Chapter Five
Ororo had gone to bed that night with her heart feeling lighter than it had in years. Six years to be exact. The two partners and former thieves had spent the entire night catching up, reminiscing about the past they'd shared together. Ororo wasn't surprised to learn of the wily exploits the Cajun had had while away, the danger he'd put himself in. Would the man never learn? But she loved him for his spontaneous nature, and whenever he was around, he brought out her own spontaneity like no one else could.
As they huddled together under a large, yawning Oak near the lake, laughing and joking freely, Ororo was taken back to another place and time. She couldn't help but muse wistfully over the adventures they'd shared together – Bonnie and Clyde. In New Orleans – their old stomping grounds – and up and down the Gulf Coast. Stealing from the rich and giving to the poor – well, mostly giving to the poor. They'd still had to make a living after all. And while Remy LeBeau told her tale after tale, his red and black eyes wide and animated with excitement, a part of her couldn't help but wish she had been able to join him during those six years.
x x x
"It a rainforest up here, ain't it, girl?" Remy had said while gesturing to the various plants scattered around the loft. They'd just come back from the lake, and after an evening where'd they'd both laughed and joked like hyperactive children, Ororo had grown tired. Happy but tired.
"I fo'got y' were Mother Nature in de flesh, chèrie."
Ororo rolled her eyes at him. "And what are you, my friend?" She bent down to grab a nightgown out of her dresser bureau. "Besides the Cajun Casanova and ladies' man, I mean?"
Gambit grinned at Ororo secretively. "Jus' a t'ief, chère. Jus' a t'ief."
"And an X-Man," she reminded him.
He stared at her a moment before nodding slowly. "Oui. And an X-Man."
The former goddess sat down on her bed and waved him over, a grin on her face, and patted the empty space next to her. "Come and get in," she called him over. Still in a playful mood from earlier. "I'm going into the bathroom to change into my nightclothes and then I'll be right out."
The once delighted smile he'd worn on his face faded. He shook his head no at her. "Sorry, chère, but not t'night. Don' t'ink yo' man would like dat much."
Ororo inclined her head towards him in understanding. "Right." She hadn't even thought about it. Last night had been the first time in several weeks that she and Logan had shared a bed – she simply hadn't realized. Without a doubt, things had changed since the last time she and Remy had been together – when it was just them on their own. Neither one of the duo had understood just how much up until then. The days were long gone when she could crawl in his bed or he hers and cuddle up together until they both fell asleep. The difference all of a sudden felt drastic. Remy LeBeau wasn't sure how much he liked it either.
"I'm sorry. That was stupid of me."
Remy didn't say anything. He didn't trust himself to.
"So, where's your room?" she said, her head titled curiously to the side.
"Oh, um, it's de one right beside Rogue's."
One of Ororo's white brows rose in amusement. "Is it now? How convenient for you."
"No, not'ing like dat, chère," he laughed a little. "It ain' wha' y' t'inkin'."
"Hm. At least night yet, right?"
He answered her with a mysterious wink of his dark eyes, and Ororo laughed. She'd been doing a lot of that tonight; it felt odd but good after a horrendous couple of weeks. The tall African stood and walked over to him, her arms affectionately coming to wrap around his waist. "Goodnight then, Remy," Ororo bid him softly. "I'm glad we had a chance to talk things over."
"Me too, girl. Remy can' stan' when his Stormy mad at him. Don' wan' t' take de chance o' lightnin' strikin' dis boy wit'out warnin', non?"
Ororo's chuckle came out muffled against him. "Never," she laughed. "I would never do that to you and you know it."
He kissed the top of her head and rubbed her arms. "I kno'."
"And don't call me Stormy or I just might."
x x x
A half an hour after he'd left, Wolverine had come trudging up the stairs. Finding Ororo awake, her bedside lamp on, staring blindly up at the skylight in the ceiling.
"Hey, darlin'."
"Hello, Logan," Ororo turned, watching his approach.
He strode over towards the bed and looked down at her. "You alright?" he asked.
"I'm fine," she told him sincerely.
Logan nodded, sitting down on the bed to remove his boots.
"And you? How did your talk go with the Professor?"
