Home Series Epilogue
No Place Like Home
Chapter Five
I fall into old habits far too easily. I've been back amongst my friends for just over twenty four hours and everyone wants a piece of me and my time. Logan's still permanently attached to me – I have to prize him off me just so I can pee in peace! I love him dearly, but his physical closeness after over a year alone is already becoming a little stifling. Scott's already trying to rope me in to training sessions, teaching schedules and staff rotas. I try to fob Scott off a little – I still feel out of sorts in my own skin never mind anything else. In the end, it's Logan who growls at him to leave me alone until I've at least settled in and caught my breath. Scott retreats rapidly. Sometimes Logan's trademark grumpiness is useful.
Hank's arrival after a couple of days away is as noisy and enthusiastic as ever, and his greeting sweeps me of my feet, literally. He is one of my Godfathers, a true friend to both myself and my father. His stunned reaction to seeing me – how did he not get the memo? – is to pick me up and spin me round again and again until I'm positively dizzy.
"It's been too long since there was an Xavier in Westchester, my dear! How are you?"
By the time the inconsequential stuff is over, Hank is as bad as Scott, wanting me to attend a genetics conference the following week. I decline politely, telling Hank that I want to spend some time settling back in, getting to know the new residents and finding my place again. I might be a trained doctor with a passion for genetics but I'm five years out of the loop and honestly, I'm not convinced I want to get involved in it all again. My devotion to both my scientific and Guardians research drove a wedge between myself and my friends on more than one occasion, which isn't something I want to repeat now that I've been given a second chance. I don't really know what I want, but I know what I don't, if you follow me? I don't tell Hank all this, I'm still getting used to using my voice again and such a long-winded explanation feels beyond me just then. I just use the shorter reasoning, and Hank seems disappointed, but says he understands.
Thanking my lucky stars that Scott is a stickler and won't let Logan get out of taking his Phys Ed classes; I go in search of Gambit. My heart has been heavy in me since the day I left the X-Men, and with more than just my regrets at leaving Logan and all my friends. I made Gambit think he had killed me. He was the Key – the one who took the power of the Ancients and charged it with his power, breaking its bond with me and loosing it for the Guardians to take on. Only in doing so, I vanished along with it; trotting out of the temple with Ori while they were all still coming to terms with their new found powers and their loss. The four of us were always great friends, despite the usually good natured teasing and tormenting. Gambit must have suffered a great deal, and I deeply regret my part in his suffering.
"Vixen!" Storm waylays me, little Hana in her arms. Hana reaches for me, and is immediately off-loaded into my grasp. I smile as the little girl cuddles me close. I've never been fond of children, never understood them, but under the usual child scents of children's shampoo and finger paint, little Hana smells like fresh rain on dry grass; she has an infectious little smile and already seems to have bonded with me. Storm tilts her head affectionately and smiles at her daughter before looking at me. "I took the liberty of ordering some clothes and bits for you; I know how much you hate shopping. They should be here this afternoon. How are you this morning?"
"Doing better by the minute, thanks." I answer smoothly. It's not quite a lie. I don't tell her that just walking upright is killing my back, legs and hips after five years of running on four legs, and how much pain just holding Hana is causing. The discomfort of wearing borrowed clothing – it was either that or wear my X-Men uniform all day - makes me all the more grateful for Storm's thoughtfulness. "And thank you. Shopping's the last thing I need right now. Actually, I'm looking for Gambit, have you seen him?"
Storm hasn't. She takes Hana back, much to the relief of my spine, and leaves me to my search. Not long after, I get stopped again by Iceman and Shadowcat. Bobby's as enthusiastic about training schedules as Scott, and I demur, asking him to give me a little time. Shadowcat smiles warmly and asks if I'm doing okay.
"Better, thanks." I answer. I don't tell them about the embarrassment of how I woke up freezing cold and naked on the front lawn because I'd slept outside in wolf form, unable to bear sleeping under a roof, and I'd Shifted back into human form in my sleep. Luckily, Logan had been with me and his clothed body had provided a little warmth and a shield from the mansion's windows. "Have you seen Gambit?"
Shadowcat tells me she saw him in the gym not too long ago. I smile my thanks and clap Iceman on the shoulder as I leave them. I make my way to the gym where, sure enough, the slightly spicy scent of Gambit's sweat is strong despite him having wiped down the equipment after using it, but the Cajun himself is gone. I sigh, set my shoulders and move on.
