Disclaimer: I still own only my characters.

*-*-* Weeping Willow *-*-*

*-* Chapter Two *-*

"If you judge people, you have no time to love them."

~ Mother Theresa

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Willow checked out of the Hospital and stepped out its front doors. She walked across the parking lot avoiding cars and wheelchairs. She emerged on the sidewalk in front of the street, which was packed with cars in the deepening dusk. She was a little scared, and she didn't quite know where to start. All she knew was to accomplish her goal, which was to get to that school.

She walked around the dark, noisy, streets of Seattle for a while, trying to think of what to do first. She decided that it was better if she sat down and tried to figure out a game plan. She found a piece of curb under a street lamp and sat down. She opened the bag that Yolanda had given her and dug through it. She opened the wallet and stuck the money in it. She had counted it earlier and found that she had almost three hundred dollars. She put it in the wallet where she found Yolanda's address and a small, but thick folded paper. She unfolded it and found that it was a United States map. Westchester County was highlighted and off to the side was the address of the school along with a number. Thank you God for someone like Yolanda, Willow thought. She had a long way to go. New York was about as far away as you could get from Washington. She found a phone booth and looked up the Greyhound Bus Station. When she found it, she looked up the address. She'd be walking all night, and if there's one thing any intelligent Seattle dweller knows, it's that you don't walk around there at night. She looked up a cab number, called it, and arranged for a cab to take her there. She waited by the phone booth for almost a half an hour before the yellow cab pulled up. The driver almost glared at her. He had a turban and a hooked nose with a sort of Hitler mustache under it.

"Are you coming or not?" he asked in a grumpy, Indian accent.

"Uh huh," said Willow, opening the back door and throwing her stuff inside. She sat down and buckled her seatbelt.

"Where are we going?" asked the cabby.

"To the Greyhound Station, please," said Willow.

"Do you know how much that is going to cost?" asked the cabby.

"I don't care," said Willow. She wondered what his problem was.

"Alright," he said with a shrug as he drove away from the curb and out into traffic jerkily. The cabby reached over and turned on the radio. It was some sort of news station.

"In other news around the country, a substantial portion of Las Vegas is out of power tonight after a massive energy surge. Not only are the lights out, but all the bulbs are broken too. It may take weeks to get the lights back on. The strip has been unaffected, which has business owners heaving collective sighs of relief. There are no reports on what might have caused such a blackout, but specialists say that this is no natural occurrence and that it may be the work of an unknown mutant. Rallies will most certainly be intensified after a display such as this," the reported said.

"Damned mutants! They cause so much trouble!" cried the cabby.

"Not so much. Plus, you only hear about the bad things," said Willow defensively.

"Well I don't really mind them as long as if they ride in my cab, they pay the fair!" he said, looking at her through the rear view mirror. Willow quickly looked down at her feet and hoped that he didn't decide to wrap the car around a tree or something. She looked up once during the ride at the clock, which read 7:43. The Greyhound Station would be open still. At least she hoped.

"That's 17.60," said the cabby ten minutes later as he parked at the curb with a jerk. Willow gave him a twenty and he gave her the change before she got out. The cab's wheels screamed as it leapt out into traffic again. She looked up at the bus station and could smell diesel from the curb. She walked up cautiously and opened the door. Inside, it smelled like cigarettes and more diesel gasoline. She got in line at the ticket office behind a man in a long light brown trench coat and sunglasses. He had a shock of auburn hair and his face was rough with stubble. He wore a dark blue head band and blue gloves that only completely covered his two middle fingers. He looked down at her from the edges of his sunglasses and grinned slowly.

"Where're you goin'?" he asked, his voice made suave by a Cajun accent.

"New York," Willow said slowly, wondering why someone like him was talking to her.

"The school?" he asked, turning around, raising one eyebrow in question, looking over the top of his glasses. Willow could see why he wore them. His eyes were ruby red, and the parts that were supposed to be white were black. No normal person had eyes like that.

"How did you know?" asked Willow suspiciously, frowning slightly. She didn't know whether to trust this man or not. It was hard to tell with most people.

