Remy found that there was a feeling in him he'd been missing. Maybe it was just because he was in the South again. In America again. He wasn't speaking other languages all the time, he wasn't switching accents every day. He wasn't even wearing the contacts, just the shades. Maybe it had a lot to do with being in the South again, and the last hurricane season had left a lot of people needing help.
Money wasn't a cure all, and Remy LeBeau knew it. For every couple of people he could slide a grand or two, or sometimes just two hundred dollars to get them back on their feet – pride, he liked to help the ones with pride. They were more likely to not just fall down again, it seemed to him. But money was not a cure all, it couldn't help everyone.
He'd spent a day or two helping put up new houses in a small town just over the border from Mississippi into Alabama. Winds and rain had demolished houses, and two days of physical labor left him feeling good. He'd have stayed longer, but too many questions got raised in small towns like that, let them just think he was a rich college kid do-gooder type moving across the south. He fit the image. After the shopping trips with Mercy about his only old clothes still left were his jeans which were in good repair yet.
There was also the slight issue of more then a few of the fathers of the town had been eying him and getting ready their shot guns, and he hadn't even slept with any of their daughters. Just talked pleasantly. So much for all good deeds being rewarded, right?
The disturbing thing, though, was he began to notice something. While he'd been away from the States, a sentiment had begun growing among the populace. Mutants were becoming more and more known. They were talked about in Senate, groups rallied against them, and there'd been some kind of mutant incident at the Statue of Liberty. Something about a freaky old man named Magneto getting his ass kicked by a bunch of other mutants no one knew.
It got steadily more disquieting, as he travelled through Georgia. One of the few things Remy always hated about the South, it wasn't any more racist then the North – not really, just people were more open about it. More honest. They didn't hide their racism behind politically correct words, they said things flat out. That was how Remy'd always seen it, at least. Who was worse, a racist who spoke openly, or one who hid it behind couched words? He really wasn't sure. They both struck him as pretty bad, but that could just be because he could feel the emotions behind peoples words, and no one without psi-screens could lie to him if he lowered his shields just a bit.
It was in Albany he'd heard a rumor though, there was a mutant up near Atlanta. Only reason he'd heard it because he'd been sulking in a bar enjoying a beer for the night. Gossip mongers, but more, hate mongers. They seemed to know things they shouldn't. A little bit of persuasion, of the charm kind, and Remy was out of the bar, his hotel room, and Macon on his Harley headed for Albany, a sick feeling in his stomach.
Can't be too late, can't. Where's dat royal flush when I need one? In his head, he played cards, while he drove carelessly down the dark roads, the speedometer pegged at almost a hundred miles an hour, his spatial awareness thrown out searching for police or high way patrol, he didn't have time for cops.
Her hotel in Atlanta was nice enough. Not too upper class or expensive, but not too poor either. Ororo didn't like to deal with the problems that arose from less then honest establishments. As it was, she still had went out and bought new sheets for the bed. Never trust hotel sheets, you never knew what had been done on them. Perhaps it was a clean freak tendency of hers, but it was how she felt. She was pulling a light leather jacket on over her white top, and checked the mirror. The white hair always stood out in a crowd, but she was still young enough for it to just be a fashion statement, rather then a mark of being a mutant.
She got looks when she'd gone out into the city the last few days, but not looks of suspcion. Men watched her, and she found she did not mind it so much. There was less call to be the Goddess here, away from the mansion. She had to admit, it was nice to be looked at. None of the adults at the mansion seemed to look at anyone but Jean; despite her being all but married to Scott. Even Logan had never looked twice at her, just at Jean. It was almost distressing, and set her back up. Made the Goddess part of her come out more and more, to maintain the impeccable control required for the weather to not be disturbed by her emotions.
So far, the mini-Cerebra unit hadn't turned up a sign of the mutant she was sent to find. An interesting mutation too. Healers were rare, the only one the X-men had ever encountered so far had been the Morlock called Healer. Which reminded her she'd need to call Moira soon. The Morlocks had all been transferred to Muir Island, and would find a new home somewhere out of the US. Hopefully somewhere peaceful.
Slipping from her rooms after slipping a wallet into her back pocket, and the mini-Cerebra unit into her jacket, she was ready to go. No purse, she was an adept pick pocket, but it was harder to make sure nothing was stolen from a purse then when it was on your person. Besides, it made people less keen to under-estimate a woman. Amazing how just a simple accessory could do that. Yet before she even got out of the hotel, the mini-Cerebra unit beeped.
Frowning, Storm withdrew it and eyed it. Two miles, and it was reading the mutant she'd come to find. A quick move to the rental car she'd got for this mission, and she was fighting her way through traffic. Usually a defensive driver, Ororo was cutting people off left and right. They could only get their readings when powers were used, so she didn't have long if she wanted to find her target.
Which shouldn't have been a worry it turned out. As she crossed Atlanta into the outlying areas, and evening began to set in, Cerebra kept pinging power uses of the mutant she was seeking. Why would they be using their powers so much?
When the rented Trans Am slid to park, and she hurled herself over the door of the corvette and broke into a run, she saw why. A slightly short young man was surrounded by a crowd with torches, draped in black. Occasionally someone would throw rocks, or throw something, hurting the youth. Which resulted in damage to the youth. Which would then be healed in a flare of light.
