Chapter Three
He didn't like the Cajun. And that's obviously what the man was judging by that ridiculous accent interspersed with even more ridiculous French.
When Ro had torn out there like a bat out of hell, Logan had wanted nothing more than to follow after her and find out just what in the flamin' hell had happened. But it'd been Chuck that had instructed him to stay while the Cajun was introduced to the rest of the team. Seeing how he hadn't been in the meeting at the start, Logan figured the least he could do was comply. Grudgingly, he watched and listened as Charles went around the table and made the introductions.
"Everyone, this is Remy LeBeau, but he goes by Gambit. Gambit," the Professor extended an arm towards his surrogate X-children, "these are the rest of the team, the X-Men."
Gambit. Logan logged the name away.
"Gambit, this is Warren Worthington the III, our newest member. Well, second after you now. He goes by the codename: Angel. You can see why."
Remy nodded, staring at the man's wings, fluttering and glaringly white. Warren stepped forward and shook Remy's hand.
"Nice to meet you, Gambit."
"Likewise, mon ami."
"This," Charles continued, "is Robert "Bobby" Drake. Codename: Iceman."
Gambit took his hand. "And yo' powers?" Remy asked.
"Oh, um, uh, I freeze stuff."
"Yeah?"
Bobby nodded, smiling proudly. "Gambit jus' t'ought y' had watched "Top Gun" too many times."
Bobby laughed loudly at the joke – too loudly, making it seem awkwardly out of place. The rest of them eyed him with humorous distaste and rolls of the eye.
Charles gestured next to a pretty brunette. "This here is Anna Marie, whom we call Rogue."
The woman twirled a single strand of white hair around her finger and offered her other gloved hand to Gambit who caught it immediately and laid a kiss on her knuckles. A blush spread across her cheeks. "Ah-Ah'm Rogue, like the Professor said."
"Charmed, ma chère."
Her smiled stretched further, reaching her green eyes.
"Is yo' power t' blind people wit' yo' beauty, chèrie?" he asked, grin heated and playful.
Anna's blush deepened as she let her hand drop from his. "N-No. Ah actually—Ah absorb the power of anyone Ah come in ta physical contact with. Their thoughts and memories, too."
"Ah-ha."
"Ah haven't fully learned ta control it yet, hence the gloves." She lifted one of her hands as an example, covered to her elbow in a dark green glove.
"Interestin'. Well, Rogue, its tres bon t' meet a beautiful femme, like yo'."
She laughed and dropped her head shyly. Bobby rolled his eyes, followed by the sound of the Wolverine clearing his throat loudly.
Anna turned and shot Logan a look that screamed: "Please don't embarrass me!" to which he merely shrugged and directed his attention back towards the Cajun. Remy smirked at him and Logan frowned deeply.
"And you've already met Jean Grey and Scott Summers from your previous visit," Xavier said, continuing the introductions. "Jean is Scott's fiancée and one of the teachers here at the school. Scott is team leader, along with Storm. She teaches as well."
"Stormy?"
The man's pulse quickened at the mention of her name, Wolverine heard it and narrowed his eyes at him suspiciously. What the hell was that about? Annoying Logan even further were the dark glares the man kept sending his way.
Scott leaned forward and shook Gambit's hand. "LeBeau. I have to say, we never expected to see you again after you left."
"Gambit full o' s'prises, mon ami."
That got Wolverine's attention. He'd been here before?
"Chuck, who the hell is this guy?" Logan barked impatiently. "What's he doin' here?"
"Logan," Scott issued, but the man barely heard it, too engaged in a silent stand-off with the new guy with the freaky eyes. What in the hell was with those eyes anyway?
"Logan, you were not present earlier when I briefed the team. Gambit is joining the X-Men; he is one of us now."
Logan's eyebrow lifted in disbelief. "What?"
For the second time that night, Gambit flashed him a smirk, and it was all he could do not to waltz over there and wipe the cocky grin off the Pretty Boy's face. Logan glanced around the room, studying the various reactions to the news. All of them watched the scene before them in complete silence. Conveying their confusion with subtle looks between each other and wearing bewildered expressions, he didn't even think they were conscious of.
