(Four)

Remy sat in Beast's overstuffed office chair, toying with a cigarette in his fingers. He hadn't lit it yet, but he was giving it serious consideration. He had once bargained with Kimble that he would quit smoking if Kimble would quit plasma. Neither one of them had been entirely successful. Remy was sitting here waiting for the inevitable confrontation - Wolverine was just outside the open door, working out the details with Beast on how Kimble was to be kept. The Siskan had been taken down to the main lab where Henry worked because there were two holding cells here. It was a secure area, Kimble's Kristalay was here as well, under observation as he slowly recovered. Gambit's two teammates had been arguing for a short while now, the furious debate had started out in the Main Lab, but was working its way closer to the office where Remy had been waiting somewhat impatiently for almost an hour.

"He ain't goin' out no matter what!" Logan was saying.

"He's low on power," Henry argued in return. "He must be allowed some kind of charge!"

Good 'ol 'Enry. Nice to know I can count on someone 'ere, Remy thought with a slow smile of satisfaction. It was gratifying to hear someone else besides himself stick up for Kimble. If enough folks would do it, Kimble might get more respect.

Logan grunted, not giving an inch. "Let Remy charge him up then."

"It won't be enough. Kimble can't use the cubes the way Seth does. You know that!"

"It's gonna hafta be. He stays here, that's the end of it!"

Gambit grumbled and rose stiffly, popping a spark of kinetic energy with his fingers and finally lighting the cancer stick in his hand. He knew Henry would give him shit about it since he had supposedly quit and all, but right now, he just didn't care. He brought the cigarette to his lips as he came to rest in the doorway of Henry's office, looking out at his two teammates, Logan in particular. "Kim was reactin' to a direct t'reat on Angel. You got no right."

"And if he chose wrong?" Wolverine said gruffly, turning his steel grey eyes on him.

"Well, 'e didn' now, did 'e?"

"You don't know that."

"Don' you? I t'ought you woulda recognized Mary by 'er scent."

"Well, that's the thing. See she was pretty much crisp fried by the time we got there."

"Dat's pretty low, Wolvie boy."

"No, it's where it should be. There's gonna hafta be an investigation. He stays put until then."

"Guilty 'til proven innocent? Baiser-vous, cher. Fuck you!"

Logan growled and took a step, halted only by a big blue hand on his shoulder. "Easy, boys. Let's be men about this," Henry grumbled, disliking any kind of confrontation between teammates, his own conversation with Wolverine had nearly worn him out. These two generally got along, unfortunately it was almost always Kimble that nearly brought them to blows.

Remy was motionless, the picture of calm as he dragged heavily on his cigarette. He exhaled, deliberately blowing the smoke at Logan. "E's out in de mornin' when 'e wakes."

"Not a chance."

Henry sighed, feeling the tension rising in this room. "A woman is dead, Remy. Let Kimble stay in the cell. But you, Logan, will let him charge."

"I said 'no' and I meant it," Logan growled, unrepentant.

Remy shook his head. "I'm goin' to Chuck wit dis, you too prejudiced, homme."

"Go ahead. I spoke with him already. He's backin' me up on this."

"Liar. You didn' 'ave time."

"We discussed it before we ever came here. One big fuck up and Kimble's mine. I'd say this qualifies."

Remy stood up straight and advanced. "You did what? Wit'out consultin' me!"

Logan's eyes met Gambit's challenge. "That's right. Yer too close to Kimble. You refuse ta see him fer what he really is. Time fer an outside opinion. Time fer new management."

"You ain't takin' Kimble from me!" Remy snarled, his facade at emotional control disintegrating. Faster than normal eyes could see, Remy charged the cigarette in his fingers with biokinetic energy and flicked it into Logan's face, causing a diversionary pop. Logan jerked back, temporarily blinded as it exploded in front of his eyes with hot stinging ash. He was caught as Remy reached out, snatching his jacket sleeve, all the better to draw him close into a waiting fist.

