New York City, New York
The Past, Six Weeks Ago
Gambit slowly reached out a hand for the switch to turn on the overhead light, but there was no mistaking what he had seen even in the dim light that fell through his apartment windows. There was a dead body in his living room, and that body looked remarkably like himself. Gambit took a hesitant step forward to look at the corpse. The man had been shot in the head. His eyes were closed and he had a vaguely peaceful expression on his face. There was a large pool of blood surrounding his head and a spray of red across the couch.
Gambit was so stupefied by the sight, it barely registered with him that he should be keeping an eye out for the shooter. That was when one of the windows exploded inwards. Gambit turned to see a man come flying through the window feet first to land on the floor. The attacker slid in the pool of blood and fell, landing on his hip.
"Not my best entrance ever –," said Daredevil as he lay on the ground. Then, realizing he was sprawled in a pool of blood, he said: "What the –!"
Gambit had still been holding his cell phone as he had entered the room, and now it dropped to the floor forgotten. Gambit leapt upon Daredevil and bore him to the ground. Gambit's hands wrapped around the man's throat. Gambit proceeded to bang Daredevil's head against the floor repeatedly. Daredevil responded by pressing one hand against Gambit's face while the other tried to pry Gambit's fingers from around his throat.
"Gaah!" Daredevil snarled.
"Mmph!" Gambit responded as Daredevil pressed his hand against Gambit's mouth. Gambit bit the fleshy part of Daredevil's palm.
"Owwah!" Daredevil's head made one last thump upon the floorboards when he twisted beneath Gambit to send the thief sprawling onto his back.
The two men grappled across the floor in the most undignified tangle of arms and legs. The gun behind Gambit's back fell free of his belt and Daredevil had enough sense to kick it across the floor where it span out of reach. Gambit took advantage of the opportunity to put his knee in Daredevil's midsection.
"Uhmph!" Daredevil said, and now Gambit had rolled atop of him again. Gambit raised his fist intending on putting it right in Daredevil's face when Daredevil threw himself forward. Gambit landed flat on his back.
Daredevil now had a fistful of Gambit's hair and Gambit was crying: "Aïe! Let go'a my hair, imbecile!"
"Gambit?" Daredevil asked, momentarily perplexed as he recognized the voice. Gambit delivered him an open-handed slap across the face.
Daredevil seized Gambit's wrist and pinned him to the floorboards. "Stop it!" Daredevil said, even as Gambit tried to wriggle out from beneath him. "I'll let you go if you – just – quit –!"
Gambit head-butted him. Daredevil recoiled, holding both hands to his bleeding nose. Gambit rolled around on the floor clutching his forehead and moaning.
"I thing you brode by dose!" Daredevil said, cupping a hand over his injury.
"Serves ya right, ya red-devil bastard!" Gambit said, sitting up and making a half-hearted attempt to kick out at Daredevil.
Daredevil skittered backwards and out of reach. He wiped his forearm under his nose, leaving a smear of blood across his cheek. "I didn't know it was you!"
"Who de heck else would I be?" Gambit exclaimed.
"Last I knew, you tagged along with the X-Men tossing around playing cards. You weren't hanging out with gang members and shooting guns!" Daredevil exclaimed and gestured in the direction of the firearm. "Not to mention – did you quit smoking?"
"What does that have'ta do wit' –!"
"And eating meat...and...carbs –?" Now Daredevil sounded confused as he processed the memory of Gambit's scent.
"I don't even want t'know why you know that, you freakin' weirdo," Gambit snapped.
"Well, you smelled different," Daredevil tried to wriggle his nose and then made a sound of pain and clutched his face. "Asshole! You did break my nose!"
"You broke my teeth! Beat de crap outta me, smashed up my apartment, and I'm de a-hole?" Gambit shouted.
"I thought you were one of the Juárez crew!" Daredevil responded. "And by the way, your apartment would be a lot nicer if there wasn't a dead body in it!"
"He's not part of de usual décor," Gambit responded and looked over at the corpse.
Daredevil climbed to his feet. He offered a hand to help Gambit up, and Gambit slapped it aside with a snarl of disgust. After a moment, Gambit stood as well.
"Dis is a fine kettle of fish," Gambit remarked to no one in particular.
"He's been shot," Daredevil said, leaning close to the corpse.
"Oh, y'don't say!" Gambit snapped. "Any more conclusions, Sherlock?"
Daredevil righted and turned to Gambit, his mouth a disapproving line. "Well, maybe we should do something about the woman in your bedroom." Daredevil pointed towards the open door to Gambit's room. The blind man had sensed a figure standing in the doorway with his radar-sense, smelled the tang of her blood in the air, and heard her rapid heartbeat.