"LeBeau," Scott spoke up, "this charming gentleman here is Logan, also known as—"
"De Wolverine," Remy cut in. All eyes turned to look at him and Scott's head quirked with speculation. One of the Cajun's shoulders lifted in a shrug. "Heard o' him."
"Yeah?" Wolverine snarled.
"Oui. Not'ing good though."
"Then ya know not to f—k with me," Logan challenged, taking a swift step forward when he felt Marie's hand close on his arm.
"Logan. Don't," she pleaded quietly. The Canadian restrained himself long enough to stop and look at her, hearing the anxious tone in her voice. She softly shook her head 'no' at him.
The collective breathing in the room was bated, wary of the Wolverine's infamous anger and temper; the other members in the room regarded both men cautiously. The new stranger didn't seem to be any push over, either.
Logan turned from her and growled in frustration. "Well, whaddaya mean rejoin? I ain't never heard of this guy before today!"
"Gambit first came to the mansion several years back, before you arrived, Logan," the Professor calmly explained.
"Why? Fer what?" Logan demanded with a scowl.
"My Stormy."
Logan heard Anna gasp. Bobby and Angel glanced at each other, their confusion evident.
Gambit's burning eyes remained on Logan's. "Yer Stormy? Ya mean, 'Ro?"
Gambit said nothing. Just stared.
So, Gumbo here knows Ororo – Ro. How?
Logan's ire rose belatedly. "And are you the reason she ran outta here like a bat outta hell?"
"Logan," Charles admonished.
"Dat's 'tween me and Stormy," Gambit fired back. His eyes flashed dangerously.
Logan uncrossed his arms. "That's where yer wrong, Gumbo. Ro is my business."
"She was my b'ness 'long time befo' she was ever yours, homme. Yo' bes' remember dat."
"Wanna run that by me again, bub?"
"All right, enough," Charles cut in firmly. "It's late, Gambit, Cyclops, I wish to speak with you two. The rest of you may leave."
He'd reluctantly decided to go. Before his claws had a chance to make an appearance. He watched Cyclops approach the Professor and begin chatting with him, leaving Jean alone by herself, gloomy and sullen in her disposition. He nearly went to her – nearly. The split second before he'd thought better of it. He was already in a pickle with Ro, all because he couldn't keep his damned hands to himself.
Logan had drew back almost as soon as he had begun to take the step forward. Dropping his head on a tired sigh, mentally conflicted. He glanced back up to find the newest team member watching him with a steely glare. The man's gaze quickly slid from Logan to Jean and back again. Nearly becoming ember slits as they rested on the Canadian.
It was a knowing look and he didn't like it; one entirely too telling for some squirt who'd only just arrived. It irked and unsettled Wolverine so much that he didn't even bother with his initial reaction, which was to tell the nosey Cajun to screw the hell off. He just cut hardened eyes at him and stalked out of the room . . . before he changed his mind.
Couillon, Gambit thought as he watched the Wolverine depart. He glanced to the side and observed the redhead – Jean, he recalled – leave only a few moments after. It had left a bad taste in his mouth, seeing the little episode between his Stormy and the hairy troll when she'd fled the room earlier and bumped into him out in the hall. Then the way the man had stared at Summers' woman right before he'd left.
No, it didn't sit well with him.
Gambit idly fiddled with the worn cards in his hands, turning his attention to the Professor who was waving him over from where he sat at the table with Summers. Didn't concern him who they were, if either the Wolverine or Jean hurt his Stormy, he'd have their asses.
2 DAYS LATER . . . . . .
Enough time had passed. He'd allowed her her alone time. Now he was going to march up there and say his piece, and she was going to hear him out because . . . Logan groaned silently. Because he needed her.
Two nights. Two nights he'd slept alone, without her pliant body filling his bed and his arms. And because she wasn't there filling his arms at night, the nightmares were free to fill his mind.
Two nights. Rough nights. He'd forgotten just how rough they could be after months of being nightmare-less and encompassed by her voluptuous body, lungs full her earthy scent suffused with hints of sandalwood and newly fallen rain.