Henry bullied his way into the middle of the brawl, doing his best to use his size to block the two opponents. "Remy, your leg, please!" he complained, shoving them apart. "Tell me we can settle this without coming to blows!"

Logan backed up, a look of righteous indignation on his face. His hands were fisted, but he hadn't popped claws just yet. He glared at Remy. "Maybe if you were really watchin' him instead of fuckin' him you'd see just how screwed up he really is! He never should have come out of a holding cell from day one!"

"Disparaissent la baise vous-meme!" Gambit cursed in fluid French and launched with renewed vigor. He swung and caught Logan square across the chin and the fight resumed in earnest as Wolverine was quick to retaliate with a swing of his own. He plowed Remy in the nose, bringing the coppery scent of blood, encouraging him to continue. He swung again, but Remy dodged. The blow went a bit astray and clipped Henry's shoulder.

"That's enough!" Beast thundered, taking a deep breath and reaching his full height. He really was a big man and used that size when he had to. He tossed both men away from each other with enough force to stagger them, especially Remy who was still wobbly on his bum leg. "Both of you! I will personally speak to the Professor and get this worked out. Clearly neither one of you is capable of behaving so I shall speak on your behalf! Now, get out!"

"I want to see Kimble," Remy demanded, retreating under Beast's forceful presence. He sniffed and wiped at his nose, smearing blood across his gloved hand without a thought.

"I'll call you as soon as he wakes."

"Merci. I'll just be outside," the thief replied and started to walk out, his red on black eyes hard.

"Remy?" Henry said, before he got too far. "Call Seth. He rang down here about thirty minutes ago, he was understandably upset. He said to call him on his cell."

" 'Is cell?" Remy blinked in confusion. Seth had never asked him to do this before. It had to be something important. He nodded and was already reaching for his phone as he walked out. He had shut it off, wanting some peace while he waited for Kimble to wake up. The air in the room cleared as soon as he was gone.

Beast smoothed down some ruffled fur. "You do realize your remark was totally uncalled for?" he said to Logan. "What we do in private stays that way."

"Not when it clouds his judgement," Logan countered, but he wouldn't meet Henry's eyes.

"You have no proof of their intimacy," Beast continued to challenge. Quite frankly with Remy's reputation as something of a womanizer before his marriage to Molly, he found the idea of Gambit pairing with Kimble more than a little odd.

Logan snorted derisively, using a blunt, callused finger to tap first his nose and then his ear. "I lived in the same quad as them fer six years. There wasn't nuthin' goin' on in there I didn't know. He an' Kim were pretty hot and heavy right after the repair. I'm still not sure they've ever stopped, the way he defends Kim all of the time."

"That's unfair. Loyalty has nothing to do with intimacy. He and Molly are very close. He would never consciously hurt her like that."

"I know that. I also know just how forgiving she is."

Henry shook his head. "Gambit loves Kimble with the same conviction that you hold him at arm's length. You are both right and both wrong. Kimble needs to be handled delicately. He should be neither locked up nor allowed full freedom. A compromise is in order."

"He's not gettin' out ever again," Logan asserted, his stance firm on the matter.

"We'll see, my friend. We'll see," Henry said with a sorrowful sigh. "Now, leave me. I've had enough disruptions in my lab for one day."

Wolverine nodded and slipped out. He said nothing to Remy who was hovering by the soda machine sipping a Coke and chatting softly on the phone, "I'll come see you after Kim wakes up..."

Logan didn't stop to listen for more, he stalked back to his office and sat heavily in his chair, gritting his teeth. He loved Remy like a brother, but the guy just couldn't see what was right in front of his face. He grumbled curses to himself as he turned on his computer. He pulled up a file, Mary Green, and began to read.

Two lines in he closed his eyes and took a deep breath, thinking back on the fight with a nagging uncertainty. I am not mean.

His inner voice answered, Kimble needed to be isolated. He killed a woman today.

His daughter is my daughter's best friend.

He's going to kill somebody else.