Gambit turned to look in the direction Daredevil pointed, then turned back to face his adversary. "Very funny, mon brave. You made me look."
Daredevil let his arm drop. "There is a woman standing right there," Daredevil told him in a slow voice, as if he were speaking to someone very stupid. Daredevil took out his cellphone from the pouch at his waist. "I'm calling someone...she's been hurt."
Gambit slapped Daredevil's phone from his hand and it fell to the floor with a clatter. "I got eyes in my head, and I can see fo' myself there ain't no woman standin' there. And I hear tell you was plain crazy, but now I can see dat for myself, too!"
Daredevil seized Gambit by the shoulders and turned him around to face the door. "You mean to tell me that you can't see a woman standing there? Right there? That one that's bleeding on your floor?"
Gambit opened his mouth to berate Daredevil further when he realized he could see the falling droplets of blood leaving a small puddle on his floor. He closed his mouth and blinked. And then a woman materialized from the thin air.
"Mother of pearl!" Gambit exclaimed. There was a woman in a floor-length purple gown standing in the open doorway of his bedroom. The dress was torn and filthy, stained from the hem up and torn at the bodice. Her pale skin was smeared with dirt and black soot, her throat scratched, and her long red hair a tangle around her bare shoulders. Her eyes were bloodshot and her complexion blotchy. It appeared she had been crying. Most shocking, Gambit recognized her. For a moment, his vision blurred and he was overwhelmed by one of his flashes; the sensation of vertigo was so strong, he put out an arm for balance and was caught by Daredevil.
Gambit pulled himself free and stared open-mouthed at the vision of Jean Grey standing before him. Then he shouted and reached for his playing cards. "Get back, Diable!" he called and charged the fanned deck he held in his hands.
Jean raised her hands, looking surprised. "N-no!" she began.
Daredevil seized Gambit's wrist. "What de hell!" Gambit exclaimed and tried to pull his hand free. "You wanna blow us bot' t'kingdom come?"
"I can't let you blow that woman up!" Daredevil shouted.
"That ain't no woman! That's one of Sinister's clones!" Gambit responded, trying to turn his attention back on Jean.
"Please, stop!" Jean cried and stepped into the room.
"Oh, we dead now," Gambit said with resignation.
"I promise, I'm not going to kill you," Jean said, her hands still raised in supplication. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you. Please, stop fighting! Both of you."
When Gambit failed to release his cards and Daredevil refused to let go of Gambit's arm, Jean sighed and her head drooped. "All right, you asked for it," she said. She casually raised her arms and both Gambit and Daredevil flew apart. Gambit's cards detonated in an insulated pop as she used her powers to contain them in a telekinetic bubble.
Gambit sat up from where he had been thrown onto the floor. He began to crab-walk backward away from Jean. "What d'you want?" he called to her. "What'd he send you here for?"
Jean shook her head. "No one sent me, Gambit," she said sadly. "I was brought here."
"Brought here?" Gambit asked.
Jean had walked forward to stand in the center of the room. She gestured weakly at the dead man at her feet. "I asked him to bring me somewhere safe. He took me here. Then someone shot him from there." She pointed to the broken window.
Daredevil stood and faced the broken window he had jumped through. "An assassin?" he asked.
Jean's shoulders moved up and down. She seemed very tired. "I don't know. I couldn't find out. You both arrived just a few seconds after it happened. I concealed myself, telepathically. I – I didn't know what else to do."
Gambit was still looking with disbelief at Jean. "This has t'be some kinda trick," he said.
Jean shook her head and held out her arms to her sides. She took a step forward and Gambit hastily backed up.
"Stay away from me," he told her.
Jean looked at him sadly. "You don't have any reason to believe me, I know," she said. "But Sinister didn't send me after you."
Daredevil had crouched and was feeling across the floor for his phone. He found it and picked it up. "We can sort this out later. Right now, you need medical attention. You're bleeding."
Jean looked down at her forearm. It had been wrapped in a piece of torn cloth which had soaked through with blood. Droplets of red fell onto the floor as she stood.
Gambit shook his head. "I don't –."
"Call Cecelia," Daredevil told his phone.
Gambit blinked at him. "Wha – what?"
"Doctor Reyes?" Daredevil asked. "Yes, I have an emergency. Do you think –."
"How d'you have Cece's number?" Gambit asked, somewhat angrily.
"Excuse me a moment," Daredevil lowered the phone and put his hand over the mouthpiece and asked Gambit smugly: "What's a-matter? You jealous?"
"I'm going to kill you!" Gambit shouted.