"Same ol', same ol'. Nothing new. Just more dead ends." He ran his hands through his dark hair with frustration and Ororo frowned at him, scooting closer to rub his back in a show of comfort.
She sighed sympathetically at his plight. "I'm sorry, Logan."
"Don't be." He lay down on his back and pulled her over to him, kissing her deeply while leisurely running his hands down and over her velvet nightgown. "It ain't yer fault, darlin'." He kissed her again and continued groping the soft body stretched out on top of him. "So, did ya find out what the Cajun wanted?"
Ororo drew back slightly, squinting down at him. "What do you mean?"
"The Cajun. He was up here this mornin', in yer room while we were sleepin'. I was nappin' so hard I didn't even notice 'til I woke up and smelled him."
"Oh . . . right."
That was news to her. Remy hadn't mentioned it at all. "Yes, yes, I spoke with him earlier. Everything's fine."
"Okay." Wolverine kissed her slowly, strategically shifting to the side and swiftly rolling her under him. He placed his arms on either side of her head. He bore his immense weight on his forearms to keep from crushing her.
"Mmm," he groaned near her ear, lowering his lips to the tender skin right below her ear and nuzzling it. "Ya feel so good darlin'." Ororo gasped softly when she felt his hand inching boldly underneath her gown. "So good."
Her hands were on his belt buckle then. Spreading wide the front of his unzipped jeans. Her action was a pleasant surprise on Logan's part. After last night and this morning – considering all that had happened between Ororo, Jean, and himself – he figured he'd have to do a little coaxing, maybe even a little begging for them to be with each other this way again – and so soon at that! But his old worries flew right out of his mind as he growled lowly at the feel of her body beneath his. Their love-making was different from all the other times. He didn't know if Ororo felt it, but he did for sure. It was . . . tender, so unlike their other times, being as wildly passionate as they both were. He was thoughtful in his handling of her, surprising the weather goddess with whispered endearments like: "I love you" as they came together continually for each other's mutual pleasure. And for the first time, with startling clarity, he realized that he meant the words. Actually meant them.
The Wolverine loved Ororo.
He hadn't changed fundamentally, and neither had Ororo – but his perspective had been altered. For the first time the Wolverine's eyes were truly opened, where usually they were blinded by either lust or rage. He understood finally that this was what the goddess had been offering all along – love, affection, and understanding. All he'd ever had to do was return it.
How simple it all had been. What a fool he had been. He was just glad she had given him another chance.
"Could ya pass me the salt there, sugah?"
Remy absently passed Rogue the salt shaker and his eyes immediately returned to the entrance at the front of the cafeteria against his will. He took his fork and fiddled around with the sausage on his plate, determined not to look to the front of the cafeteria for Stormy. But his eyes strayed there anyway. Where was she? No one had seen her all morning.
Bobby sat at the table with Kitty, Jean sat next to Cyclops, and Rogue sat on the seat next to him. Warren, he learned, was not at the mansion. Only the Wolverine and Storm were M.I.A. He was considering whether or not to go and find her, when Cyclops' voice broke through his thoughts.
"Ay, LeBeau. You up for a DR session after breakfast?"
"Y' got a class t' teach, non?"
Scott Summers shook his head. "Nope. Not this morning. But I would like for you to get in as much time in the Danger Room as possible."
"Scott," Jean Grey leaned in to her fiancé and murmured under her breath. "I was hoping I'd have that chance to talk you. We really haven't spoken to each—"
"There will be time for that later, Jean. It's more important that Gambit get acclimated in every way and as soon as possible. We never know when we'll get called in on a mission and I want him ready."
The redhead looked as if she wanted to argue the point with him, but her eyes fell back down to her plate instead and she opted to say nothing, which seemed to satisfy her fiancé just fine. He shot her a pitiful look and shook his head at her before turning back towards Gambit. "So what do you say?"
Gambit shrugged. "Alright, mon ami. D'accord."
The two men got up to leave and Rogue followed on their heels. "Ah think Ah'll come and watch you two boys."
Jean watched them go forlornly.
"Come weekend we'll have a team session that'll include everyone, so you can get used to the team dynamic," said Scott as they exited the cafeteria and made their way to the lower levels.