Jubilee collars me with some of the younger students as I head up to Blaze and Gambit's room. She wants to hold a party to celebrate my return. I say no, firmly. I don't do parties and I don't do being the centre of attention, though somehow I often manage it. A welcome home party would mean both. Just being accosted as I walk down every damn corridor is getting too much. She wheedles and whines. Says they don't have too many occasions to celebrate, and how often does someone come back from the dead? I want to be glib and tell her to ask Logan – he must be pretty much resurrected twice a week. Instead, I acquiesce.
"I have three conditions, Jubilee." I warn her darkly.
"Awwww." She thinks I'm kidding, I can tell from her grin.
"I'm serious."
"I can cope with three." She nods eagerly.
"One, plenty of food. Two, no trance 'music'." She nods to both of these as I tick them off on my fingers. Loads of food is a must at any X-Men party; we all eat like pigs, but then the training we do balances it out. Some are worse than others, I think to myself with a smile, like Blaze whose fire mutation requires her to eat copious calories just to feed her abilities, and Logan who can eat like several pigs and never put on an ounce of weight. So not fair. My mutation and wolf like nature bar me from eating things like raisins, and I'm gluten intolerant, but I can still eat pretty well as long as I train hard. I'm underweight from my recent life as a lone wolf, so I can get away with it for now. Trance 'music' (I use the term lightly!) is a hard no, as it offends the sensitive hearing of those of us with predatory hearing – myself, Logan, Wolfsbane, Ivy and a couple of others.
"Deal. What's the third?"
"NO balloons!"
She laughs, but then sees the look in my eyes and puts a reassuring hand on my arm. Agreeing easily to all three demands, she vanishes, taking her entourage with her. I shudder. I hate balloons, to the point of it being a phobia. They are one of the few things in the world, like fireworks, that can make me jump out of my skin. The loud bangs unsettle me for hours after they've happened. I shudder again, before setting my shoulders and continuing my search for the very elusive Gambit. I'm beginning to think the Cajun's avoiding me.
The door to their room is ajar, and I can hear Blaze humming lowly. I tap on the door softly so as not to startle them. The humming ceases and Blaze calls a quiet 'come in'. I pop my head round the door to see Blaze sat in bed, one hand on her slowly growing bump and the other stroking Gambit's shoulder and arm gently. The Cajun himself is asleep on his side facing his wife, his head on the pillow below Blaze's arm and his hand not quite touching hers on her stomach.
"Ilehana!" Blaze seems surprised to see me, but keeps her voice soft. I smile fondly at the pair. "Did you want something?"
**Actually, I wanted to speak to Gambit.** I am hesitant to use my telepathy, unsure of my strength. I have used it deliberately only with Logan – he's harder to break, won't settle for anything less than all of me and I have no desire to hide anything from my love ever again – but I really don't want to disturb the obviously exhausted Gambit. Blaze tenses her arm as if she's about to shake him awake. **No, Blaze, don't wake him. It can wait.**
**Thank you.** She tells me gently.
**No problem. See you later.**
I withdraw, closing the door softly. I turn and can hear Jean walking towards me, I can tell it's her by the pattern of her footsteps and the stink of that cheap perfume she insists on dousing herself with. I very nearly bolt in the opposite direction. Jean and I have never got on, and I haven't actually come across her since my return. I think, towards the end of the Guardians quest, Jean and I developed a wary respect for one another, but I'm still not sure what to say to her.
"Vixen!" She actually hugs me. I can't return it, going as stiff as a board in her embrace, such is my surprise. "It's so good to have you back! Everyone's missed you."
"Thanks, Jean." I'm relieved when she lets me go. I hush her with a motion of my hand, putting a finger to my lips as I jerk my head towards Blaze and Gambit's door. I lead her away to leave them in peace. She talks as we walk.
"Have you been down to Cerebro yet?"
"No." I answer shortly. There are many reasons why, the main one being that I haven't had a second to myself since I got back, but also how much it reminds me of the absence of my father. Then something in me relents and I blurt out a confession. "In all honesty, I don't know how strong my telepathy is right now. When I had the power for the Guardians, I was the strongest telepath alive. Now… I don't know." I don't know why I'm confessing weakness to my life-long rival. It's not something I would dream of normally. But Jean is the only other telepath in the mansion now, the only one who might begin to understand. I suddenly realise how much she empathises when she looks at me shyly.
