Disclaimer: Don't own Gambit; do own pretty much everyone else.

A/N: Please read and review?

10

Two weeks later

The weather had cooled over the last few days and nights. Small cotton wool clouds dotted the azure sky. The surf had improved, bringing with it a gentle breeze from offshore that smelt of brine and cool water. Blaze had done things these past weeks that she had never dreamed of when she arrived here. Keeping up her pretence of being a tourist, she had let Lance show her the sights of his city. They had seen the Springboks play, dined on local delicacies, and Blaze had developed a taste for South African wine. They had even climbed Table Mountain, and the panoramic view from the summit had taken Blaze's breath away. In short she was having fun, and it was all down to Lance.

Tonight she was supposed to be meeting him in a quaint café bar the locals seemed to love. He was late; he'd phoned ahead and left a message to say as much. Delayed at work. No matter how persuasive Blaze got, he kept working. He also never talked about his work, said he liked to keep his private life and work separate. Blaze agreed with the principle, she hardly wanted to talk about her work either.

Not that Blaze was working particularly hard recently. It wasn't just that she was busy seeing the sights either. As long as Gambit kept himself occupied with Electra, Blaze was staying out of their way. If they hadn't been cheapskates and rented their new apartment together, she would probably never run into them. Of course it was hard to totally lose someone you knew as well as Blaze knew Gambit. Still Blaze was relishing however paltry a chance it was to have her own independence. She hoped Remy was missing her.

"We need to talk, c'mon," Lance appeared halfway through Blaze's daydream of Gambit begging her to lavish some attention on him. Improbable as it was, she was quite enjoying it. Lance's tone and his interruption made her scowl at him without meaning to. "What? Why?"

"Not here," Lance shook his head, "C'mon."

"No, I'm happy here," Blaze indicated to her full glass of wine. It was clear and honeyed yellow, smelling sweet and tantalising. "Anything you have to say, sit down and say it Lance."

"You lied to me," he started, sliding into the seat opposite and meeting Blaze's eyes with so much hurt and disbelief in his face she had to look away. "You're name isn't Ella, you're no student…"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Blaze lied, forcing herself to look at him again. Something was very wrong here. How could he know she'd been inventive with the truth?

"You call yourself Blaze. You're an international thief, working with an American called Gambit. You're wanted in a…a stupid amount of countries for crimes ranging from petty theft to…to blackmail and heists of priceless artwork! I know who you are don't lie to me anymore, please."

Blaze picked up her glass and took a sip of the soothing liquid. She was going to need it. The option of insisting she was innocent vanished with that calmest of actions. Yet he knew too much. To insist that he was wrong would only dig her a deeper hole. Better to try and salvage something, to at least haul out of him where this spontaneous knowledge had come from. "Who told you all this?" she enticed gently, meeting his eyes and holding them. "Who have you been talking to Lance?"

He sighed, a deep and mournful sigh. Ever since Gus had shown him the identikit images of the alleged mutants Henrick had described, Lance had hoped she would deny it. He'd spent today tracking down all he could on this femme fatal thief and her partner. What he'd learned had been excruciating for him. She had told him nothing about herself that was true, and now she wasn't even attempting to play innocent. It was almost too much for Lance to accept.

"It doesn't matter," he moaned, setting his jaw stubbornly. "Just be satisfied that I know too much for my own peace of mind. How many countries have you committed crimes in anyway? France, Germany, Italy, Australia, what am I missing?"

"Why does it matter?" Blaze retorted in reply, and then wished she hadn't.

"It matters because you lied to me!" Lance hissed. There were probably much more powerful and heady reasons why what she had done was shameful, but that was the only one that interested him at the moment. "How do I know that anything you've told me is real? I mean, as far as I know you've been with me, then gone back and given this Gambit guy the same treatment!"

"For fuck's sake!" Blaze exclaimed, "He's just a mate!"

"So you're not denying that you know him then?" Lance accused her balefully. "Just how old are you really anyway?"

"Eighteen," Blaze confessed, then winced as he put his head in his heads.

"Blaze, I'm eight years older than you!"

"So?"

"So how did an eighteen year old learn half the things you did with me!"

"Oh please," Blaze rolled her eyes. "I may only be eighteen, but I've not been innocent for a long time Lance, don't worry about that."

"It's just no good," Lance stuttered, still in distress, "Ell… I mean Blaze, I'm going to have to arrest you."

"What do you mean?" Blaze felt a chill wash over her and she shivered. Her stomach turned over and she clenched her jaw so hard her teeth hurt. She already knew the answer.

"I'm a police officer. We've got your description in connection with drugs offences after a raid we made two weeks ago."

"Henrick," Blaze hugged herself, leaning back in the chair. "Bastard."

"Henrick," Lance nodded. "We couldn't work out where he got the drugs from, or why he tried to sell them to Fallon, until he gave us the description of one of Fallon's regular girls."

"Electra," Blaze nodded. "She's screwing Gambit now. Fallon had her beat up in front of the wrong bloke."

"Why?" Lance shook his head, "You're intelligent, beautiful, charming. Why resort to crime? Why spend your life with losers like Henrick, Electra, and this Gambit guy doesn't sound much better…"

"Look at me Lance, there's something important about me that you haven't acknowledged yet," Blaze waited for him to meet her expressionless face. "I'm a mutant. You knew that about me before you know anything else. You knew when you woke up with blisters on your skin where I'd touched you. You ignored your suspicions. You didn't want to know what I am. The truth is, because I'm a mutant I've no home to go to, no family, no qualifications, no job and no hope of a normal life like you have. Crime's all I got, that and Gambit.

"You want to arrest me," she continued as if it was of no consequence to her. "Go for it. I guarantee any judge and jury out there will lock me up. Then who knows what will happen to me. You're a cop, what do they do to mutants in jail? Drug them up, keep them in solitary confinement, experiment on them… How many don't make it to the end of their sentences? How many are locked up and the key thrown away?"

"I…I don't know," Lance stuttered.

"You could just let me leave," Blaze suggested. "Gambit and I can get out of the country, disappear so you never need hear of us again." He didn't move, so she downed her wine, pushed back her chair and made to stand. She was halfway to the door before he called out to her.

"Wait, Blaze," he stood too, and crossed the floor to take her wrist. "I can't let you leave."

Blaze didn't fight him. She just looked at him with her big Bambi eyes and very sincerely asked, "Is this going to involve handcuffs?"