Jean watched them go and fought back the tears that suddenly sprung to her eyes. God, she felt so alone. No Logan. No Ororo. And now, no Scott? The telepath's green eyes roamed over the large cafeteria, watching the horde of chattering, laughing students, all of them oblivious to the lone teacher and sole occupant sitting at the teacher's table by herself. She was all alone in a room full of people. Is this what it had come to?
Swallowing down a wave of sadness, Jean got up to dump her tray and leave the buzzing cafeteria to finish grading the tests she'd put off yesterday, all the while wondering what it was she was going to do to fix the situation she found herself in.
x x x
"Looks like he's done this before," Rogue commented as she and Scott watched Gambit run smoothly through the current advanced-level program.
Scott shook his head. "He hasn't. The Danger Room wasn't fully operational when he was here the first time."
"Then wherever he picked up skills like that is certainly a mystery. Ah'd bet he could hold his own in a one-on-one with Wolverine." A hint of awe in her voice.
Scott gave Rogue a knowing look. "You certainly seem to admire his skills."
"Who?"
"Gambit."
Rogue shrugged her shoulders. "Ah'm just saying he looks like a good fighter," she replied defensively. But her suddenly beet red cheeks belied her casualness. Scott rolled his eyes at her from behind his red glasses.
Down in the center of the Danger Room, Remy had just smashed the jaw of yet another holographic member of the Friends of Humanity when he heard Scott's voice over the mike from up in the observation deck blare throughout the room.
"Okay. That's it for today, LeBeau. Nice work."
Gambit turned and saluted them, before flicking his bo staff around with a flourish and pocketing it in a belt around his waist, a cocky grin spreading across his features.
"Kid wasn't half bad was he?" Logan said after stepping forward, having caught the tail end of Remy's DR run.
Scott glanced over his shoulder at the new intruder. "Yeah. Actually, Rogue was just saying how she thought he could give you a run for your money," he echoed, never missing an opportunity to take a jab at his reluctant rival.
Logan scoffed derisively, indignant. "That'll be the day. Plus, the kid here's just biased." He jerked his thumb at Rogue. "Her hormones are doin' the talkin'."
Anna Marie whirled on him in fury. "That ain't true, Logan!"
"Sure it is," he scoffed. "Ya like ol' Gumbo." Logan leaned into her a fraction and sniffed. "I can smell it on ya," he smirked.
Anna's lips thinned into a hard line right before she stormed out of the observation deck, her cheeks on fire. Wolverine laughed brusquely, amused at her little temper tantrum. Sometimes he wondered just how much of him she had absorbed from that time she'd used his regenerating abilities to heal herself.
His laughter ceased when he caught a glimpse of the tall Cajun sauntering off in the direction of the men's locker room. He headed that way without another word, leaving Scott to analyze the Danger Room data while he went off after the Cajun.
x x x
Gambit shut the shower off and grabbed his towel hanging on a nearby hook. He let his long hair drip dry as he wound the towel around himself, moving towards the lockers and pulling out fresh clothes, a bit crumpled from having stuffed them in carelessly. He grabbed a pair of jeans and paused, a slow smirk crossing his face.
"Ah . . . so t' wha' do I owe dis pleasure, mon ami."
Wolverine stepped forward from his post near the locker room doors and stopped, concealing his own startled surprise that the man had been aware of his presence. It almost made start to have a begrudging sense of respect for the the Cajun. But not quite.
"What were ya doin' in 'Ro's room?" Logan asked, bypassing any formalities and witty banter. "Y' were there the other night and last night too; I could smell ya. Why were yer up in Storm's room?
Remy turned back around, laughing under his breath. He pulled the rest of his clothes out of his locker and began tugging them on heedlessly. "T' talk t' my Stormy. But dat obviously didn' happen since she had guests. Dat a problem?"
"She ain't yer Stormy."
Gambit pulled his fitted shirt down over a washboard stomach and froze, a mysterious glint in his eyes. "Non?"
"No. She ain't."
"Why, y' jealous, mon ami?" Gambit's brow rose challengingly.
"Hell no," Logan scoffed, shooting the other man a withering glare. "Just wanted ta be clear."