"Lucky guess, I s'pose," he said with a grin. "I've always been lucky." Willow said nothing. She just looked at him in the eyes with a straight face. She didn't know if she liked this man very much, even if he was a mutant. He held up his hands in playful defense, though his expression remained that of a permanent, suave grin. There was something about him that made Willow's stomach feel like it was full of butterflies.

"Next please," said the woman at the desk. The man turned back around.

"Round trip to Chicago, please," he said.

"Sign these," said the woman giving him a few forms. He signed them quickly with a particularly loopy signature.

"There y'are," he said. She entered a few things into a computer, and it spit out a ticket in front of her.

"Here you are. 49.99. Thank you. Next please!" she said, cutting off the man's thank you. Willow walked up to the counter.

"Where to?" asked the woman.

"Albany, New York, please." said Willow.

"Th' school i'nt in Albany, if I hear right," the man whispered in her ear.

"Shh, I know," said Willow, turning around to his grinning face. "Can't you just...go sit down, or something?" She found him nearly annoying. He gave her a wink and went to sit down in one of the seats in the office. He put his arms around the two seats next to him and crossed his legs. Willow rolled her eyes.

"The only one we got to Albany isn't round trip. First it goes to Chicago, then to Albany. Boston's afterwards, but I suppose you don't care about that," she drawled.

"It's alright, as long as it goes to New York," said Willow.

"Sign these," said the woman, sliding a form in front of her. "You are eighteen, aren't you?" asked the woman with a raised eyebrow.

"Yes. My house burned down last week, so I don't have any identification," said Willow. That was all she could say. If she tried it again, she'd start crying. The woman nodded gravely. Willow looked over the form, but didn't really read it. She signed the bottom and gave it back to the woman.

"That'll be 60.00 even," she said. Willow winced. She'd already spent almost eighty dollars and she wasn't even out of Seattle yet. She handed the woman the money, who stuck it in a cash register. Willow's ticket popped out of the slot in front of the woman. She extracted it and gave it to Willow.

"Thank-,"

"Next!" cried the woman. Willow was quite flustered that she didn't even let her say thank you. She turned to go sit down and the man was still sitting the same way he had been. Willow sighed and sat as far away from him as possible. She turned her back to him and waited to be called to board the bus. She could feel his eyes boring into her back. Don't turn around, it'll only encourage him, she told herself. She watched the large, lit clock until it was eight-fifteen.

"Chicago, Albany, and Boston," said the voice over the intercom. "Please proceed to the loading area. Give any non-carry-on luggage to the man at the door and it will be put on the bus. Goodnight, and have a good trip." Willow got up and walked towards the loading area quickly. She showed the driver her ticket and she walked to the back of the bus. She got comfortable and buckled her seat belt as the other passengers boarded the bus. Oh no..., Willow thought with a groan. She saw an auburn head above the rest of the passengers. When he saw her he smiled.

"We meet again," he said.

"I've got pepper spray in here, you know," she said, motioning to her pack.

"Y'mean this pepper spray?" he asked, holding up the can. Willow's jaw dropped.

"That's mine!" she cried.

"I was gonna give it back, chere, don't be mad. I knew dat I'd be seein' you again," he said giving in back to her. She snatched it away and stuffed it in her bag with a scowl. He smiled and chuckled. "You act like you bein' harassed," he said as he sat down next to her.

"I am being harassed," she said, trying to scoot closer to the window.

"Nah, if I wanted t'harrass you, I'da done it by now," he said with a broad grin. "Besides, talkin' ain't quite harrassin' in my personal opinion." Willow stayed silent. "By de way, I forgot to give you my name," he said. "Remy LeBeau. Most call me Gambit."

"Others might call you slimy," said Willow.

"Hey, now, lots o' women would pay big bucks for me to sit by 'em. What's your name, anyway?" he asked.

"Willow," she said bluntly.

"A beautiful name for a beautiful face," he said with a grin.

"Look, I'm only eighteen, and I think you're much too old to be hitting on me," said Willow in a matter-of-fact tone.

"Can't help it, chere, dat's de way I am," he said. "Did your mother teach you t'be so blunt with people?"

"My mother is dead," said Willow looking down into her lap.