"I know how you feel." She confesses. "I was the same after Phoenix left me. Give yourself time, Ilehana. I'm here if you want to test it at any point."
"Thank you." My words are very soft. I still don't like her – old habits die hard after all - but I'm grateful to her.
I'm walking the corridors with Logan when I finally catch up with Gambit the following morning. He looks at me with an expectant expression. I say his name softly, and we both know we can't put the conversation off any longer, that I won't put it off. I give Logan a pointed look and a physical and telepathic nudge.
**Give me a few minutes with him, please?**
"Oh, right, I need to…" He speaks aloud for Gambit's benefit, but trails off for a second as he tries to think of an excuse. In the end, he just shrugs. "…be somewhere else." He trudges off, giving Gambit a pointed 'behave' look. The Cajun and I grin awkwardly, rolling our eyes at one another. I lead the way to my father's – my – study offering him a seat on the couch next to me. He looks as though he might refuse, and then shrugs and flumps into the seat with a small sigh.
"Gam… Remy…" I change my mind and use his real name at the last second, shifting my body so I'm facing him. "I wanted to apologise to you. I never should have asked you to…"
"To kill you?" He asks pointedly when I trail off. I nod once. He thinks for a moment. "Did you know? Did you know that you were goin' to live?"
"I had a hunch." I answer honestly. "The texts were all very specific. The Chosen One had to give up their human life for the power of the Guardians. Every single translation had the word 'human' in, but I couldn't be sure."
"An' you couldn't have told me?"
"No." I reply slowly. "What was I supposed to say? That I don't think you're going to kill me by doing this, but hey, if it does, no hard feelings?" I sigh. "It really was killing me, Remy. The power of the Guardians was never meant to be held by one individual. My mind and body could never hope to contain it. The power was divided between the seven, and I suspect that even you benefitted a little." He nods slowly, agreeing. "Can you imagine the guilt of carrying that knowledge, the knowledge that I lived and could not return, and not share it? Because I've lived it, Gambit. For five long years, I've lived it. "
"You t'ink I'm a stranger to guilt?" He comes back at me, his expression twisting into a frown. "I only carried the guilt of killin' you, Vixen. Watchin' Wolverine grieve, knowin' he hated me. The only reason he didn't kill me was because a part of him refused to believe you was dead… an' maybe because he knew it was your life's work; that it was what you wanted."
Gambit's eyes meet mine about half way through this little speech. He's furious. Of course he's angry. But what he says flares something in me I had long since thought dead. I fight it, not wanting to be angry with Remy. He doesn't deserve it. I can't remember the last time I got really mad. I think it was probably when the Pack banished me. That thought fans the flame and I let go.
"Wanted? You think I wanted to leave him?" I snarl the words at him. "You think if I had had any choice, I would have given up the man I have loved so much for so long, my friends – you and Blaze? My home? I was dying, Remy. I was under the influence of an age old power that was going to kill me, one way or another."
I run out of words and the anger fades as quickly as it came. I have to look away, ashamed. I'm suddenly fighting tears, and I have to stand, to go to throw open the window and look out over the grounds. I need to feel nearer to the outside because the walls are starting to close in. The fresh air helps a little. "I'm sorry." I tell him flatly, without looking at him. My head hangs. "I should have found another way."
"From what you told me, Cherie, is not like we had a choice." Gambit comes up behind me, gripping my shoulder. I flinch instinctively, suddenly afraid, and I'm not used to fearing much, especially my friends. But then, the last time he held me in a grip like that, he charged me with his power. Gambit releases me quickly, though whether because of my reaction or because the touch brings back bad memories for him too, I'm not sure. I turn and look into eyes.
"I don't believe we did." I reply slowly, and I manage a wobbly, wry smile. "I still should have found another way."
"You could've come back sooner, maybe? Five years a real long time…" He makes to touch my arm again, but then thinks better of it.
"I couldn't." I reply firmly. "The deal was that I gave up my life. It meant severing all human contacts. Could you have kept it from Blaze? Or Logan? I know he's been more than miserable, and I know you've all suffered because of it, as well as because of your own grief. If Logan had had any inkling that I survived, other than his blind faith in me, he would never have stopped looking. I'd have spent my life running from him instead of running with the Pack, because to have any sort of contact with you all was to break the deal. It would have meant losing the power of the Guardians and my life."
