Chapter Two:
That Which Was Forgotten
She dreamed that night.
A dream of memories past. All playing out before her in a blurry visual while she slept. Memories of the wreck that killed her parents and left her as a young girl buried under a pile of rubble with her mother's lifeless body. Forever, marking her a severe claustrophobe. Memories of living as an orphaned pickpocket on the grungy backstreets of Cairo – the prized protégée and pupil of the notorious Achmed El-Gibar. Memories of her leaving Egypt and traveling across the desert in search of her mother's ancestral homeland where she'd foolishly accepted a ride from a man who had appeared to be a Good Samaritan until the moment he'd attempted to rape her in the front seat of his Jeep. Memories of being shocked and terrified as he clawed at her, and then of her stabbing him, barely making a narrow escape as she ran away from the vehicle. She dreamt of how she'd nearly died as she traveled alone across the Sahara.
How she'd first came to experience her power over the elements – an encounter that had preserved her life.
She recalled how she'd met Prince T'Challa of Wakanda, how she'd saved his life from his would-be kidnappers and traveled with him until eventually the two were forced to part ways. The young Prince back to his kingdom in Wakanda, and she to the plains of the Serengeti – the home of her mother, a Kenyan tribal princess.
There she'd lived as a weather goddess, worshiped and revered by the local tribes until the day a wise, fatherly, American man came to her village and asked her to renounce her goddesshood and join him in New York with his team of mutants. A group he had affectionately deemed 'X-Men'. She remembered meeting and befriending the beautiful Jean Grey and her boyfriend Scott 'Cyclops' Summers. Of fighting side by side with them and her other teammates in battle against numerous foes. On first encountering the Morlock outcasts and defeating Callisto to become their leader. Memories of the deranged villain The Nanny and how she'd regressed her to a child – hapless and alone. How later she'd again, found herself in Cairo, but a Cairo vastly different from her home of Al Qahira, as it was called in Arabic. But Cairo, Illinois.
She dreamed of falling and being caught by strong gloved hands, and with wary reluctance, looking up into the blazing red eyes of the man who had caught her. The man who had saved her . . .
Stormy.
Ororo woke with a jolt, sitting up in her bed, chest heaving. She laid a shaky hand over her pounding heart and sighed deeply, turning and glancing out the French doors of her balcony. Outside the moon was obscured by deep purple clouds, casting her bedroom in darkness. Ororo threw back the covers and opened the doors to the balcony. A cool breeze ushered in, drifting across her face and stirring her hair, leaving the white gauzy curtains to flutter behind her. Barefooted, she stepped onto the balcony, lifting her hand and waved it across the sky. The clouds dissipated, leaving the moon's light unobstructed as it shone down upon her. She let her head fall back, ears opened to the sound of the breeze.
The song of the wind.
She could hear it.
So faint, yet, so clear.
The same voice, the same song that had called to her before in many times past. The song that had led her to first leave Egypt and seek out her late mother's homeland. It was the song that had led her to the village where she had been worshiped, revered. The same song that had led her to first join the X-Men.
She heard it now and she stood listening to it in the stillness of night. Telling her something was coming. Someone was coming. But what? Who?
Ororo inhaled a deep breath and spread her hands towards the starless sky. The winds flanked her obediently, guiding her up into the night air; her nightgown blowing around her gently as she hovered above the balcony.
Silly dreams. The situation with Logan and Jean was weighing on her heart, unsettling her. She'd never felt so betrayed before, with the exception of one past incident.
It hurt. Both times.
They'd never defined their relationship, she and Logan. The two of them spoke, they embraced, they kissed, and many a night, she'd laid blissfully beside him in his bed. But she had no claim on him. She realized that now. In reality, the man was free to do anything he wanted. That didn't excuse Jean, though, and it left Scott hurting.
None of it was fair. To lie in his arms at night and keep the nightmares at bay, only for him to rise the next day and continue his quest of dallying around her best friend.
Ororo looked ahead towards the horizon, the faintest hint of orange beginning to peek through the dark cloak. It'd be time to start class soon. With that thought, she smiled and flew right towards the burgeoning daylight.
Professor Charles Xavier removed the helmet from his head and placed it back on top of the console. Turning around in his chair and exiting Cerebro as the doors closed securely behind him. He whirred down the halls, greeting the students that lingered in the halls on his way to his Psychics Class. A young student of his named Jubilation Lee, burst through the door to his office, frantically looking down the hallway in both directions until her eyes landed on him. She jogged towards him and Charles met her halfway.
"Professor Xavier!"
"What is it, Jubilee?"