Jean buried her face in her hands and moaned.
~ oOo ~
"What are you eating?" Matt asked incredulously, gingerly touching the splint covering his nose.
"Palak paneer," Remy responded, somewhat indecipherably since his mouth was half full. He swallowed. "Seein' as how you had to go and knock my teeth loose, I can't hardly eat nothin' else."
"Well, it smells appalling. How can you eat that stuff? It's searing the inside of my brain," Matt complained.
"Trust me, it doesn't look any better than it smells," Cecelia responded dryly and opened the window of her apartment. She used her hand to fan some fresh air into the room.
Remy was seated on her couch, eating from a take-out container. There was a small dinette set nearby. Matt was sitting in one of the chairs, Jean in the other. Cecelia had been tending to their injuries, splinting Matt's broken nose and stitching up the cut on the inside of Jean's arm.
"I'd eat just about anything at this point," Jean said mildly.
Remy eyed her warily. "Do you...want some?"
Jean smiled wanly. "Is it spicy?"
Matt wiped his hands across both cheeks. "Ugh, I'm burning from over here."
Remy stood to walk over to the small table. He dropped the container in front of Matt. "I could be persuaded to share."
"Please don't start again," Cecelia said and pointed a finger at Remy. "I've had enough of you two bickering in the last few hours."
"He started it," Remy grumbled.
Jean pulled the container towards her and examined the contents. "This looks...interesting."
"You're taking your life in your hands," Matt told her.
"I'd prefer it that way," Jean said and picked up the plastic fork. "Rather than leave it in Sinister's." She put a forkful of the spinach and cheese-based meal into her mouth. Her eyes watered. "Oh! That's hot." She began to cough.
"See, you've killed her," Matt said to Remy.
Cecelia poured a glass of water from her tap. She handed it to Jean. Jean spluttered: "I've died before. This is worse."
Remy sat on the end of the couch and folded his arms. "Your sense of humor survived."
Jean wiped her eyes with her knuckles. "Does this mean you're starting to believe my story?" she asked.
"Dunno, chère. Like to give people de benefit of de doubt, but it keeps coming back t'bite me in de...butt."
"So you think I'm Sinister's puppet and I've been planted in your apartment? What happens next? What do you think I'm going to do to you?" Jean asked.
"Dunno that either. When Sinister is concerned, de worst I can imagine is still de best case scenario," Remy responded.
From where she was leaning up against her kitchen counter Cecelia said to Jean: "We should probably take you to a hospital. Schedule some scans, do some blood work."
Jean raised her hand and waved weakly. "Please, no. I – don't think I can handle any more examinations right now."
"You can take her to d'X-Men," Remy told Cecelia. "They'll get her sorted out."
Jean looked up at Remy, a flash of anger in her eyes. "No one is taking me anywhere," she said. She gasped and put her hand to her stomach, feeling a phantom pain of claws in her abdomen. Jean blinked and shook her head to dispel the sensation.
Remy held up his hands in surrender. "Hey, relax," he said with some concern. "You don't gotta do nothing you don't want to do."
"Someone killed...my friend. I'd like to know who was responsible," Jean said.
Matt turned to Remy. "Someone was waiting for you, watching your apartment. They must have seen the clone and assumed it was you. You're very fortunate."
"The clone was not so fortunate," Jean said, her mouth turned down in a trembling frown. She looked away.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be insensitive," Matt apologized. To Remy he said: "Any idea who would be out to kill you?"
"No, not at de moment," Remy said, considering. "Though when your client Jesus sells me out to de Juárez Cartel, I'll probably find myself a foot shorter." He held his hand out flat and made a slicing motion across his neck.
"You don't need to worry about Jesus," Matt told him. "He's a reformed man. I can handle the Cartel problem."
"Yeah, sure," Remy replied. "Seein' as how I took care of most of it myself. But you go on ahead and take all de credit."
"I still can't believe you were working with the feds on this," Matt said, rubbing his forehead.
"Just keep tellin' yourself that. Makes it easier for you to justify attackin' me."
"I can't actually see you, you know. I could only sense your shape. You were covered head to toe," Matt said, gesturing. "And carrying a gun."
Remy stood and took a few mincing steps. "Oh, and mebbe if I'd dressed up in a little catsuit like Felicia you'da gone easier on me! Mebbe purred a few sweet nothin's in your ear!"
"What do you know about Felicia?" Matt snapped.
"Meow meow, I'm de Black Cat," Remy said in a higher voice. "Lookit me, all sexy. Purrty please, Mr. Daredevil, don't turn me in!"
"Hey!" Matt shouted. "That was a completely different circumstance!"