He was defending Angel.

He's dangerous.

He's Molly's best friend. She's a daughter to me. She loves him.

Don't be a fool.

He's never hurt anyone that didn't deserve it in some way, including yourself.

If you let him go, you'll be responsible for whatever he does. How good is his track record, bub?

Logan sighed once more and opened his eyes. "I am not mean," he spoke softly aloud. "But I am responsible." He returned to the file, all doubt gone from his decision.

(break)

Gambit came into the holding cell, a blanket and a fresh set of clothes in his hands. The pilot had been placed in here with no consideration of either need and Remy, feeling fatherly towards his Siskan, was a bit put out by it. Kimble had been in here sleeping for close to five hours, long enough after the "event" to make Remy nervous. Only when the Siskan began to stir did the Cajun thief begin to relax.

It was warm here in the cell, Remy could feel the heat as soon as he walked in. Henry had guessed that Kimble might be cold from his lack of power, it had been so before, but for whatever reason, didn't put in a blanket as well.

Seeing Kimble in here, in yet another padded cell, reminded Gambit of how Kimble had been before the repair, when he had been so damaged and unstable. Kimble had cried then, speaking of death and desiring only to be destroyed. Remy hadn't liked being with Kimble then and he didn't like seeing this now. He wanted Kimble perky and well, he wanted to hear that soft snuffly laughter peppered with the few nasal snorts the Siskan would let go once he was really wound up and chuckling. Kimble's laugh was like powerful medicine for a sick man. He missed it.

Remy had no idea what to expect now that his Siskan was awake. Was he breaking again? Would more than one voice come out of his mouth? That had been so hard to get used to, and something he never wanted to hear again. Kimble had been placed in this padded cell in case he should be violent when he roused, but so far he was giving no sign of freaking out.

Kimble had just woken up and was now sitting up in the middle of the padded room, rubbing his eyes. He looked so small in this big empty room, like a toy tossed into an oversized toy box and neglected. His hair was rumpled and unkempt, but at least someone had seen fit to wash off the blood that had spattered his body during the attack.

Kimble turned as Remy entered, giving him a tired smile. He spoke with a dry raspy voice, "Hey."

"Bonjour, cher. You sleep good?"

"Yeah, but I gots ta charge. I feels real weak."

"Je suis de'sole, little brother. Ol' Wolvie boy say no fo' now. He all worried you gonna power up and fry someone else."

Kimble squinted in confusion. He didn't really remember all that had happened. "Somebody tried ta hurts m' Angel."

"Dat's true, but yo' method of protectin' 'er didn't go over so well with the folks in charge. Dey worried 'bout you. 'Fraid yo' buddy Zander gonna show up again."

Kimble put his head down. "I don't know what wuz gonner happen. I gots no control over it."

"Bein sur, cher. Dat's de problem," Remy replied, sitting down and handing Kimble the blanket and the clothes. Watching Kimble sloppily dress himself, Gambit was mildly curious what Kimble was going to do with the blanket. If he was showing a complete resurgence of his fractured personalities, he might wrap it around his head as shy Lin used to do. Lin had always wanted to hide himself away. With no hiding place available, he had often sheltered under that blanket, making the Siskan look so small and weak. Kimble merely tugged the blanket around himself, not caring that he left half of himself still exposed.

The stifling heat in the cell was getting to Remy, forcing him to remove his coat. He had always dressed in layers, finding New England weather too chilly for his tastes. He had spent most of his youth in New Orleans, loving the heat and sun. No matter how long he had lived in Westchester, he never got used to the cold and snow. They were in Arizona now, but the air conditioning here underground always made him a bit shivery if he was still for too long. Being in this overheated cell reminded him more of home, back in the steamy Southern climes. Most folks would have found the room too warm, but Kimble was covered in a light sheen of goose bumps, his body chilling with no plasma to warm it.

Remy waited until Kimble was situated with his clothing and the blanket and then gently turned the pilot's chin to face him. His voice was soft and sad as he asked, "How long you been 'earin' de voices, cher?"