"I see," he said. "I'm sorry I even went bringin' it up. If it isn't too much, how long ago was it?"

"Last week," said Willow quietly. She would not cry in front of someone like him. She hated crying in front of anyone. It made her feel like a baby.

"Alright, folks, this is your driver speaking. I hope you're ready for a long ride, because we've got a good twenty eight hours between us and Chicago," said the driver. Willow groaned. Twenty-eight long hours until Remy LeBeau/Gambit would be gone. "There are bathrooms located at the rear of the bus, and we'll only be stopping twice between here and Illinois. Each stop will be a half an hour which you may use to buy food and or drink. You may take your refreshments onto the bus if you're very careful and do not spill. Thank you for your patience, and we'll get under way." The bus began to move and its passengers began to chat and visit with each other. The uncomfortable silence between Willow and Remy was becoming unbearable, and Willow was beginning to feel sorry for all the things she had said to him. It ate away at her four a few minutes, but she felt odd apologizing.

"I really am sorry about your mother," he said, looking down at her behind his sunglasses.

"It's alright. I'm sorry that I haven't been very nice to you. I guess if we're gonna be on a bus together for a day and some odd hours, we oughta be pleasant to each other," said Willow. "I hate to be mean to people, I really do. But I never have any luck with people I don't know."

"Truce?" he asked holding out his hand.

"Yeah, okay," said Willow with half a smile as she shook his hand. He had a firm but gentle grip. The butterflies took flight again.

"So," he said. "What is it you do?"

"I grow things," said Willow, her tone of voice a little lighter and friendlier.

"Grow things...," Gambit repeated slowly with a raised eyebrow.

"Like plants," said Willow.

"Ah," said Remy with a nod. "You look like a plant growin' type, what with th' greenish brownish hands. I bet dat come in handy."

"It doesn't. Not really," said Willow. "So far all it's done is mess everything up."

"Yeah, well, you prolly find some kinda use for it one'a these days," he said.

"Yeah," muttered Willow. "Well, I'm kinda sleepy. I just got out of the hospital, so I should probably rest a little bit."

"What were y'in the hospital for?" asked Gambit.

"Burns. My house was burned down," Willow told him. He put two and two together.

"I bet you were th' one dat got attacked by da anti-mutant terrorists," he said nodding. "I heard about dat on de evenin'news a while ago."

"Yes," she said quietly. She shifted her weight around in the seat until she was comfortable. "G'night."

"S'you tomorrow," Remy said with one of his suave grins. Willow closed her eyes and tried her best to fall asleep without nightmares. Willow woke up once during the night when Remy's head hit her shoulder in his sleep. He didn't wake, even though his cheek was smashed against her shoulder. His hair had fallen onto her neck, so she shifted it so it wouldn't tickle her. She thought several times of waking him up, and had an impulse or two of shoving him off her, but she let him sleep there until he rolled over in his seat again.

Willow woke up the next morning, a little groggy and intensely hungry. She got up and went to the bathroom, edging past a still sleeping Remy LeBeau. When she came back he was awake and greeted her with a large yawn. She sat back down and pulled her bag out from under the seat. She opened it and pulled out one of the sandwiches Yolanda had packed her.

"You gonna share dat?" asked Remy.

"What'll you give me for it?" asked Willow with a mischievous grin.

"Will a little bit of Remy do da job?" he asked smiling sweetly at her.

"I don't think so," she said, playing with him a little bit. She ripped the sandwich in half and gave on of the pieces to him.

"Your generosity disgusts me," he said as he took a large bite out of the sandwich.

"Yeah, well, I like your face," said Willow.

"Most women do," he said through a mouthful of roast beef. He swallowed loudly. "You seem nicer dis morning. I think you jus' needed a little sleep."

"Probably so," said Willow.

"I can't blame y'for bein' cranky. You been through quite a bit for so young," said Remy.

"Well thank you for your sympathy," Willow said almost sarcastically.

"I think you need a little sympathy," he said. "Or a little Remy, whichever happens t'come first," he teased.

"Hmm, denied," joked Willow. He grinned.