"It's hard to explain, Gambit. I've been keeping an eye on you all since the Pack cast me out, lending my strength where I could without being discovered. When I used to do my research of the Guardians, I used to get these feelings, like I had to go somewhere, had to find something. It would take over my world, I couldn't ignore it. I haven't felt that since that day in China… until the other day. When I rescued Wolverine and Cyclops, I was sure that I was going to die. I broke the covenant, I tore up the contract by killing that mutant… But they set me free instead. They allowed me to come home."
Gambit stares out the window, hands in his pockets, and I perch on the edge of the desk, waiting for him. There's obviously something that he's debating telling me, that he's trying to make sense of. I hope he still trusts me enough to speak. His eyes narrow for a while, then widen again as he sighs. I suddenly realise that he, too, is looking for forgiveness. Clemency for what he did to me, for not being able to say no to me, for getting swept up in my madness and not being the voice of reason. Oh, Gambit, I think, how much you've grown. He doesn't look at me as he begins to speak, just gazes out of the window, as if it helps him to imagine I'm not even there.
"It was like something outta my nightmares. It was like it wasn't me in control of my power." He says, slowly and quietly. I've never known this Gambit before, the vulnerable side. "I never willed it to happen, I didn't want it to. I didn't wanna be the one to… It jus' happened."
I stand and move so I am standing behind his shoulder. I rest my hand between his shoulder blades in what I hope he will take as a gesture of comfort. His back and shoulders are tense. I say nothing, but a single tear rolls down my cheek. I think I have broken this good man with my quest, with the end of my life's work. How he can even be stood here with me now proves what a good man he has become, because I know I couldn't do the same in his place. I'd have been gone the instant I saw me, running as far from me as possible. He swallows hard, as if the action can rid himself of his discomfort and guilt. He steps aside, moving out from my touch, and turns to look at me. He asks me if he hurt me, and I know he doesn't mean just now.
Wolves don't lie, and I am no exception. The closest we come is avoiding the question or an absence of information. Although I am no longer a wolf, I have held their beliefs since the first time I came across the Pack. I can lie, I am more than capable of it, but I find it so hard. I have never, to my knowledge, lied to Gambit before, and he knows it. But now I do; now I don't have a choice. I look him straight in his red-on-black eyes and I lie to his face.
"Not a bit, Remy, the power protected me." I offer him a little smile, and I know from the relief on his face that he believes me, or at least believes that I would never lie to him. I know I can't tell him the truth – if I did, I'd break him all over again; I can't tell him how I felt fire and acid burn through my skin, my muscles, through my veins, from the top of my head to the very tips of my fingers and toes, tearing me apart from the inside-out. It was only for an instant, a second, but I have never known agony like it. I sincerely hope no-one ever does again.
"It was like being transported in Star Trek." I answer him further. "One second I was by the Altar, the next I was at the back of the hall with Ori." That much is true. I have no memory of how I got from the front to the back of the hall. Remy remains silent and I have to break the awkwardness. "We did what we had to, Remy, both of us. I have never blamed you for your part in it; that's my burden to bear, not yours. I hope that, someday, you can forgive me, Gambit. I'd really like us to still be friends."
There's a long pause, and I'm about to tell Remy that he doesn't have to say anything now, that I'll wait and earn his trust back if I can, when he smiles. He runs a finger down my arm, in one single long stroke that causes my skin to shiver. I stifle the urge to giggle that the tickling sensation causes as he takes my hand. He holds my gaze as he speaks.
"Of course I forgive you, Cherie. We always bin good friends. Buy me a beer, we call it even." Gambit raises my hand and kisses the backs of my fingers gently. How can he forgive me so easily?
I hug him to me impulsively, wondering how I can hug him without fear, but the grip of his hand on my shoulder scares me so. He holds me back just as tightly, his tension gone. I sense so much from him though I am not prying. He's relieved that the conversation is done, but there's something deeper there, almost fear, though I suspect it's not aimed at me. I want to ask him if he's okay, if there's something he wants to talk about, but I know I'll just be rebuffed. Gambit despises most telepaths. I count myself extremely lucky that he both likes and trusts me, and I'd rather he didn't know what I'd sensed from him. I'm definitely not the one to tackle this. I'll speak to Blaze at the party later, if I don't get the chance before. I have an idea as to what it's about and who might be the best person to speak to him. We smile at each other as we break apart, and I am glad that we are friends.
