy chided, unable to hide a smile at the thought.
"Naw. I sez, Mary, I cain't be witcha cuz you'll git hurt, but she sez she cain't git hurts from me and then she wuz touchin' me an' then we wuz fuckin' an' it was so nize, Remy. So nize like b'fore, so hot and red...all red an' orange like luvin 'spozeta be not so cold an' empty..."
Gambit's sense of humor faded at this. Once again, Kimble's complexes interfered with his friend's happiness and ability to settle down. Kimble equated heat with love and plasma was like a kiss from the sun. It had been a hard thing to keep Kimble from harassing any plasma producer that crossed his path. "It ain't real, Kimble. De plasma make you t'ink it's real when it ain't."
"Don' care...don' care 'bout nuthin' no more. Juz wanna sleep..." He tucked his head away against his friend and Remy felt a vibration of despair come from Kimble he hadn't felt in a long time. This time Remy didn't fight him and let him nod off.
"Where's 'Enry?" Gambit asked when he felt Kimble slip away into a stupor, no longer in the room with them in any sense that mattered.
"On a call. He said he'd come down when he could. What does he mean by him makin' Mary sick?"
" 'E still believe if he let anyone love him too much, dey'll die. Dey'll get his 'bad luck' disease," Remy answered softly, still petting his friend. "You seen what 'e made, eh?"
Logan nodded. Remy had made no attempt to conceal the shrine. "Yeah. I seen it. Why did he make it?"
" 'Cause 'e always blame 'imself fo' what others do. It just 'ow 'e is, comprenez? T'ink about it, you know what 'e's been like since we come 'ere. Why you t'ink 'e always runnin' down someone new? Actin' like some kinda whore? 'E won' let nobody stay. I didn' know it was so bad 'e was takin' all dem drugs. Me an' 'Enry gonna 'ave words 'bout dat, you can count on it."
Logan didn't question the pain and anger he saw on Gambit's face. He had seen the mess of drugs on Kimble's bedside and Henry's name on the labels. "What are ya gonna do with Kim?"
"I'm takin' 'im down to de Med Bay. Angel's in school, she'll need to be told."
"I'll have a team go pick her up. Look, Remy. It's time ya faced facts here. Kimble's gone off the deep end and I don't think he's gonna come back."
"What you mean, mon ami?" Remy asked, his voice hard. "So 'e 'avin trouble with de move? Dat ain't unexpected. 'E ain't done nuthin' to nobody."
"No, he's just sittin' in his room cuttin' himself in front of some sick piece of work. I ain't about to let him get any worse. Face it, he's gone. You've tried real hard with him, anyone can see that. You've tried, I've tried, everyone's tried. It just ain't workin' out, okay? He's goin' in the lockup and that's it."
"Non."
"He's under arrest, Rem. That's final."
"You got no authority, Wolvie boy!"
Logan pulled his badge and didn't move as two of his guards came from the other room to back him up. "This badge says different. I can detain him for twenty four hours for evaluation. Karen's got the call on this one. I don't think she's gonna fight me."
Gambit stood in place, trembling with rage. This was so wrong. Kimble had problems sure, but – but this had been working, damnit! "I'm takin' him down to 'Enry's."
"Fine. He gets checked out and then Beast is gonna put him away. The new Med Bay's got a couple of lockups. He ain't walkin' free. And don't even think about pullin' anything sneaky. In fact I'll just have Jerry here go with ya. Make sure you get down there all right."
Remy looked up at Logan's man. This was Jerry Maxwell, a telekinetic that he wasn't too familiar with. Logan had picked him out of a pool, grabbing some of the more powerful mutants to be part of his team. Jerry was a tall man and well built, stronger than he was and Jerry seemed to know it. It was on the self satisfied smirk on Jerry's face as he looked Remy over.
Gambit wasn't about to be intimidated. He snorted at Wolverine in frustrated anger. "Me and de Professor gonna 'ave words on dis. You ain't got no right to just arrest anyone you want."
"You go and you talk. You and Chuck have a nice time."
Remy growled and got Kimble set to go. He went to the bedroom and tossed all of Kimble's drugs into his deep jacket pockets, pissed off. Remy came back and tried to heave Kimble up over his shoulder, but he was just too heavy for that bum leg. Jerry came up and took the Siskan, making some offhand comment about how Kimble was lighter than he seemed. It was like a dig at his current state of weakness and Remy was pissed. He said nothing and they left, leaving Logan to his investigations.