Logan stared out of the large bay windows, watching the steadfast rainfall broken up by intermittent flashes of lightning and booms of thunder. He smacked a beefy hand against the glass of the window pane, turning and starting up towards Storm's loft. On the way, he passed Marie who threw a hand up and waved at him.
"Hi, Logan," she greeted with a cheerful smile.
"Aye, kid," he mumbled, nearly jogging in his pursuit to reach the attic loft. He arrived on the third floor, just beneath the attic staircase and found Jean at the bottom of the stairs, staring up at Ororo's bedroom door with an expression full of apprehension. She anxiously wrung her hands together.
"What are ya doing, Red?"
She made a startled noise and turned around, finding Logan only a few feet away, watching her with curiosity. Her pulse increased as her eyes roved over him, clad in a simple white ribbed tank and his signature close-fitting jeans.
He ignored his own urge to rake his eyes over her familiar slender form, and asked her again: "Jeannie, what are ya doin' up here?"
She blinked once, shaking her head of the blank daze she'd been in for a moment. "Uh—I wanted to talk with Ororo." She gestured to the staircase in front of them. "As you can see, I haven't worked up the courage yet."
Wolverine stared at her a few quiet moments, then he let out a breath and reached out to capture her arms, turning her to face him properly. Clarity he was after – to make sure she understood what it was he intended to say to her.
"I'm through, Jeannie."
Several blinks. A frown marred her pretty features. "I'm sorry?"
"I'm 'bout ta go up there and talk ta Ro, and when I do . . . this," he gestured between the two of them, "it's done. It's over."
Prevailing silence fell between them for several long moments as he let her absorb what he'd said. Jean's face fell, within a split second becoming a mask of indignation that nearly prompted Logan's eyes stretch with incredulity. "There a problem, Jean?"
"Do you really think so?"
"Think so about what?" he began to scowl.
Jean chuckled shortly. "That what's between us can be erased so easily?"
Logan deliberately kept his face blank. "And what is between us, darlin'?" He crossed burly arms.
"Don't pretend, Logan. I care for you. And you care for me, too."
"'Course I do," he told her, "that ain't ever gonna change, Red."
Relief washed over her face.
"But I ain't gonna play these games with ya anymore either. Not at Ro's expense."
He scratched the back of his neck, his next words reticent and resentful. "And . . . not Scooter's either," he added ruefully. Jean's eyes widened and she scoffed at him.
"Can't ya see what it is we're doin', Jeannie? Now look, I'm a mean son-of-a-b—h, but Ro . . . she don't deserve this and ya know it. Ya saw how she exploded the other day outside of the flamin' War Room."
Jean rolled her eyes. "That was because of Gambit," she interjected.
That took him aback. His forehead knotted.
"What's the Cajun gotta do with it?" Logan griped, frowning deeply. "Cocky bastard seems to be a friggin' nuisance, but he don't—"
"It - was - because - of - Gambit," she repeated slowly, accentuating her statement with emphasized pronunciation of each word.
He glared at her with child-like incomprehension, irritation growing. "Ain't got time fer riddles, Jean. I'm just lettin' ya know how it is between us," he said. In truth, speaking with more confidence than he truly felt.
All he knew was, yes, as of now, he was committed to being with Ororo. If she would allow him – he prayed she would. Vocalizing his own doubts, Jean responded, "I wish I could believe that Logan. I wish I could believe that we'll never touch each other again, that we'll never kiss, that the wanting will stop, but—" she took in a breath, throwing her hands up in defeat. "I can't honestly be sure and say that it won't. Nothing has changed."
"That's yer problem."
"And I don't think you can say it honestly either."
That angered him.
"Yeah?"
Her chin lifted, the gesture more or less smug, haughty, even. "Yes."
Without another word, he shouldered past her, curtly tossing over his shoulder: "Only time will tell, but I wouldn't hold my breath if I were you, darlin'."
His anger at her fueled his resolve. God, he hoped it wouldn't fail him.