The mobs mouths all dropped open though, when the sky instantly darkened, and lightnings began to fall like rocks from the sky, and rain and wind whipped down, extinguishing torches. She expected them to flee, but instead, one man pulled a gun out at that point, and shot the healer in the head. There was no glowing, while another turned to face her. Their eyes glowing red that sent shivers down her spine.
"Why Hello Wind Rider. I've been waiting for you." Laughter echoed from a number of possessed throats, even as lightnings began to streak wildly about the area, into the crowd, as wind whipped into try to carry Storm aloft.
Someone was screaming No at the top of their lungs – that someone was her. It couldn't be. Not Him. Yet it was, she could already feel him clawing at her mind, as she rained hail, lightning, everything she could down at that mob. Not to kill, but to disable. If he possessed them, striking at them should weaken them, while she raged inside of her head.
Oh yes, Wind Rider. Are you ready to serve me again?
Storm screamed as darkness over took everything.
Her voice wasn't the only one that screamed no, however. A deep voice carried the same words as he saw the white haired mutant falling from the sky, and his feet pounded against the ground. The weather was screwy, but not so screwy as to mess up his aim with kinetically charged objects. Cards flew through the rain ahead of him, and explosions rocked the night.
He'd been too late, it looked like. One was already dead, but who was this other mutant? He didn't know, but he'd save her if he could. At first, the mob didn't seem to even recognize a threat, and he felt something try to claw at his mental shields. It made his face turn into something even more violent, something trying to get at his mind. Cards sailed through the swirling air, and he struck hard, scattering the mass of bigots into the night. A dark haired man with glowing eyes seemed to snarl, giving the downed weather mutant a nasty regretful look, before turning and fleeing.
Remy didn't give it a second thought, before he scooped up the white haired woman, slung her over a shoulder, and was running back to his bike.
Shit. No good. Dis de problem wit' riding a bike. Hmm. Well, when in doubt...
His belongings were tossed off the bike into the red Trans Am's passenger seat, the white haired woman deposited in the back seat, and he had it hot wired in no time at all. The lamentable part was what came next. He couldn't leave his bike here, couldn't leave anything that tied to him here. His bike got a kinetic charge enough to leave nothing behind, and then he was slamming the gas of the Trans Am.
As they rocketed away from the scene, he saw a massive fireball go up into the air from when his bike detonated. Hopefully no one tried to get too close to the glowing fuscia Harley before it happened.
Merde, dis just ain't my day. Always too slow, a moment behind. Well. I saved de femme, hope she don't go all weather crazy when she wakes up again. Dat be just what I need.
Hours later, and mile away, two figures sat around a camp fire in a camp ground. A tent had been pitched, the red trans am no where in sight. He'd swapped cars in the last town, pulling a blue Saturn out of a garage. Place he'd taken it from had the look of being deserted, so it was pretty likely no one would notice it was gone for at least a few days. That was what mattered.
Remy was enjoying his cigarette, while staring at the fire. It's warmth was nice, considering his clothes were still a little damp from odd weather he'd encountered when saving the white haired woman. Hopefully she agreed with him that it was indeed saving. In time though, he'd begun to get worried. Been about five hours, a little past midnight, and the femme wasn't stirring yet. Her eyes hadn't even flicked open once.
Something got her good. Of course, in the way of things in Remy's life, she stirred just as he was beginning to fear she wouldn't. Eyes slipping open, revealing blue the color of a clear day, peering at him and their surroundings questioningly.
"Where are we?" She asked, looking very very confused. More, he could feel her confusion rolling off her. She was afraid, but most of all confused. The kind of confused he'd only encountered once before. Amensia. Just great. He had already scrambled through her pockets and there was no identification on her, she must have lost it in the ruckus.
When he turned to look at her directly, instead of out the corner of his eyes, she gasped. Seeing the ruby red floating in a sea of black. In the night, he knew his eyes cast a faint red glow in addition, and they had a tendency to flash whenever he felt or said something emphatically enough. She squirmed back a little on the ground for a moment, then shook her head and smiled. She was confused by that as well, he could tell. As if she didn't understand both why she feared him, and why that brief fear was gone and replaced with.. trust?
That simple? His charm wasn't in place. Why? Remy just offered a soft smile to her.
"We be about 200 miles south of Atlanta, chere. Figured better put some distance between us and de people dat attacked ya. I'm Remy LeBeau." Holding his hand out as he shifted to face her bodily.
"You're a Cajun." She said with a small laugh, as he took her hand, and brushed his lips against her chocolate skin.
"Oiu. And you chere? Dere a touch of Africa on your tongue. I be delighted t'learn where I might find more treasures like you." His words rose the desired faint blush in her cheek, as he let his fingers brush her hand, then let go.
"I.. do not know. Everything is a blank." She said it a lot more calmly then Remy figured he would have in her situation. He could see the slight watery effect at her eyes, and he offered an encouraging smile, as he slipped over to sit down next to her, wrapping an arm around her shoulder.