Something else crosses my mind as I'm thinking about the beers – because I definitely owe him more than one – that I need to buy Gambit. I grin as I hear Logan shuffling his feet outside the door. He's thinking that he's not trying to eavesdrop, honest, just waiting to get me back in his arms. I sigh. That awkward conversation will have to wait. I feel drained but elated at the same time as I call him in. His face is dark as he enters the room, as if he expects to find Gambit and I in a clandestine embrace. Temptation flickers across Gambit's face, causing Logan to give him a jealous glare as the Cajun relaxes against the window, his hands back in his pockets. Logan's face brightens up as I grin at him.
"You owe the Cajun a beer." I chuckle.
"Wait, what, why?" Logan asks, confused. Gambit looks at me with raised eyebrows.
"Well, apparently I owe him one, but I'm officially dead. I left the mansion and the school to the faculty and my money to you before we went to China, Logan. I'm – how would Blaze put it? – skint, brassic, broke, penniless. You're the breadwinner in our relationship now Logan, therefore you owe Gambit the beer."
I find the whole thing ridiculously funny, laughing until I'm crying. Gambit barks a laugh and Logan grins at me throughout my little episode. Predictably, Logan gathers me up in a hug and murmurs in my ear that I can have it all back as soon as he can arrange it. Until then, what's his is mine. I shrug. It's not important. What's important is that I'm forgiven by the people I care about the most. Gambit reminds Logan of the beer he now owes him and leaves almost silently. Logan asks if Gambit and I are good, and I tell him I think we are.
The party that evening is tolerable, which is about as positive as I can be about a loud, large gathering of people. People keep coming up to me to give me a hug or to touch my arm, as if to prove to themselves that I'm real. A lot of the new kids – and some of those I knew before I left - spend the evening staring at me as if I'm some sort of God. I suppose when you come back from the dead and you carry the name Xavier, you are bound to be held in high regard here. In some ways I wish it were otherwise, but I am proud to be my father's daughter. I hope he is as proud of me as he said.
Logan is dispatched to try to assuage some of Gambit's fatherhood fears. He does a good job – was my Wolverine always so wise? I think so, but my respect for him goes up a notch that evening. By the end of the party, Remy and Laura are happier again. Everyone's had a hug and a word that wants one, and I think I succeed in not unravelling in front of everyone. Logan helps to hold me together, his arm firmly about my waist or shoulders when I need it, or my smaller hand tucked in his large one. Anyone that even mentions any form of work or mission is glowered at and scared off by one or other of us. There's plenty of time for that later.
Scott insists on making a speech. He officially welcomes me home – I'm already wishing the floor would open and swallow me up as everyone turns to stare at me – says how much everyone has missed me. In a very grandiose gesture, he presents me with the deeds to the mansion. Says they've all discussed it and feel it's only right to give it back to the sole heir to the Xavier fortune. I'm fighting tears again, wondering when I was ever so emotional, as I push them back at him.
"This is our home." I tell him, then clear my throat and say it again, loud enough for everyone to hear. "This is our home. Leave the ownership as it is."
"Then we'll get it amended, so you have a fair share too." Scott looks round at the entire faculty, who all nod in agreement. I smile my concurrence and give him a swift hug.
"Thank you for the offer, Scott." I murmur in his ear. "It's good to be home."
In the wee hours of the morning, we finally get to settle on the sofa in my study for a cuddle and I'm happy to be in Logan's arms for a little while, just he and I. I remind myself as I start to doze off that, as Blaze says, there's no home quite like this one. I glance at Logan and realise that he is my Home as much as this wonderful building and its residents, and I never want to leave it, or him, again. This is Home, and there really is no place like it.
THE END
Author's Note: Thanks to Lamby for the advice and for the Gambit-speak in this chapter. Just recently I was assuaged by guilt for what I did to Gambit in Guardians. I felt bad enough for Vixen and Logan, but it never really occurred to me that the one I owe the real apology to is poor Remy. So after persuading Lamby to write me a Gambit POV (best Christmas present ever!), I decided I had to tackle the conversation between Gambit and Vixen… I hope you enjoyed!