Ororo heard the knock on the door, the slight click and sound of it being opened, waiting to hear the heavy footsteps across her floorboards and the gruff voice of the man who owned them.
"'Ro?"
There it was.
Logan crossed the room and stopped a few inches from where she sat on the edge of her bed, staring blindly out the glass doors of the balcony.
He squared broad shoulders, preparing himself. "I came up here ta talk to ya," he began.
"You assume I wish to listen to you." She exhaled quietly.
Logan took the next few steps, and stood directly in front her. He looked her over. Her appearance seemed normal, aside from her normally bright blue eyes, now dull and rimmed with red.
"Ya've been cryin'," he stated.
"It is from lack of sleep."
It was a lie and she knew it. But she wouldn't let him know that, especially since he wasn't the reason she had been weeping the last two days. Too ashamed to admit the true reason for her tears to the man before her.
Logan inspected the dark shadows under her eyes and nodded. The bed dipped slightly under his weight as he sat down next to her. Ororo cut him a sharp look, that he chose to ignore.
"Ya've been up here a long time, darlin'."
"I have a calendar, same as you."
"Been worried 'bout ya."
"Really now?"
"Damn right. Been burnin' ta get some things off my chest."
"That must be painful."
"Ro—"
He scratched roughly at his coarse whiskers, already becoming exasperated with her chilly demeanor. A tick started in his jaw. Patience was not a virtue he was known for.
"Would ya look at me?"
Nothing.
"Fine." He arose and crouched down in front of her. "Listen, I'm sorry, Ro. Fer how I've been treatin' ya . . . it ain't right. I don't wanna lose what I got with ya. I don't wanna lose what we started ta build."
Her head turned slightly towards him then.
"I wanna be yers and you, mine. I mean that."
"Not Jean's?"
Logan stared.
A flash of red hair. Laughter. Smiling green eyes.
He shook his head of the blurred images, blinking a few times for good measure. "No," he swallowed. "Not Jean's. And fer what it's worth, I think she's sorry, too."
Ororo's mind drifted back to the redhead's tearful confession the other day, when they'd stood in front of her classroom.
Storm rose from the bed with a sigh. "Logan, I'm not really in the frame of mind to hear this."
He followed her. "Well, ya are, darlin'." Logan grasped her by the shoulders, imploring her in her stubbornness to look at him, the gaze never went any further than his barrel of a chest.
"I want ya, darlin'."
"And Je—"
"NO. Not Jean. It ain't gonna happen no more, Ro, I swear it. Done already told Jeannie."
"What am I supposed to say, Logan? Tell me. How am I to trust you in this? You knew of my feelings for you, but what we had remained undefined because I trusted you! I trusted you to be true to what we had even though it was without a label. And I honestly think that gave you the impetus to chase Jean this whole time. And, truth be told . . . you're right! You're free! I have no hold on you. You are not bound to me in any way."
"I never thought that, Ro. I never thought I was free of ya. I'd just been chasin' Jeannie fer so long that when me and you got together I didn't know how ta stop."
"That's not encouraging."
"Ro, being without ya the last few days—I been thinkin'—it's you I want, darlin'. Not Jean." He swallowed past the distinctly bitter half-truth with some difficulty.
There was no getting around that he remained very attracted to the redhead, and she him. He figured to some degree, he would always have a thing for her. In spite of it, Logan could admit readily that he felt like a fool for how his actions towards Jean had grieved Ororo over the last several weeks. So there, in her room, standing right before her, Logan did his best to project the sense of sincerity he felt outwardly as Ororo's canny blue eyes peered searchingly into his.
She turned from him moments later with a breathy sigh, moving over to the balcony where she stood and stared out the glass, rubbing her arms while she hugged herself in an attempt to generate a sense of comfort.
What would Logan say if he knew the real reason she had secluded herself up in her room the last two nights? That the reason she had bawled and bawled until she couldn't bawl anymore wasn't because of what had happened between him and her best friend, but because of what it had did to her when she'd first laid eyes on him, that darkly handsome Cajun who had – in an instant – reappeared into her life as if by magic?