"Well den, we just have to get ya memories back, non? I stole a lot of t'ings, but ain't never stole someone's memories back for dem before." His voice rich with bravado, knowing it was necessary even if she didn't look like it was. His arm about her squeezed faintly, his fingers pressing reassuringly against her shoulder.
He wasn't expecting her laughter. "You're a thief, are you?"
"Yea, dat be what I am. What so funny about dat? Usually people guard themselves when dey find it out, course, I already rifled through ya pockets, ya didn't have no money or identification on ya."
"You didn't check my sock. There's a few bills there. No, don't look at me like that, I didn't remember it. I can feel the bills pressing against my ankle. I... think I might have been a thief too. I can't remember it, but.. the knowledge is there?"
huh. Wasn't expecting a tres belle fille like dis, a weather mutant none de less, t'be a thief. Mebbe this not be so bad after all. Just hope I can help the chere, be a pity for a woman like dis to not remember who she was. Den again, mebbe not. She so controlled, even wit'out her memories.
"Anyt'ing come to mind dat ya want me to call ya?"
She just frowned, shook her head, then shrugged. He couldn't imagine not knowing what to call himself. Even with the vast list of aliases he went by, he never for a moment didn't know he was Remy LeBeau. He could feel the sadness, the fear, the panic, starting to rise into her.
He waylaid it by putting a finger to her lips, and offering her what he called his Knight in Shining Armor smile.
"Well chere. When I come across ya, ya was up in de air. Throwing lightnings, wind, an rain. So how bout I just call ya Stormy?"
"That's a silly name." But her tone wasn't disparaging, and she was smiling back at him. Maybe it was a silly name, but it was for something to latch onto, a name to tie her with the only thing he knew about her. That she controlled the weather.
"Nah. It ain't silly. I like it. Ya got dem clear blue eyes, but I bet dey go like thunderheads when ya feeling t'ings. Stormy pretty fitting, ya ask me."
"Fine. Stormy it is. Well, Remy LeBeau, what were you doing that you found me like this?" She looked up at him with a light smile, before her head rested on his shoulder. She was still listening intently he knew, but sitting that way gave her the soft pillow of his chest to rest on, and an angle where the fire would still warm her.
"Gets kinda complicated, but.. Well. I been on a bit of a self styled mission. Ya remember de story of Robin Hood?" He waited a moment, and she murmured yes. "Well, I been kinda pullin my version of a modern day Robin Hood. Stealin from de rich an de corrupt, an helping de folks dat need it. Ain't all dat easy, figuring out who it is dat be needing it. Was getting a drink when I heard a bit a rumor bout dat lynching where I found you, so I went t'stop it.."
She was quiet for drawn out moments, and when he looked down, he found blue eyes staring up at him. Oddly considering him. He didn't reach for her emotions though, he'd thrown his mental shields back up all the way. He wasn't going to stoop to reading her emotions. She'd lost everything else, they were all she really had right now.
"A modern day hero for the people? You are an interesting man, Remy."
"Ain't no hero, Stormy. Just a t'ief."
She'd gone quiet, after asking that. Peering up at this odd man who'd saved her. His eyes were oddly captivating. A sea of the darkest black, with ruby red floating in the midst. Occasionally his eyes flashed, and when a cloud drifted over obscuring the moon, his eyes emitted a faint glow. His face was covered in a light stubble, and when he wasn't thinking dark things, when it softened, she had a hard time imagining that there was a more beautiful man walking around anywhere else in the world.
Strands of reddish-brown hair hung almost to his eyes, and he was well built. So was she, though. She knew that, because she felt strong. Yet her hero was an oddity. She'd called him that, and the response had made her want to cry for him. Her, she couldn't even remember who she was, but the bitterness and pain in his voice when he said he wasn't a hero. Whoever Remy LeBeau was, she knew one thing about him.
He didn't know himself half so well, if a total stranger could find something out about him in only hours that he didn't know about himself.
He could be dangerous. No, he is dangerous. How he sits, the muscles. And I can feel more then a few weapons tucked into his duster. Why does he have multiple packs of playing cards though? Who and what are you, Remy LeBeau? You're not just a thief, whatever you say.
"Whatcha thinking Stormy?" He asked, peering down at her. She just put a smile back on her lips, and poked him in the side.
"It is late, and I'm tired. I see you have a tent, did you get blankets too or is it going to be better to rough it by the fire?"
"Tent for you, chere. Got two sleeping bags too, I just rough it by the fire, you take de tent." A light smile accompanied the words, and she hadn't even realized a soft laugh escaped her throat.
"Don't be silly Remy, if you have two sleeping bags, we'll share the tent." Before he could protest, she poked him in the chest with two fingers. "But you will stay in your sleeping bag."
He looked as if he was going to argue, studied her face, and seemed to think better of it. His answer was simple. "D'Accod, Stormy."
"Good. Now put the fire out, and let's get some sleep. We're going to steal from the rich tomorrow."
"Que?" He asked, but she was already slipping away from him towards the tent. The tone, the way he sounded confused by her statement made her grin at the tent before her as she unzipped the opening.
"Unless Robin Hood thinks he's too good for a partner?" She didn't catch his answer, because he yelped when he got a bit of a burn from the fire, his hand paused in the act of being about to dump water on the fire.