"De circumstances of you gettin' your –," Remy began and made a rude gesture.
"Remy!" Cecelia interrupted.
"Whatever went on between Felicia and I is no business of yours," Matt said. "And I don't know what you heard but –."
"Heard it straight from de kitty's mouth. You don't think a coupla thiefs don't get together every so often to...compare notes, so t'speak?" Remy said.
Cecelia frowned.
"You're full of shit," Matt said angrily though he could sense Remy was telling the truth.
"What's a-matter? You jealous? Alls I'm sayin' is dis is some kinda weird reverse discrimination!" Remy announced. "Fee gets off...in more ways tha –."
"That's quite enough," Cecelia said, folding her arms.
"Meanwhile, I get a club in de face," Remy finished and pointed at his jaw.
"I think I've found a motive for why someone would want you dead," Matt said drolly. "Now to find the culprit."
"Oh good, Detective Devil is on de case," Remy said.
Jean leaned over the take out container. "What is in this? Sarcasm serum?"
"I'm a lawyer, not a detective," Matt told him. "Though it's clear to me that you've drawn some unwanted attention."
"All dis notoriety is crimping my lifestyle," Remy complained.
"Yes, I'm sure it's definitely impacting your return to a life of crime," Cecelia said with disapproval.
"Because my life of superheroing has been so rich and fulfilling," Remy said.
"There is something the matter with you," Jean told Remy. He avoided her gaze.
"This is news?" Matt asked.
Jean ignored Matt. "Remy...what happened? Are you all right?"
"I quit smoking. I'm grouchy," Remy said. "That's all. Let's go, jolie alouette."
Jean blinked at him. "What? I told you, I'm not going to the X-Men." She shook a little as she said this, a note of fear in her voice.
"That's a good plan. Sinister comes after you, that's de first place he'd look. Let's make tracks outta town 'til de heat dies down." Remy picked up his jacket and slung it over his shoulder as he walked towards the door.
Jean glanced at Cecelia and then back at Remy. She stood. As Jean started after Remy, Cecelia pushed away from the counter to follow. Remy had reached the door and pulled it open. When Jean joined him, he offered her his coat. Jean was only wearing an old pair of scrubs Cecelia had leant her and worn tennis shoes.
Cecelia put her hand to the open door. "Remy," she began.
He paused in the hall and turned. "Yeah?"
"You don't...," Cecelia glanced at Jean. "Ah...Nothing. Be careful."
Matt turned his head towards the window, listening to something only he could hear. "What time is it?" he asked.
"'Bout six or so, I'd guess," Remy answered.
Matt leapt up from his chair. "Dammit, I'm going to be late."
"Late?" Remy asked. "Seems early to me. Too early."
Matt lightly touched Cecelia on the shoulder as he passed her on the way out of the door. "Thanks, Doctor Reyes."
"Sure, but –," Cece began, looking flustered as she watched her guests depart. "Remy!"
He turned again.
"Just call me later, okay?" she asked.
He smiled vaguely and continued down the hall.
There was a strange silence as Remy, Jean, and Matt stood awkwardly in the elevator. "Busy day, hunh?" Remy asked finally.
"Uhm, yes," Matt responded.
"Solving de mystery of my murder?" Remy asked.
"Well, there's that."
"Yeah, and...? Lawyerin' stuff? Ain't it Sunday?"
"Yes. It is."
"What, lawyers don't take days off?"
"Occasionally. I just have someplace I have to be," Matt was growing impatient.
"Remy, leave him alone," Jean said, sensitive to Matt's growing insecurity.
"You know where I'd like t'be? In bed. In my apartment. Except that ain't an option."
"Well, I suppose you have your priorities, don't you?" Matt said.
"Not all of us can be oh-so important," Remy told him. "So who do you have penciled in to your day planner?"
Jean trod on Remy's foot. "Ow!" he said as the elevator finally reached the ground floor.
"I'm going to Mass, if that's all right with you!" Matt said loudly as the doors trundled open. His voice echoed in the empty lobby.
"Oh," Remy said. He caught Jean's eyes for a moment and nervously looked away. "Catholic?"
"Yes," Matt said and combed his hands through his hair.
"Hm, me too," Remy added. "I went Wednesday. That counts for t'day right?"
"I don't think that's how it works."
"You're right. Maybe you should pray for me."
"You could probably use some divine intervention."
"Hey, Matty."
"What?"
"I got a joke for you. Did'ja hear de one about de lawyer?"
Matt sighed. "Which one?" he said dully.
"All of them!"
~ oOo ~
Next time...Ain't that a kick in the...nuts.