She stopped in front of him, large yellow hoop earrings clinking against her face. She blew a large pink bubble with her gum and cracked it loudly. Charles winced. "There's a guy in your office," she told him. "He's just sitting there. I think he's waiting for you."
Charles frowned, his brow wrinkling. "I wasn't expecting anyone. Did he give his name?"
"Nah, but he's hot and has this, like, really crazy accent," the Asian girl gushed.
The Professor's frowned deepened. "All right. Thank you, Jubilee."
"Sure thing."
"Come."
The teenager followed behind him down the hall into his office. They entered and found all the students in the class had turned in their seats and were gawking at the strange man leaned nonchalantly against the opposite wall. He fiddled with a single card in his hand, twisting it and flipping it over repeatedly. The Ace of Spades. He produced the entire pack in his hands and proceeded to do a waterfall shuffle that left all the riveted teenagers in the room to ooh and ah at the stranger's skill.
Charles recognized him immediately.
"Well, bonjour à vous, professeur. Good seein' y' again," the man drawled, mixing broken English with husky Cajun French in a deeply accented voice.
Charles nodded and turned towards his students, who sat riveted by what was taking place in front of them.
"Class is postponed today. Read the assigned chapters designated on your syllabus for today's lesson and complete the accompanying questions; we'll discuss them next class."
There were various shouts of joy and woo-hoos at the announcement, amidst random high-fives, as the small group of students wasted no time gathering their things and hurriedly departing from the room. Jubilee lingered to say goodbye to the Professor and surreptitiously sneaked a peek at the handsome stranger who pulled down his glasses a fraction and rewarded her with a wink. Jubilee blushed deeply and quickly left the room.
The Professor watched her leave and turned towards the man. "Mr. LeBeau."
"Ah, so formal, mon ami? Call me, Gambit, non?"
"Gambit. Yes, I recall now. That was how Ororo first introduced you to us."
The young man's smirk faded and was replaced by a worrisome frown, one that didn't escape the Professor's notice.
"Well, what would you have me do for you, Gambit? You obviously got around the mansions security defenses and were able to slip in unnoticed and undetected for a reason. I'd like to know what it is," the Professor said as he came around the side of his desk.
Gambit pushed off the wall and sauntered over towards the chair in front of Charles' desk, sitting down and hesitantly removing the dark shades, revealing incredible red and black eyes. He folded them carefully and placed them in one of the pockets of the worn leather duster he donned.
"Gambit come t' join de team," he said.
The Professor's brow arched imperiously at him.
"Again?"
Gambit released a short sigh and ran fingerless gloved hands through his long auburn locks. If Charles didn't know better, he would've said the man looked slightly uncomfortable.
"I didn' wan' t' leave de first time," replied the Cajun. "I jus'—I had t' dat's all."
For a long moment, the two men traded stares until Charles was forced to look away. The Cajun smirked to himself. Few people could look into his eyes for any significant length of time, to endure the devil's gaze. In fact, he'd only met one person in all his years that could.
Stormy.
"And how do you believe Storm will take this?" asked Professor Xavier.
Ironic. Gambit's gaze fell and he gave a small shrug of his shoulders. "Dunno," he murmured softly. "Hopefully she'll fo'give dis Cajun, non? Stormy never been one t' hold a grudge."
Charles nodded.
"But why now, Gambit? I'm curious. Why return now after all this time? You left before without telling anyone, even Ororo. Why do you wish to rejoin the team again?"
"Why don' y' jus' read my mind an' find out?" Gambit responded, head snapping up.
"I can't and you know that I can't. Not that I would anyway."
Remy sighed and stood. His slow drawl speaking of barely veiled frustration.
"I kno' what I did. I ain't proud o' dat – runnin' off like I did. But like I told you, I had my reasons. Stormy was back safe wit' her precious X-Family an' I knew she'd be alright. I had t' go. Work somet'ings out. But I'm back now. An' I'm ready t' stay – fo' permanent dis time. I jus'— I feel like I'm s'posed to, vous comprenez?"
"Does this feeling have anything to do with Storm?"
Gambit didn't answer, just wordlessly stared at Charles.
The Professor sighed, steepling his hands in front of him. So it does.
"You are not in any trouble are you?"
Gambit's grin was sly. "None yet, mon ami. Not at de moment."
Charles grinned despite himself. He watched him for a long moment before responding, "I'd have to meet with the rest of the team and its leaders."
"Y' mean de one who wear de t'ing over his eyes? Cyclops or somet'ing like dat?"
"Yes. Cyclops."
Remy nodded.
"And Storm."