Five days later, they rested in another camp ground. This time in Mississippi.
"So, ya having fun Stormy?" Remy inquired of her as he stepped into the light of the fire, and dropped down next to her. Passing over the salad and fruit he'd picked up for their dinner. It was late, perhaps three am, she knew. They did their work between midnight and 3am. He was still dressed in his form fitting thin blacks, his duster thrown on over it. She in similar blacks, although the bandana she wore while they work was tucked in her belt, that white hair hung free.
"Of course I am, Remy. I don't think I've ever had as much fun as we've been having. It feels.. good. Simple. And who could complain about the company?" She patted the log next to her, for him to move closer then the yard or so he'd sat down away from her. He complied with a laugh.
"Glad t'hear dat chere. Here's de food." He murmured, passing one of the salads and half the fruit on over to her. She'd remembered she was a vegetarian, the first time they'd went to a diner to eat, and just the idea of eating meat had made her feel ill. Oddly, Remy didn't complain. He just nodded, and most of the time ate the same things she did. Occasionally he'd indulge in meat when they ate in establishments, but just as a variety, rather then as if he had any true preference.
"You still sure bout dis camping t'ing? Cleaning up in a lake a bit chilly, after all." Those devils eyes sought hers, and she just smiled then shifted focus to her food.
"Yes. I like nature, and you can't compete with the view. Besides, I know you like the sound of nature as much as me. You fall asleep almost as soon as you crawl into your sleeping bag."
"Yeah, well. Suppose dat be true." He had one of those little secretive smiles on his face when he told her that, she noted as she watched him out of the corner of her eye. They both fell quiet for a time, while they ate.
"Remy?" "Yea?" "Why do you do this?" "Do what, Stormy?"
"The Robin Hood thing."
"Oh. Dat. Well.. I done some bad t'ings, chere. Some real bad t'ings. Guess it's my way of atoning for dem."
"Does it help? Make you feel better? Help you get closer to your atonement?"
He fell quiet before answering, looking thoughtful. She felt a pain in her chest for him, even before he answered.
"Non. Not so much. It's like a trickle of good, going against a stream of bad. Could do dis for de rest of m'days, and I don't t'ink I ever be at peace from what I done. But helping you chere, it help a lot more."
If I didn't know him better, I'd say he was trying to flatter me, and he is. Silly thief, I've already realizd you hide things behind bravado and what seems to be flattery.
"If I may ask.. what did you do wrong, Remy?"
His face went into a pained look, and her heart nearly snapped in two, and she found that she really had no desire left for the last few pieces of fruit left on her paper plate. Silence reigned between the two for a few minutes, each staring at the fire or listening to the sounds of nature.
"It started when I killed my brother in law.. He challenged me to a duel at de wedding reception. I'm a T'ief chere, a real one. T'ieves Guild. Bella and my marriage was going t'cement a lasting peace between de guilds." To her surprise, he continued.
She listened, hearing the man she'd come to regard as friend, perhaps more, at the least her hero, lay his soul bare to her. Indescretions, broken promises, misdeeds. Jealousy. His tale of Candra filled her with anger, at whoever that callous cruel woman was. Killing. Whoever this Sinister was, it sent chills down her spine so severe she didn't understand. Perhaps it was because of how afraid of him Remy sounded. She'd never heard real fear in his tone.
Not his tone. He was the man who would brave anything, if there was a reason to. He would jump into a flaming building to pull people out without ever even considering the possibility he might get burned, let alone more seriously hurt. She wasn't just misreading him either, she had seen him do it three days ago. Three times he'd gone into a burning building, to pull out just one more person each time.
His description of a massacre in the sewers of New York left her shivering and feeling cold inside. Something about that stirred at her memory. His adventures in Europe thawed that chill, and the tale of what happened in Japan made her want to cry for him. She'd never realized how fragile he was underneath that dazzling personality. He feared love so much, and the name of Yukio tugged at her memories as well. Why or how, she didn't know, but when he described her she could form a perfect mental picture of the ronin.
When he finished his tale with "dat about when I met ya, Stormy. If ya don't wanna stay wit' me no more.. I understand"
She just frowned at him, tossed both their plates into the fire, and pulled him into a hug, his head resting on her chest, as she stroked his hair. He was crying. Her hero was crying. She didn't even realize she was crying, until he'd shifted, and his fingers brushed her own tears off her cheeks.
"Don't cry Stormy, it just turn me into even more of a sobbing wreck."
How a smile formed on her lips, she wasn't sure. Maybe it was the almost begging tone in his voice, as she dragged both of them to their feet. "Come. Sleep will do both of us good."
That night they slept together. Arms wrapped around each other. And that was all they did, each taking comfort just in having someone holding them.
Charles Xavier was frowning across his desk at Scott and Jean.
"I can't find her. Even with Cerebro. She hasn't checked in in days, and when I called the hotel, she hadn't been seen for six days now. Checking with the rental car company, her car was stolen. It was found 300 miles out of Atlanta. The only confirmed sighting of Ororo has been at that lynch mob just outside of Atlanta, where the mutant we'd sent her to try and recruit was killed. Reports – and they are very jumbled; say she scared the mob off but was hurt. No one knows what happened after that, an explosion rocketed the area, destroying whatever evidence might have been there."