Kimble shuddered and tried to block out the vibrations coming to him. He was reading Remy's emotions and they were saying, / Gambit's failed you. He done all 'e could, still dis po' t'ief fail you. What does 'e keep doin' wrong?

"I'm okay, Remy. Really. It's only just me in here," he whispered in an attempt to reassure. He leaned forward, intending to kiss Remy's lips since the thief was so close. Kimble wanted nothing more than to curl up in Remy's big, strong arms and forget all of this. Remy took the kiss, but retreated, not allowing anything more. They needed to talk.

"You de worse liar in de world, mon amoureux. You ain't gettin' nuthin' past me. How long?"

Kimble lowered his eyes, disappointed that he wasn't going to allowed to divert Remy away from this topic. "Since the big bombin'. Since Jael done what he done. They ain't been comin' out or nuthin', just...just talkin' ta me," he explained, hoping it would be enough to placate his friend enough that they wouldn't have to keep talking about it.

Gambit swallowed a surge of disappointment and sorrow. He had been hoping against all odds that this had been a fluke, a simple nothing, but he could no longer ignore the fact that Zander had spoken to him mere moments before Mary had been slain. There was just something doubly painful in hearing this admission come from Kimble's lips. It was as if all of the efforts to keep Kimble sane over the past years had meant nothing. That time meant something to Remy, he had suffered more than anyone besides Kimble himself, he had the scars burned on his heart to prove it. Gambit did his best to not let his feelings show and gently probed, "What dey sayin'?"

Kimble shrugged, still unable to look his friend in the eyes. He was much too sensitive to be unaware of Gambit's pain and he was swamped with guilt. He tried to repair some of the damage by saying, "Just that I should be usin' the sword again, just in case. I been practicin', you know? Rememberin' how. Looks like they wuz right. This place wuzn't safe, Remy. No matter what you said. I got...I got tricked by the plasma an' when Zander said it wuz a trap...I just couldn't break free, y' know? So I guess he just finished what I couldn't. I'm sorry."

"You was protectin' yo' Angel. Dat's what you 'ere fo' I guess. Zander de only one been talkin' to you?"

Kimble shook his head slowly. "Lin, too."

"Really?" Remy asked. "Just dem two?"

"Yeah."

Gambit did not believe. Lakotashay was big on pain and the knives from Kimble's shrine made him uneasy. "Mebbe den you can explain what's goin' on in yo' bedroom closet."

"Nuthin'," Kimble replied quietly, his voice so low it almost couldn't be heard. This he did not want to discuss at all.

"You de poorest liar Gambit's ever seen, we already got dat out in de open. Dis is me. Gambit. You start talkin' now. You know I won't 'urt you."

Kimble scrunched up tighter under his blanket, creeping the edge of it higher up his neck, making Remy nervous. "S-sometimes I just git sad thinkin' 'bout all the bad things I done," he said to the floor. He couldn't bear to look Remy in the eyes, not when he was confessing his sins like this. "Them knives is old, from b'fore Grendel. I ain't used 'em since we come here. I don't know why I brung them, maybe just cuz it went along with the pitchers I made. Zander says theys stupid."

Remy reached out, once again tipping Kimble's chin back up so their eyes met. "C'est la ve'rite'. He's right. How many times I gotta ask you dis? Why you always blame yo'self for t'ings dat wasn't yo' fault?"

"None of them things woulda happened if I wuzn't around. You ain't never gonna change m' mind 'bout that so don' even try."

Remy sat back a bit, sick inside from having this same kind of conversation so many times. Kimble had a terrible habit of backsliding like this. He would be good for a while then fall into a deep depression. It was usually these times that he would break down and be intimate with Kimble, just as a means of bringing him back up. That form of treatment was a crutch, Gambit now realized. Perhaps even Kimble had manipulated him into doing so. All Kimble had to do was whimper and he would reach out, eager to soothe. It seemed he was now going to have be smarter than that. He wouldn't break his promise to Molly.