Ororo just finished locking up her classroom after the end of the period when she glanced up to see Jean heading towards her. Ororo sighed through her nose, eyes drifting shut a moment before opening them up to see the redhead standing directly in front of her. Her posture spoke of nervousness. She anxiously rubbed her hands over her jeans.
"Ororo, will you give me a minute? Can we talk?"
"Jean—"
"Please?"
Ororo pinched the bridge of her nose. She glanced back up at Jean who stared back at her, eyes pleading. The sight only aggravated Ororo further. Perhaps that would have worked with Scott or Logan, but it wasn't cutting it with her.
"Honestly, Jean, I would rather not. All you will tell me is how sorry you are and how you never intended to hurt me, and how regretful you feel for doing so. I don't want to listen to any of it Jean because I know it'd all be a lie. "
The telepath opened her mouth to argue the assumption but Ororo interrupted. She held up a hand to silence her.
"No, Jean. Do not try to tell me otherwise. You aren't sorry – about anything of this. You only regret having been caught. You and Logan have been up to this little game since the first day he stepped through those doors."
"I didn't know you had feelings for him! I didn't know you were together. You guys are so confusing and I—"
"Were you confused about you and Scott, as well? Hmm? Did you forget he was your fiancé? That you were engaged months before the mighty Wolverine ever showed up?"
Jean Grey's head dropped in shame, shifting uneasily where she stood. Her shoulder-length red hair fell down into her face, offering her temporary reprieve from Ororo's reproving cerulean gaze. Ororo stared at her and gave a helpless shake of her head.
"I'd advise you to save your excuses and apologies for Scott because whatever it is Logan and I share pales into comparison to what was supposed to be your commitment to Scott. He's the real victim in this comic tragedy."
Jean Elaine Grey could not remember a time she had felt so demeaned. It seemed to hurt a million times worse coming from Ororo – a woman whom not even blood could make more of a sister.
"Concern yourself with repairing that relationship first. As of now it is the only one that remains intact."
"Ororo, don't say that!" Jean cried, tears now flowing down her face freely.
Wetness began to form in Ororo's own eyes as she watched her fellow teammate and best friend weep openly in front of her. For a brief moment, she wondered if she had been too harsh. Am I being cold . . . and brutish? Ororo listened to the woman's sniffling and sobbing and suddenly grit her teeth, hastily wiping away the moisture in her eyes.
No. She wasn't.
It was her modus operandi, Jean. Manipulating those around her – the men in particular – with her beautiful and fragile damsel in distress routine. She always duped them and they succumbed to it hook, line, and sinker. Never had it much affected Ororo up until the recent dilemma involving Jean and Logan. Nevertheless it did now, and she wasn't fond of being included as a pawn in the telepath's manipulative little game of Chess.
Ororo cast her one last pitiful glance before walking past her and heading to the greenhouse. Inopportunely, at that moment, Ororo heard the Professor's telepathic summons echo in her mind, requesting all the team to assemble in the War Room. Ororo sighed miserably and spun back around, taking a deep calming breath before striding down the halls towards the elevator that led to the lower levels where all the X-Business presided. The heels of her stiletto boots clicked against the polished hardwood floors of the mansion as she walked up to the elevator and pushed the appropriate button located on the chrome panel. She stepped inside and prepared to go down when Jean walked in after her and crowded over to the opposite side, shooting hopeful looks in her direction. Ororo ignored her and pushed the button to the correct floor, both the troubled pair of friends riding the elevator in awkward silence. Ororo exited as soon as the doors slid open, hurriedly making her way inside the War Room among one of the first team members to arrive.
Professor Xavier sat in his wheelchair at the front of the large, rounded table beside Scott. Ororo took the seat on the other side of Charles and smiled at him faintly.
"Ororo," he greeted her.
"Afternoon, Charles."
The older man's gaze passed between her and Jean, who had taken the empty seat next to Scott. She wiped at her eyes and face – red, blotchy, and slightly puffy from crying earlier. Beside her, Scott regarded her curiously.
"Jean, Ororo, are you both alright?" he asked.
"Fine, Scott," Ororo answered simply, briefly meeting his shielded eyes. Scott turned to Jean. "And you?"
"Fine, I'm – I'm fine, too," she muttered, eyes downcast and avoiding all their gazes.
Charles observed them both knowingly and Scott frowned, clearly unconvinced.
For a moment, Charles wondered minutely if now was the best time to approach Ororo with this. But he figured if not now, when? There was no way to hide Gambit's presence in the mansion.
Bobby, Anna, and Warren were the last to file in, nearly one right behind the other.