All three faces frowned. If they couldn't find her with Cerebro..
"Can you find her thoughts without Cerebro, Professor?" That was Scott.
"I've tried, Scott. It's much harder. I know Ororo well enough to find her from over a continent away, but I can't get a grasp of her. Twice I've gotten close, I think. But there's something wrong. I think she may have amnesia."
"But even with Amensia, you should be able to find her Charles." Jean said with certainty, and scott and Charles both nodded.
"I should be able to. I have, once or twice. But only for moments, and never with enough time to discern her location. Two brief touches, and I could only discern she's not in danger. She's not even worried, but she seems happy."
"If her amnesia isn't stopping you, what is Professor?" Scott was frowning at the Professor, and Charles smiled sadly. Scott was one of his first students, adopted as his own son, but the young man knew his limitations. He knew more about telepathy than any non-telepath ever could, but that was because of Jean and his time with Charles.
Jean, for her part, looked confused too. "Professor?"
"Oh, right. There is a static around her. A haze. Either whatever happened somehow created a field of static around her – which is very possible, if an accident involving lightning happened, an electro-magnetic field could produce those results.. or she's with someone who produces some kind of static field in their close vicinity."
"Couldn't you just find whoever is with her, then?"
"I've tried. I can't. Cerebro isn't registering anything that I could use to narrow the search, either."
"So what do we do?" Scott sounded very unhappy with all of this.
"We wait and have faith in Ororo, Scott."
Outside of the gated entry of Charles Xavier's School, a figure smiled. "If I can't have the Wind Rider, then I'll just have to have my vengeance on you Xavier." With those words uttered, he left his current host, jumping bodies to one of the children playing in the yards.
Three weeks, they'd been together now, and they had returned to find what help for her they could. That was the plan, anyway.
"So this is it?"
"Yea Stormy, dis be de place." He flashed her a grin, as the car came to a halt at his Tante's cabin. Killing the engine, he slipped out the door, adjusting his trench. The air was humid, and the weather was warm. Even for him, the duster was a touch on the warm side in the swamps, but without it he'd feel a slight chill. Damned kinetic transference.
"C'mon Stormy, you gotta meet Tante. She be able to help ya, I sure of it." Remy was aware of the smile on his face. He hadn't expected to be back here so soon, but Tante said she'd help when he'd called her. Slipping around the car, he interlaced his half gloved fingers with hers, and walked to the cabin with her.
He knocked once, while already opening the door – which was flung open before he had it there, and he had Tante wrapping her arms around him. Remy had to laugh, and after a moment disentangled arms and sidestepped into the cabin.
"Heya Tante. Betcha didn't expect ta see me so soon again?"
"No I didn't, childe. Dis your Stormy?"
His companion was eying the two of them with a grin on her lips, while Remy made the introductions. "Tante Mattie, dis be Stormy. Stormy, dis be Tante. She be like a mother to me."
The older woman flashed him a soft smile. It was the first time he'd ever acknowledged that bond in front of someone not a part of the LeBeau house hold. Tante grasped one of Stormy's hands, and gave it a squeeze.
"Well, I see our boys talent for finding beautiful women hasn't diminished any. Oh quit blushing girl, you're beautiful and you know it. I like the hair, now come in before you catch a cold. Remy, you go get your things inside. I've got the guest rooms prepared already."
Laughing, Remy just arched a brow at Stormy, but she nodded at him. She was okay to be left alone with Tante, while he began the process of playing pack mule and carting there bags into the cabin. He used the back door, aware that Tante had used it to get some alone time with Stormy. She had to get to know the other, before she worked her magic.
Besides, it'd give him time to have a cigarette undisturbed, and just soak in the feel of the swamps. Funny, Jean-Luc had been right. He wasn't afraid of gators anymore.
"How much he tell ya, childe?"
"About what? About himself? Everything, I think. About Gambit, his past, what he's been through.."
"He opened up to ya dat much?" Tante seemed surprised, perhaps taken aback. Which confused her. Remy obviously loved her, had he not been as open with his family?
"Well, yes. Hasn't he.. with you?"
"Non. Remy's been through a lot, ever since the wedding. He's afraid that we won't know how to take it if he told us everything, but we know most of it anyway, and it just makes us worry more for him. Jean-Luc has eyes and ears in a lot of places."
"Oh. Maybe.. if you let him know you knew, and it didn't matter?"
"Non. Not with Remy. He be stubborn, and he don't like people knowing things about him unless he told dem. So I won't ask about it, childe. What I will ask is if you're in love with him."
Stormy frowned at that question. She didn't know how to answer it. Did she love Remy? Yes. Was she in love with him? She didn't know. They had something, but if it was romantic or just friendship, she had no idea. "I don't know."
Tante eyed her, and then shrugged. "Least your honest, childe. Now, about your memories.."
Remy figured two hours had been enough time. Besides, it'd started to rain out. Weird, that. It'd been a nice clear day, why should it start raining out of the blue like that? Maybe it meant they were done? Who knew. Tante had worked miracles before, but that soon?