That day she had seen him – the first time in six years – two overwhelming emotions had taken hold of her. The desire to wrap her hands around his neck and throttle the life out of him, warred with the desire to wrap her arms around him, bury her face in his chest and hugged him to her – to tell him how much she'd missed him.
Thankfully, she hadn't given in to either urge, which meant not only was the man alive and breathing, but she'd also retained some semblance of her dignity. As much as was left after she had ran out of there like a crazy woman.
That dream she'd had of him. It was as if she had willed the man to return, and all her buried memories with him. She didn't know how she would even face him, her belly roiled with anxiety and excitement just at the thought of his returning to her.
Her best friend. Closest companion. And one-time guardian.
Even now, torn at her situation with Logan, Ororo had to fight against the tiny grin threatening to worm its way onto her face at the warm memory of their camaraderie.
There had been so many. So many warm memories.
She allowed herself to remember, and nearly everything else became secondary.
"Did ya hear me, Ro?"
"Ya hear me, Stormy?"
"I said I love ya."
"I love ya, petite. Y' my family, girl, always. Ma famille."
Logan caught her around the waist, the solid heat of his chest pressing against her back, warming her, lulling her. He breathed in her scent and nearly purred with contentment as it filled his senses. Smiling when Ororo relaxed in his hold bit by bit after two days of being without it.
She squeezed the arms coiled around her. Deeper. Falling deeper into the tender memory.
Ororo nestled quaintly in Remy's hold. Her body still trembling from the aftermath of her nightmare. Frequent as they were. His soothing touch on her back, slowly caused the trembles to subside. "Shh," he hushed her, rocking her in his arms, "it's okay, ma chère. Remy's here."
"I'm here with ya, Ro. I ain't leavin' ya, darlin'."
Ororo's eyes drifted close in tranquility. "Promise?"
"Promise, Remy? You won't leave me?" Ororo's eyes drifted close sleepily.
Logan turned her face towards him with a gentle lift of her chin and pressed his lips to hers . . .
. . . Remy leaned down and pressed a kiss to her forehead. Brushing back the white hair that had fallen from her loosened braid.
"I promise, petite. Remy'll neva leave ya."
"I promise, darlin'."
Outside, Gambit drew deeply on the cigarette between his fingers, watching the idle smoke float up and away. He shoved a hand through his long locks, still damp from the shower he'd taken after his introductory session with Cyclops in the Danger Room.
Danger Room was right, Remy thought with a smirk. His right shoulder ached, and he was sure the bruise located near his ribs would be a deep purple by tomorrow. He took a final drag then stubbed the cancer stick out on the bottom of his boot.
The rain had stopped. That also meant Stormy had stopped crying.
The fact only slightly relieved him.
Stormy, Stormy, Stormy.
Gambit sighed and rubbed a hand over his face.
What could he say to her? How much could he reveal while still making her understand? He hadn't seen that look of anger on her face for a long time. How frightening and beautiful she could be all at the same time.
He rubbed his hands together, leaning his weight on his knees as he sat on a small bench out on the mansions front lawn. How was he going to fix things with his padnat?
Remy turned at the sound of approaching footsteps, and saw the brunette with the white streak of hair approaching him with a wave and a smile.
"Hey, there.
"Aft'noon, chère."
She walked up to him. "Can Ah join ya?"
He smiled kindly. "Pretty femme like yo'? 'Course y' can."
Anna giggled and sat on the bench beside him.
"So how was ya first Danger Room session?"
"It was good," he told her. "Scotty don' pull no punches, non?"
Anna shook her head. "Nah, he's pretty tough. Guess he has ta be, being a leader. Did ya have Dr. Reyes take a look at ya? She's the med doctor here at the school."
"Non, Gambit be alright, chère. Scotty told me t' go see her, but I be fine. 'S jus' bruises."
Anna nodded. Her eyes darted beyond to a point over his shoulder and she frowned. Remy turned, and found a young girl with dark brown hair jumping on the back of the one who had introduced himself as Iceman that first day. The girl was giggling and screaming while Bobby spun her around wildly.