Remy took a deep breath and left self pity behind to use his wits. It wasn't that he wasn't holding up his end, it was Kimble who was lagging behind as always.

/ 'Bout time you realized that, boss, Shi'ow-ri chirped, giving him a mental pat on the back. / Now go to work. /

Remy spoke to his Siskan without missing a beat. "Tell me 'ow Sheyman die from you? Seem ta me you prob'ly kept 'im alive longer dan 'e woulda been wit'out you."

/ Touche', Shi'ow-ri whispered. / You're getting better at this. /

Kim give me lots of practice.

Kimble turned away. "It don't matter."

"Oh, yes it does, cher. Tell me 'ow Bruce die from you? Was me dat made 'im sick, n'est ce pas? You was dere to give 'im comfort an' love when 'e go. You 'elped him good."

Kimble sobbed. "Jael tooks Kristalay's claws, broked him all up inside! That wuz cuz a me!"

"An' you say you know Saby well," Remy chided, shaking his head impatiently. "Dat maudite connard never back down from a challenge. Jael say ta turn you over like it was an order. Creed wouldn't do it like dat. 'E say 'Fuck you' all on 'is own. Don't t'ink he rightly knew what de consequences was gonna be, but it don't matter. 'E do t'ings 'is own way, not 'cause of you, comprenez?"

"It's still my fault."

"Wolvie boy say dat Saby diff'rent from bein' wit you. Diff'rent in a good way. If you an' him never crossed paths, 'e might still be out killin'. I got me an idea dat ol' Saby been really quiet since den," Remy offered.

"You don't know that," Kimble said, still looking away.

/ He doesn't really believe that, Shi'ow-ri whispered. / He's just saying that to argue./

"Actually, Gambit does."

Kimble looked up at him, his pale blue eyes seeking deception.

"Saby useta be real easy to find, you know?" Remy said, laying back on his elbows and getting comfortable. "Just 'ad to follow de trail of dead 'ookers and ripped up drunks. When we found out that Creed got out of SHIELD alive, we had Set' set up some tags, lookin' fo' him."

"So you knew he wuz alive an' you said nuthin' ta me? Even m' own brother knew?" Kimble snorted bitterly. "What else y' ain't been telling me?"

Remy ducked the question and countered with the truth. "You was better off not knowin', cher. It was better you move on and go about livin'."

"Maybe Kristalay wuz off somewheres you couldn't find him."

"P'etetre, but if Saby was out killin' like 'e use' to, 'e woulda showed up sooner or later. Dat's a fact. Yo' brother got our system tied into Interpol and de SHIELD mainframes. If he was anywhere around de worl' slaughterin' like 'e useta done, we woulda picked it up."

Kimble turned away, not satisfied, but didn't have any arguments left.

"Now why don't you tell Gambit what's really on yo' mind."

"I cain't be trusted," Kimble replied in a whisper.

Back on familiar ground, Remy asked the question he had asked so many times before when Kimble got like this. "Why's dat, cher?"

"Cuz peoples git hurt cause of me."

"Angel okay."

"I- I cain't fuck her."

"Bien sur, you 'er daddy."

"No, it ain't even that. If she falls in love with me...when she's bigger...I'll kills her. It might not be me doin' it...but it'll still be m' fault."

Remy shook his head in rueful negation. "You know what yo' real problem is?"

Kimble wiped at his eyes. "What?"

"You been six years on yo' own. You an' me, I got you by now and again but it ain't enough. 'Specially not now when I make a promise ta Molly I ain't gonna break. What you need is a full time lover. Somebody you wake up to every day."

"I-I cain't. Theys all die."

"Sometimes you just 'ave to take chances, cher. Fo' all I know, Molly gonna die tomorrow. She could 'ave a stroke, 'eart attack, anyt'ing. You know we been tryin' for a baby, she could die just bringin' it into dis world."

Kimble shuddered, frightened by the possibility of her dying. "That ain't true!"