Shrugging, he strode into the cabin, through the back door towards the living room. He didn't even get a greeting out, before he had arms wrapped around him, and white hair in his face. His Stormy was laughing like a mad woman as she hugged him so hard he felt like he might break in half.
"I remember, Remy! I remember everything." He'd went to open his mouth, she sounded so happy, and he found himself smiling, and then he found her lips pressed to his cheek, and then she disengaged herself from him.
"Remy LeBeau, meet Ororo Monroe. Storm." That from Tante, seated in her chair watching the two with the kind of grin only an elderly person watching two youngsters could have.
"Storm, huh? Guess I hit de mark pretty good, eh Stormy?" A chuckle followed the words, as she waggled her fingers at him.
"That is still a silly name. You should call me Ororo, or at least Storm, Remy." Her chastesizing really didn't work. Not with the way she was laughing with the words, and smiling at him. She'd always be his Stormy, even if she honestly didn't like the name.
"Well, I suppose I could jus' cal you 'Ro, Stormy." He smiled, and lead her back to have a seat, while snagging a beer for himself from Tante's fridge. "So ya remember everyt'ing now? Dat good. Ya need ta make any phone calls, bet ya got people worried about ya huh?"
He didn't know why he felt sad suddenly. She knew who she was. Storm. She was probably important. He already knew she was a good person. She probably had people she needed to get back to, a life waiting for her... and wouldn't have any more time to spend her time gallivanting with one Remy LeBeau.
"Almost everything. The attack is still a mess in my head, I can't remember it, but I can remember everything else. Remy.. thank you. Thank you so much."
Tante coughed, interrupting them. "I better be making a run to the grocer. Jean-Luc, Henri, and Mercy'll be here afore long. Oh don't look so surprised, Remy. You think I could keep them away, with you coming back so soon? I'll be back in a while."
It was a dizzying night. Meeting Remy LeBeau's family. Ororo could see where Remy got some of his charm from. Jean-Luc and Henri had been charming, and Henri's wife Mercy was a spit fire. Once they realized she knew about the Guild, Mercy had been all to happy to tell her story of how she'd become the first woman Guild member, and was proud of the fact.
They were an interesting group, to say the least. Not the least bit ashamed of being Thieves – something Ororo could never find in herself. Now though, after her time with Remy and meeting these people? It was something she'd never be ashamed of again. Dinner had been amazing, and so had the conversation. It seemed any friend of Remy's was a friend of hers. They'd welcomed her with open arms, and the only minor annoyance had been in that they all called her Stormy. She didn't mind when Remy did it; not much at least, but it seemed weird to have other people call her that.
The spare rooms of the cabin were full up, and rather then have anyone sleeping on the floor, she'd volunteered Remy to be sleeping with her. His family had all been a bit surprised at that, when Remy just shrugged and agreed. Perhaps it was his lack of flirtatious comment at sleeping with her, but she liked having Remy close to her, and after talking to Tante, she'd come to realize it wasn't nature that had caused Remy to sleep so well when they camped out. It'd been because he trusted her.
The most infamous thief in the world, who trusted almost no one, trusted her. Quite the irony.
"You can open your eyes again." She informed him, as she curled into bed next to him. He was silly that way. For all the fact they both slept nude, he'd closed his eyes when she started undressing, saying he wouldn't infringe on her honor. It seemed silly, given their bare bodies were curled against each other at the moment, touching. Yet he was seemingly unwilling to see her undress, and he'd certainly seen her when they got out of their sleeping bags in the mornings..
"D'accord. Although I mebbe peeked jus' a little bit.." He winked, and wrapped an arm around her, petting at her hair. "Didn't t'ink you'd still wanna be close t'me now dat ya got ya memories back chere. So what ya do now?"
She knew he was afraid, afraid of her leaving him out of his life. She was afraid of it too. Now that she'd met Remy LeBeau, the world could never be the same without his reckless laughter, his spicy scent, or him lurking near in that silly duster he always wore. They hadn't talked about that yet, not really. In the time alone they'd briefly had, they'd just talked about thieving, his family, anything but what was going to come next.
"Remy.. I'm a teacher." She laughed at how he looked confused, as if that'd been the last thing he had ever expected her to say. She laughed, and shifted, pulling his head to rest on her shoulder instead of the other way around, her fingers playing in his red-brown hair. "Don't you laugh at me. I'm a teacher. I teach social studies, and a few other subjects. At a very.. special school. Charles Xavier's School for the Gifted. It's a school full of those like us, Remy. Mutants.. but that's not all I am. I'm an X-Woman, Remy."
He'd told her his secrets, all of them, she could do no less for a man who was at the very very least like a brother. She could never lie like this with another, not without becoming red from head to toes of embarrassment. So he must be like a brother. Of course.
"Sounds like a nice place, Stormy. What's an X-woman?" He sounded confused.
"You haven't heard of the X-men, Remy? No.. well. Charles Xavier has a dream, an idea. He wants humans to live in peace with mutants, and vice versa. The school teaches the kids how to control their powers, and how to co-exist. It's a good place, Gambit."
Remy just murmured something she couldn't decipher against her chest, and she just laughed a little, and continued to play with his hair. She dreaded what she was about to bring up though, so she kept petting his hair with one hand, and rubbing at his muscled back with the other. The silence drawing out between them for long minutes. She was startled from wracking her brain on how to breach the subject, when his hand settled on her stomach, patting her gently.