"Maybe you do have a sense a'humor," he said. "I don't think dis bus ride's gonna be so bad." Willow noticed that she really had been joking around and even feeling better. She was actually smiling. Maybe life could get better. Maybe she wasn't as alone as she thought.

The day passed along slowly, and the bus stopped once at noon. Remy and Willow found a gas station where he bought some chocolate Hostess doughnuts, beef jerky, and a coke.

"You want anyt'ing, chere?" he asked.

"No, I'm good," she said.

"No?" he asked. "Not even a drink? I noticed dat you didn't have any water or anything in dat pack of yours."

"I guess you would know, diggin' around in there on the sly," Willow said with a grin.

"Seriously," Gambit said.

"Don't spend your money on me," said Willow sternly.

"Fine, I'm gonna jus' pick somethin' for you," he said looking through the drinks. He opened the door and picked out an iced tea. "I hope you like dis stuff." He paid for the food and they returned to the bus. He ended up sharing his doughnuts and jerky with her. The bus bumped along for another ten hours in which Willow and Remy exchanged stories of funny things that had happened to them, and even about their pasts. Willow was not at all surprised to hear that Remy had been a thief as a child, but she felt sorry for him. He seemed to really hate all the things he had done. She felt reluctant to do so, but when she thought back on sixth grade, she decided to tell him about the sorts of things that used to happen to her.

"Get her! Get her!" cried the laughing children around them. Two eighth grade girls were staring Willow down viciously as they circled her. One moved in and ripped her backpack from her shoulders, sending it skidding across the floor. Willow's face contorted with fury. One of the girls had long nails, and lashed out at her with them, ripping Willow's skin open. Dark red blood dripped onto the tiled floor. The other joined in, knocking her to the ground, pulling out chunks of green hair. Willow was having a hard time fighting back at all with two of them. She was overwhelmed with fear, pain, and anger. She couldn't take it anymore. She had no idea how it happened or what came over her, but suddenly, she struck one of them in the nose with the palm of her hand. The girl recoiled as Willow managed to send the other one sprawling on the floor with a painful kick to the back of the head. When both of them were off her, she leapt up onto her feet from lying on her back. She looked down them, eyes glaring and glowing a neon green, her hands balled into fists.

"Never touch me again," she said to them. They looked up at her, one bleeding, the other holding the back of her head looking dazed. Both bore expressions of absolute terror. Her eyes returned to brown just as three teachers ran to the scene. She had broken the one girl's nose, and the other had a concussion. Willow was expelled.

When Willow told him about her grade school years, he seemed angry.

"You're too nice a girl to be treated like dat," he told her.

"Yeah. I was home schooled for the rest of that year. I tried Middle School for a couple months, but I came home too often with bruises and split lips," Willow explained.

"Eh, I bet those little punks didn' know what da hell dey were dealin' wit. I bet you'll grow up, find a nice guy, have kids. Beat all doze little punks at life. You'll have one'a those good lives dat er'yone else wishes dey had."

"I hope so," said Willow. "But right now it's hard to see the light at the end of the tunnel, you know?" Gambit nodded, completely understanding.

The bus arrived at Chicago early Saturday morning. Willow found herself almost in tears to see Remy leave. He had been an excellent, amusing companion to her, and she didn't much want to go the rest of the way without him.

"Don't you cry for me, chere, I'm not worth it," he said as he got up. He smiled at her and held her chin between his index finger and thumb. "You stay strong like you been doin'. Maybe you'll see ol' Remy again sometime." She nodded with a smile as he ruffled her hair. He reached into his trench coat pocket and pulled out her can of pepper spray. "You might need dis now," he said tossing it to her playfully. She hadn't even noticed that it was gone. She grinned sadly and held onto it. He stepped out into the isle and got in line with the rest of the passengers as they filed off the bus. Willow flattened the hair that Remy had ruffled askew as she watched him go. He got off the bus and stood out of the way. The bus's doors closed up and the wheels began to turn again. Willow watched out the window and made eye contact with Remy LeBeau for the last time as he watched the bus leave the station.

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How was that for Gambit? Please tell me if I got his accent and mannerisms right! The next chapter mark's Kurt's entrance.