A/N:I have no intention of reciting X-Men Origins: Wolverine back at you verbatim, so I'll try to make it obvious where the film slots in and leave it at that. Also if this story is a little disjointed I apologise. We have a new puppy and she keeps getting into mischief every time I get started writing!

Disclaimer: I am making no money from this

Not All Those Who Wander Are Lost

04- Memory

"That man keeps looking at us," she told him quietly, averting her eyes.

"Ah he probably jus' jealous, you captivated him too Cherie."

"Ha-ha not funny," she told him with typical British self-depreciation. "Besides its not me he's staring at, it's you."

Remy glanced around to see what she was talking about. There was a man sat at another table, and he nodded as Remy looked over. Gambit frowned. He didn't recognise the man. The stranger got up and crossed the pavement, taking a seat unbidden at the couple's table.

"Pouvons-nous vous aider?" she asked, but the man didn't even glance at the redhead. All his attention was focused on Remy.

"I knew you fifteen years ago," the stranger said quietly. He placed his elbows on the worktop so that his hands were resting in the air about four inches away from each other. The man twitched his fingers, making thin white threads start to appear between his fingertips. Somewhere a dreaming Remy knew this was significant, but in the dream he was unable to act on the feeling.

"I doubt dat," Remy told the man flatly. "Fifteen years ago I was a little kid pickin' pockets to survive back in New Orleans."

"You haven't changed at all, apart from your eyes," the man continued as if Remy hadn't spoken. "Still that could just be a side-effect from the travel. You're even wearing the same clothes you were when they brought you in. Victor roughed you up good. You did well though, in the end. It's only because of you any of us survived that place."

"Homme I got no idea what you're…"

"I have to send you back," the man said, twisting the threads in his hands into a long white cord. "It's the only way. You have to go back. I'm sorry."

In a fluid motion the man swept to his feet and grabbed the redhead. Remy lurched to his feet as the girl was pulled away from him. With his other hand, the stranger threw out the white cord. The girl screamed as the cord hit a passing car. The vehicle screeched and veered towards the café. Gambit barely had time to turn and see the car coming before it hit him and threw him up in the air…

Remy yelped, sitting up in bed. His bare chest heaved as he brushed sweaty hair away from his brow. "Mon Dieu," he muttered to himself, "I'se losing my mind..." Breathing hard, he swung his legs around and climbed out of bed. There would be no more sleep for him tonight, or rather this morning. He may as well take a shower and try to figure the dream out.

The shower spluttered, objecting as Remy cranked the hot water up and stepped beneath the flow. "Fifteen years ago I was a little kid pickin' pockets to survive back in New Orleans." Was that right? The child from the day before came to mind. A child about to be taken in by a man named LeBeau. It wasn't possible, was it? Had he met himself as a child? "It's the only way. You have to go back. I'm sorry."

"You sure as Hell gonna be sorry when I get hold o' you," Remy swore, squeezing his eyes shut as he turned his face upwards into the flow of the water. The man at the café, the child in the cell next to his, they had the same power. The white threads. What did it mean? If the kid in the cell had been fifteen, then the man at the café was the right age to be fifteen years in the future. Il n'est pas possible. He couldn't have travelled back in time. Could he? "I need a drink."

Three bourbons on the rocks later with a pack of cards in his hand, Remy was feeling a great deal more like himself. A crowd had gathered around the poker table, and he was doing tricks, showboating for the ladies. They cooed, impressed as he nonchalantly skipped the deck through the air. A small smile on his face, he was already a few thousand dollars up in the game by the time the feral man and his Stetson-wearing companion came into the bar.

Remy watched the movements of the newcomers subtly from under the rim of his hat. He did nothing that might suggest that he had seen them. He knew they were sizing him up from across the room. When the black guy in the cowboy hat moved away to cover the exits, Remy tested the edge of a card with a touch of his power. He was ready for a fight this time. No one was sending him back to Three Mile Island, no one.

The feral man walked purposefully up to the table, never quite taking his eyes off Remy. The hairs on the back of Remy's neck were standing on end, his heart racing, but he refused to baulk. He'd known for a long time that by staying here he risked being found. He kept his eyes low and carried on with his card game. Maybe he was wrong, they might not be associates of Victor at all…

"Are you Remy LeBeau?" asked the feral.

"That depends," Remy answered, "do I owe you money?"

"No," a hint of confusion was in the stranger's voice.

"Then Remy LeBeau I am…"

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"We gotta get outta here."

"I'll make my own way," Logan replied, still looking confused. Gambit wasn't about to argue with his friend, not with the sirens getting louder. The kids were safe, the facility destroyed, and Logan could handle himself. Gambit had the feeling he was no longer required. He acknowledged Logan's decision with a sympathetic "Good luck," and made his escape.

It was ironic, Remy supposed, that suddenly he wasn't the one struggling without his memories. He wished he knew what had happened to Logan whilst Gambit had been shadowing the kids to make sure they got out okay. To lose your memories like that…merde! Logan hadn't known his own name. Even Remy had managed better than that. He had never forgotten who he was, just everyone he knew and what he had been doing before Victor beat the crap outta him. Then there was the dead woman. Gambit had a suspicion that Logan had known her, once. The way he had looked at her body, like he was trying so hard to figure it all out, it had been difficult for Remy to watch.

The little sea 'plane was waiting for Remy at the dock. The engines started first time, and he was promptly skipping over the waves before gaining altitude and heading for the cloudy sky. Remy allowed himself a moment to scan the wreckage that had been the Three Mile Island site. Good luck tryin' to cover dis one up, he thought. Then again, he was sure they'd think of something. No one would look too closely, and pretty soon the testing of mutants would be started again somewhere else. The only thing he could do was get himself as far away as possible. France, maybe.

The 'plane climbed well, and he steered the craft out over the ocean to avoid the commercial air routes. In the distance, a sleek black helicopter was also making a hasty escape. Remy didn't know why he was so sure the kids were safe, but he was completely confident that the bald guy would look after them.

#Come with us, # a calm voice said in his head, nearly causing Remy to jump out of his seat. #You would be made most welcome. #

"Can't," Remy replied out loud, hoping the disembodied voice would understand. "Je ne suis pas censé être là. I'm sorry. Take care o' the kids."

#I will. # the voice replied solemnly. #Perhaps we will meet again in the future. #

"Maybe," Remy muttered, but the presence was already gone. Gambit shook his head to himself, telepaths unnerved him. It unnerved him more as he didn't know when he had met telepaths before. Leveling out at an altitude of thirty thousand feet, he rubbed his brow with the back of his hand and tried to stifle a yawn. He was exhausted. His eyelids felt heavy and the cabin was too warm. Something on the control panel was blinking at him, so he gave it a slap. The light went out again, but now a dial was playing up. Gambit tried flicking a sequence of switches, restarting some systems. The dial steadied and all was well. Exhaling with relief Remy settled back into his seat. That was weird.

Suddenly there was a flash outside, making Remy shield his eyes and grimace. The 'plane made a horrid wailing noise, and every indicator on the control panel started going haywire. Before Remy could get both hands back on the stick, the 'plane had veered into a steep nosedive. He grabbed at the controls, pulling with all his might in an attempt to level out. It didn't work. He tried cutting power and restarting, but the 'plane refused to respond. The clouds rushed past, then suddenly he was below the cloud level and the ocean was surging up to meet him. Remy barely had time to think 'I'm gonna die!' before the impact…