"Relax, Stormy. Just say it. Your stomach is fluttering like ya got a gaggle a butterflies in dere, an ya anxiety is pushing at even my mental shields. Ya know all my secrets, chere. Ain't nothing you can't bring up wit' me." His voice was soothing, but she could tell he was nervous. A slight tension in his back, but he was more worried about her anxiety then his own. Typical cajun.
"I forgive you, Remy. I forgive you." She was blinking back tears now. Thinking of him, and...
"For what, Ro?" He murmured against her skin, and she breathed shakily. That's when his head raised to peer up at her with those demons eyes, realizing just how serious she was. She knew he wasn't snooping at her emotions. He'd told her about his empathy, something even his family wasn't fully aware of. They knew he felt deeply, but they didn't realize their darling little LeBeau was an empath. A powerful one, at that.
"For.. for.. the Massacre, Remy. For the Tunnels. We.. the X-men that is.. knew the Morlocks. I .. was their leader." Her voice was shaking, she knew. She also knew both of them were. "The Morlocks leader.. You didn't know what you were doing. You risked your life to save those kids. I forgive you, Remy."
He wasn't looking at her anymore, his hair hiding his eyes with his head looking down. She could feel his body tensing, and felt his tears against her skin. Arms wrapped around him even harder, both of them. Squeezing him down against her, while he just cried against her chest, and she kissed the top of his head.
"I forgive you, Remy. You need to forgive yourself." Sobs racked his body, he felt so cold, while his tears seemed to sear against her skin. All she could do was hold him, pet him, and brush her face against his mess of hair.
She wasn't sure how long he cried, but she was dimly aware he stopped crying at some point, and she felt him shifting a little, his eyes looking back up at her. Confused, open, but mostly confused. She offered him a smile, and kissed his forehead.
"Come back with me? At the very least to see me safely there, and to allow my friends to meet the man who saved me?" She knew this would be a hard sale, and he didn't disprove her.
"It a School Stormy. Ya sure dat a good idea? Kids an everything.."
She clucked her tongue at him, and felt the Goddess side of her rising at his refusing to go along with her desires. "You will come back with me, Remy LeBeau, even if it's just to see me there safely. If you don't like the school, you can leave, but you will come back with me."
To her surprise, he didn't argue. He just kissed her shoulder, and surprisingly shifted their positions. Shifting onto his back, and pulling her head onto his shoulder this time, his arms softly encircling her. Why had he done that?
"D'accord, Stormy. I come back wit' you."
It was his turn to feel her tears against his chest, she realized she was crying softly. She had no idea what she would have done if he hadn't agreed to return with her. She didn't want to lose him from her life, now that he'd been caught up with her. Not even a full month, and he'd changed her life. Worst, she didn't want to imagine a life without the roguish cajun in it, couldn't imagine a life without him in it. With his dashing actions, his bravado, his nearly insane never say die attitude.
"Don't cry Stormy. Nothing t'be crying bout, huh? I said I come wit' you. Now you get some sleep. Mebbe we find a flight up to New York tomorrow... an ya should call home, yeah? Dey prolly pretty worried, non? I sure be worried if you disappeared an didn't make any contact wit' me for dis long."
She bit him on the shoulder, for that, and then nuzzled her cheek against his chest. He made a good pillow. "No. We'll drive, and maybe finish a few heists along the way? I need some time before we get there to think, and time to talk with you. It would do good to remind them I can be surprising sometimes too."
"You say so, Stormy." "I do. Now you sleep too."
He had us stop in Charleston, just for the roses.
Ororo found herself laughing, as she ran a finger along the vase of flowers sitting in their hotel rooms bathroom. He'd gotten flowers from all over the city, he must have called ahead. They were everywhere, with their fragrance. Not just roses, but flowers of all kinds. He was full of surprises like that. He'd even taken her shopping, telling her he wouldn't let her friends think he'd been keeping her to just a set or two of clothes for almost a month.
Eying herself in the mirror, she shrugged, and stepped out of the bath room, to spin and look to his eyes. "How do I look, Remy?"
His answer was a whistle, and a wolfish grin. "Pretty damn smoking, chere. Luckiest man in de world be de homme dat ya dress like dat for."
She wished she knew if he was just being flippant, or honest. The white tank top was a good deal tighter about the chest then what she normally wore, and she wasn't used to shirts that exposed her stomach. Or the matching white shorts, that didn't even go halfway to her knees. Exposing an awful lot more leg then she ever would have previously in public, or the sandals on her feet. His eyes on her made her grin though.
"Good. That will do. So, we'll stop in D.C., or somewhere around there, tomorrow, and get to the school the day after tomorrow?" They'd stopped early tonight, the sun hadn't even fallen all the way yet.
"Dat's de plan, shouldn't have too much of a problem making dat distance I t'ink, long as we start at a decent time in de mornin." He was nodding, but his eyes stayed on her. Not on her body, but on her eyes. Yet she had no doubt he was fully aware of how she was dressed. Remy was aware of things like how a woman looked on an almost unnatural level. Then again, he was looking rather good himself. Jeans with the knees ripped a bit, his usual boots, and a tight black shirt that looked practically painted on his toned body. It too, had a hole or slice or three in it, that glimpsed at very defined muscles underneath.