Everyone took a seat, acknowledging each another with various salutations and nods of the head. Ever the leader, straightaway, Scott took a mental head count of each person present. Everyone was there. All except—
Wolverine.
Scott's jaw clenched, lips setting into a thin line.
Always Wolverine.
"Where is Logan?" Scott asked his team.
They all glimpsed around curiously, shrugging their shoulders. Anna – or Rogue as she was called in the field – seemed to think for a moment and snapped her fingers.
"Bobby and Ah saw him ridin' off on Cyclops' bike last night just as we were comin' in." She looked at Bobby who nodded in agreement. "Yeah, he probably just hasn't come back yet," he added.
Several inquisitive pairs of eyes glanced at Ororo and Jean. Somehow all knowing instinctually that it had something to do with the two women who both apparently had a thing going with the Wolverine, odd as it was. But Jean – she was supposed to be with Summers. The strange situation between the four – Wolverine, Storm, Cyclops and Jean – had led to numerous awkward moments amongst the team in the last several weeks. Even if they didn't know all the details, nearly all the team knew something unsettling was happening amongst their ranks.
Jean fidgeted uncomfortably under the scrutinizing gazes, but Ororo merely stared down at the gleaming oak table, perhaps preoccupied with her own thoughts of where he was. Maybe.
"Well, we'll have to continue without him," the Professor pronounced. "Thanks to those of you here for coming. I asked you all here because I have an announcement to share with you all."
All of them nodded.
"I won't bother drawing this out or keeping you in suspense as I know we all have things to attend to and would rather get this over with so that we can."
Their expressions were grateful and Charles smiled slightly.
"We have a new mutant joining our ranks," he boasted. "He only just arrived today. You'd be surprised to know that a couple of you are already familiar with him; one of you in particular." He glanced at Ororo and everyone else followed suite in the direction of his gaze. Ororo's eyebrows drew together and she frowned openly.
Silence ensued.
"Uh, well . . . who is it?" Bobby inquired, just as curious as the rest of them were.
Charles stayed his eyes on Ororo as he spoke, her heart beginning to beat rapidly. It couldn't be . . . please, please, do not let it be . . .
"I'll let him introduce himself. Gambit . . . would you come in please."
All breath seemed bated as they waited anxiously.
A tall, slender man sauntered gracefully into the room, shades removed to display startling red on black orbs. The sclera was an incredibly fathomless obsidian, the irises a faintly glowing crimson.
There were various gasps and murmurs of awe as every eye in the room zoomed in on the mysterious stranger. His gaze, however, lingered only on one.
"Stormy . . . How y' been, padnat?"
Stunned gazes with even more stunned expressions shifted towards Ororo whose heart was racing so fast it almost felt like a panic attack. Her eyes were wild and frozen, like a deer caught in the headlights. Throat dry, stomach clenching painfully, even her breathing felt labored.
They all glanced at each other with wary concern, the tension and the atmosphere in the room seemingly charged with electricity.
"Do not—N-Never call me that. I to-told you not to call me that," she whispered coldly. Her eyes immediately filled with tears but were just as quickly disguised by the eerie whiteness they had become.
Too much. All of it was too much.
She bolted from the room so fast, no one reacted quick enough to stop her.
"ORORO! ORORO!" she heard someone yell after her, but she didn't know who. She didn't care who. So intent was she on making her escape, that she failed to notice Logan until she had smacked right into the solidness of his chest.
"Oof!"
Logan caught and held her secure, staring down at her with eyes narrowed in alarm.
"Darlin'? Whatsamatter, Ro? What's wrong?"
"Release me," she demanded. She tried to wriggle from his firm grasp, unshed tears blurring her vision. "Let me be."
"I need ta talk to ya, Ro. Some things I gotta explain to ya," he insisted. "Ro, what—"
"I SAID RELEASE ME!" she growled. Lighting streaked across the sky outside illuminating the hallway, followed by a boom of thunder that was loud enough to rattle the windows. Ororo wrenched herself from his hold and fled down the hallway in the direction of the small staircase that led to the attic loft.
Logan watched her disappear, bewildered and disconcerted. He contemplated following her when the hair on his arms and neck suddenly stood up. He sniffed and let out a barely audible growl, whirling around to catch a tall, sleekly formed man staring at him from the inside the doorway, the stranger's mouth firmly set in a scowl. Bizarre demon's eyes blazed back at him.
Logan's knuckles itched. He sneered at the man.
Who in the flamin' hell was this?
Author's Note: My appreciation and thanks to all of you who read and reviewed chapter one! Your comments were/are much appreciated :D