"Oh, yes it is, cher. Gambit don't lie about shit like dat. Lots of girls die all de time givin' birt'. It don't stop dem from wantin' to try. Sometimes, just the chance of sumptin' comin' out right is wort' everyt'ing else. You been active since we come here, sleepin' around. You ever give any t'ought to just stickin' by one of dem?"

"I cain't," Kimble insisted stubbornly, not giving an inch on this issue.

"De only one sayin' dat is you."

"I-I couldn't take losin' no one else. They always die!" Kimble snapped, his pale blue eyes growing shiny and wet.

"Sometime de risk is wort' de good dat come in between, hien? You gotta learn to trust."

"It don' matter nohow! I'm gonna be locked up now, this time fer good. It's there in yer shine. Who's gonna want a murderin' piece of Siskan trash like me?" Kimble argued, turning away. He covered his face and finally began to cry in deep gasping sobs.

Remy sat up and put his arms around his friend, pulling him in close. He would never be able to see Kimble cry and not reach out. "I'd want you, cher. If I wasn't taken already. If I would den so would somebody else. Besides, you ain't gonna be in here fo'ever. Gambit's gonna get you out, je promets. Even 'Enry's gonna fight for you."

"Just kills me, just gits it fuckin' over with!" Kimble bawled, not listening. "I'm sorry I wuz ever made! Bein' Siskan ain't nuthin' but a fuckin' curse! I ain't no good fer nuthin!"

Gambit gave him a shake, not letting him go. It hurt so very bad, these words. So much like Lakotashay they were, and similar to words spoken by this Siskan in another padded room long ago. "Why you say dat? Angel de best little girl dere is. You know we got kids at de Institute ain't nuthin' but little brats. She good, she honest, she kind. Dat comes from you bein' a good father. Dat comes from you alone. She don' t'ink you a curse, she t'ink de worl' of you. She would be devastated if you was gone."

Kimble shuddered at the thought of her pain and quieted some. "Where is she?"

"She wit Molly right now. Got a few guards up at our place. Max is dere. Ain't nuthin' gonna happen to 'er."

"I wants her."

"I'll see what I can do. 'Til den you gotta hang. Be good."

"Gotta feed my cat."

"I'll take care of Princess, don' you worry. Dat fat little chat gonna be jus' fine."

"Okay. We'll keeps it small. Keeps it quiet now," Kimble whispered softly, unconsciously using Lin's favorite words as he scrunched the blanket around him more tightly. His wet cheeks were still gleaming and Remy gently brushed them dry, speaking no more words but vibrating love and concern. Kimble needed help, possibly more than he could provide. He needed help himself, the problem was where was he going to find it? Where was the Games Master now? He had no one to turn to for advice.

Remy sat with Kimble until Henry motioned to him that it was time to leave. Kimble was to be kept isolated as much as possible until his potential violence could be determined. Any and all visits would be kept short. Remy was ready to go. He was dead dog tired, the day's events and lack of sleep catching up to him. He just wanted to go home and crash.

Before he could leave, he had one quick chore to take care of. He took a small box out of his coat pocket, the reader for Kimble's tracking device. Remy wanted to be sure the locator was still working properly after Kimble's little plasma trip. No one had anticipated that Kimble would run off and get high, that Zander would appear and kill someone, draining off all that plasma in a matter of minutes. They had no idea how the device would react to the abuse. Gambit used the reader now to do a quick diagnostic and determined the device was still working fine, it seemed Henry and Seth did good work.

Kimble didn't fight him as the device was read, but couldn't stop a vibration of misery. He couldn't help but resent the locator, it was like he was being treated as less than anyone else. To take the sting out of it, Gambit slipped him some chocolate. He always had some around, and smiled when he saw Kimble relax with it and let his resentment fade away. Being so low on power, the Siskan reacted quickly to the sugar and was soon drowsy, dropping off into sleep again. Remy lay him down, tucked him in and left, his head hurting and his heart weary.