"So we're staying in tonight?" An eyebrow arched at him.
"Non. I got other plans for t'night."
"Oh? Are we stealing something? I'd better get changed into my blacks.."
"Non. Don't bot'er. Not pinching nothing. I thought we catch a play, den got us some dinner reservations."
"Dressed like this?"
"Yup. Just trust me, Stormy."
Heaven help her. She did.
Flames, explosions, screams. Students fled the dormitory wings of the mansion, as fire leapt at and licked at the walls. John was trying to put them out, while down another hall, Bobby was exuding cold to dampen the flames.
Rogue ran pushing students down the halls, to escape the chaos that was enveloping the school. It had all started minutes ago, when one of the young energy manipulators had seemingly went insane and attacked – or tried to, Doctor Grey.
Kitty Pryde ran through the halls, grabbing the younger students and phasing, dropping them down to the main floor, and away from the fighting. Professor had told contacted the older students telepathically, and told them to get everyone out by the boat house, while he and Scott and Jean handled the .. incident.
Jubilee was running like a mad woman, and found herself panting by the boat house, while making sure each of the others her and Piotr had rounded up together made it with them. She had no idea why she'd attacked Doctor Grey, and then a moment later she was in control of herself again. Xavier and Grey had seemed to realize it though, and just told her to get out.
Scott Summers was unconcious. Knocked out in the odd fight that was enveloping the school, Jean Grey was none too happy about it. If he was injured.. there would be hell to pay. Clutching him to her stomach, she felt Charles calling to her on the astral plane.
Taking a deep breath, she left her body, joining him in a world of swirling colors. Her form immediately incasing in armor and a sword in her hand, just as Charles form was covered. Already the Professor was locked in astral combat with a large shadowy figure. What terrified her, was that the figure seemed to be holding it's own against Charles. What use could se be, against someone who could stand against the worlds most powerful telepath?
Jean, I need your help.
His plea reminded her, and a shield formed in her other hand, as she darted forward to join the fray. Swords of thought crashing into other blades. Their opponent wielded two blades, rather then a blade and shield the way she and Charles did. An offensife opponent then.
Blades of pure psionic energy crashed into each other. Into shields. It was a desperate fight, one that wasn't getting any easier now that she had arrived to help, as far as she could tell. In fact, it seemed to be going worse, as their opponent went into even more of an offensive attack.
It was for naught, it almost seemed like. And then Charles cried out, but Jean couldn't tell if it had been a hit or a near hit, she couldn't risk shifting her gaze as her sword and shield had to go into over-drive to protect her when the opponents attention shifted to her. It's laughter said it wasn't a good thing.
I will enjoy enslaving you, Doctor. You and Charles both. I might even let your little boyscout be my pet two, and have you two entertain me.
Rage, anger. He threatened to students, the school, Charles, her, and Scott. She had no doubt how he meant 'entertain' him. Her motions became a flurry, anger pushing Jean Grey into strengths she never showed when calm or afraid. There was no more shy restraint as she lashed out. Her shield and sword functioning almost as if they were part of her.
It was the monsters turn to cry out when her sword cut across it's gut, but she was forced to jump back from a finishing blow due to it's own swords.
That's when the unexpected happen. Help me, Jean.
The astral plane was changing. Walls were forming around the monster, and immediately Jean set her mind to helping Charles do what she knew was a terrible fate. Locking him inside of an unescapable cage in the Astral Plane for eternity. Yet this being deserved it, if the Professor was the one initiating such an action.
It's weapons lashed at forming walls, to no avail, it's wound weakning it, as walls of pure thought surrounded it, trapped it, entombed it. It's screams shook the astral plane, until the walls locked even those away. Then Charles nodded, and they fled the astral plane to their bodies.
How long that had taken she wasn't sure, but Scott wasn't in her arms. Instead, he was helping Charles back into his wheel chair.
"What happened, Professor?" Jean, are you alright? You're alright, aren't you? Both Scott's real voice, and his mental voice, were filled with concern, and Jean had to smile softly at the wash of love and concern that came through their mental rapport.
"It was the Shadow King. I.. ran afoul of him, years ago. When we met that time, he lost. I thought him to be dead, that encounter killed his physical form. It would appear he survived on the astral plane, somehow."
The revelation shocked both of his students. They'd never known Charles to have killed anyone..
"I met him in Kenya. When I found Ororo. He was controlling her and others. Before you joined the combat Jean, he mentioned Ororo. He made an attempt at her again before coming here, but he was thwarted. He thought it was by one of us, whoever scared him off was powerful enough to make the Shadow King run."
Charles was rubbing his chin, frowning.
"He didn't run from you, sir." Scott noted, and then he too was frowning.
"No. No he didn't."
"I'm more curious now then ever, at just who Ororo has gotten herself mixed up with. The students are returning to the mansion now, and John and Bobby have the fires under control. The damage to the dormitory wings is considerable though."
Charles was already wheeling himself out of the destroyed room they had been in, to go meet the students.