Remy smiled at them. Recalling a time long ago when he use to do that with a little Ororo. Spinning her around on his back, she protesting at first but always ending up laughing until her stomach ached.
Anna leaned in. "That's mah ex-boyfriend, Bobby. You've met him already."
"I 'member."
"The girl is Kathryn Pryde, but we all just call her Kitty. They say she might be joinin' the team sometime soon. She's like a super-nerd."
"Dat all she does?"
"And she can walk through stuff, like walls and doors. Calls it 'phasing'," she quoted with gloved fingers.
"Hm."
Remy sat back, legs outstretched, feet crossed at the ankles, raising an eyebrow with a slight look of mischief on his face. "Dere, uh, any other couples?"
Regardless of how he'd poised it, inwardly he knew the question was anything but casual.
"Well, Warren—ya know, Angel?—he dates a woman named Betsy but she doesn't stay here at the mansion. She's from England, Ah think. She's got this purple hair." She shook her head. "Anyway, Jean is Scott's lady, but thangs have been weird between them lately, the Professor, he likes this Scottish scientist named Moira MacTaggert, and Ah don't know what in tarnation is goin' on with Storm and Logan."
"Whaddaya mean?" he sat up.
"Well, ya know how Jean's with Scott?"
Remy nodded.
"It's strange 'cuz everyone knows she wants Logan."
"Ain't he s'posed t' be wit' Stormy?"
"Ah dunno," she shrugged. "Ah thought he was. They acted like it, like a couple. But with Ororo it's hard ta tell sometimes, she's a little icy, ya know? Fa' what it's worth, Ah think they have feelings fa' one another, but Logan still likes Jean."
"What's Cyclops t'ink 'bout dat?"
"Oh, he hates Logan. They argue all the time. Logan says he's a d—k and a boy scout."
Remy snickered.
"But he's a good guy, though, Logan. When ya get ta know him. He's the reason Ah'm here at the mansion. He's been a good friend."
Remy nodded and fell quiet, ruminating over what he'd learned.
Rogue fiddled with the ends of her hair, tapping her foot to an unknown rhythm. "You, uh—ya call Ororo, Stormy," she said after several seconds. "Earlier and on that day ya first came. How do ya know her?"
Remy sighed and stared up at the sky. His drawl was thoughtful. "Stormy an' I go way back t' when she was a petite an' I found her in Illinois. We lived in N'awlins together. I took care o' her until she came back t' de mansion an' t' de X-Men."
"So that's where ya from?"
"Born an' raised in de Bayou," he grinned.
"What, so then, ya left?"
"A week after I brought her back."
Rogue wanted to ask why, but she didn't want to look nosey. She literally had to bite her lip to refrain from asking.
"She doesn't seem ta like it when ya call her Stormy," she said offhandedly.
"Nah, she don' mind," he laughed deeply with a dismissive wave of his hand. "Not really."
"Yeah? 'Cuz she looked madder than a wet hen when ya said it."
"Non, wasn't 'cause o' dat."
"Oh."
Silence.
"The rain's stopped." She glanced up at the sky, yellow rays just beginning to peek through the scattered clouds.
"Yeah." He needed to talk to her. "I'm gonna inside." To make things right with his Stormy. "Gotta talk t', 'Roro."
Remy hopped off the bench and started back in the direction of the mansion.
"Um, Logan's up there!" she snapped around and said, watching his steps falter. "Ah saw him headed up there when I was about ta come out here."
Merde.
"Maybe—Do ya wanna go somewhere?" she said to his back. "Maybe down to the Salem Centre and find something ta do?"
Remy sighed and turned back around to face her.
Anna held her breath in anticipation, bottle green eyes shining with hope.
Thwarted, the Cajun cast one wistful glance back at the mansion. He managed a crooked smile. "Sure, petite. I'll go wit' ya."
Rogue bit her lip to keep from smiling so hard.
"Okay, let's go."
Author's Note: Sorry about the lengthiness of this chapter. Love to hear your thoughts on what's unfolding. Any thoughts on what's ahead? Thank you for reading and reviewing :D
Ashra