Gambit chuckled and slammed the locker door closed with a loud clang. He ran his fingers through his wet hair and leaned against the metal doors, his arms crossed along with his ankles, one over the other.
"But since yer the one sneakin' around her bedroom and whatnot, maybe I should be askin' you that question."
"No need t' be jealous over somet'ing dat already belongs t' me," the taller man shrugged nonchalantly.
Wolverine's back straightened so he stood full height. "That's just it, Gumbo. She don't belong ta ya."
"Me an' 'Roro got a connection dat exists outside o' de X-Men. She an' I, we padnats. Been t'gether t'rough thick an' thin. Dere ain' nuttin' y' can do 'bout dat, homme. It is wha' it is."
The Canadian unfolded his arms, his hands twitching by his side. "The hell I can't, bub."
Gambit's eyes went to the other man's clenching fists and back up again, a small smile playing across his lips. Seemingly out of thin air, Gambit produced a pack of cards in his hands, a glowing index finger trailing over the edges slowly, the plasticized cards now a bright magenta.
"Wha' y' plan on doin', homme? Y' wanna make a move?
Wolverine flexed his hands involuntarily. "If it weren't fer 'Ro we wouldn't be talkin' still. I'd be handin' you yer ass on a platter. Like I shoulda done that first day ya dragged yer ass back here."
Gambit laughed then, still skillfully flipping the cards over in his hands. "Oui, blame 'Roro. Suddenly y' care 'bout her so much, right? Where's de redhead y' were sniffin' after?"
A low growl emanated from Logan warningly. "Careful, Cajun."
Gambit chuckled. "Oh, did I hit a soft spot, mon ami?"
Another growl.
"Hnh. Looks like I did. An' it look like Gambit dragged his ass back jus' in time. Y' see, I ain't no fool, mon brave. Gambit ain't gon' see y' hurt Stormy."
"You ain't gotta worry about me hurtin' Storm. Last time I checked it was you that ran out on her in the middle of the night. Imagine . . . runnin' out on 'yer Stormy' like some common coward. Don't seem like yer one ta throw stones, Gumbo."
The other man's black eyes glinted menacingly, the firm clench of his jaw barely imperceptible, but the Wolverine caught it, and he smiled in response to the silent threat.
"Look, I dunno know what kinda history ya have with Storm and ta be honest, Cajun, I don't really care. You just mind yer place where 'Ro is concerned. She may have been yer Stormy back when ya takin' care of her an all, but that was a long time ago. You left and someone else came in ter fill yer spot. Can't say I blame ya, but I'm tellin' ya still: watch yerself."
The entire pack of cards glowed furiously in Gambit's trembling hands as he watched Logan cast one last cutting glance his way before stalking out the locker room.
"Merde!" Gambit cursed loudly, slamming his palm against the metal lockers. The locks on the doors rattled nosily from the impact. Fuming, Remy paced back and forth between the wooden benches, shoving a hand through his hair in frustration.
Wolverine was right. The damn couillon was right. Dammit! He was treading somewhere he had no say anymore. He wasn't used to that. He wasn't accustomed to someone standing in his way where Stormy was concerned. Hadn't she been his first? Hell, he'd been the one that had taken care of her, protected her – where had the Wolverine been then?
He'd left to get his mind together, to get his thoughts back on track, and all of the sudden he's the odd man out? Having to take insults from another man on how he behaved around his Stormy? What ate at him the most was that he was one at fault. If he hadn't left . . .
If he hadn't left . . . what?
That was a question he didn't want to answer right now. No point torturing himself further with fantastical wonderings about the past. Oh, but the present was so cruel.
Gambit tossed his sopping towel into the laundry hamper and flung open the changing room door. He dug into his back pockets for his coveted cigarettes, ending up on one of the verandas overlooking the rear of the mansion, the expansive lawn boasting neatly cut crass, healthy and green. He wondered absently if Storm had anything to do with that. He brought the cigarette to his mouth, sucking in deeply, relishing the small rush of nicotine in his lungs.
After several moments alone with just him and his thoughts, the Cajun heard noise and voices echoing behind him. Warren, Bobby, and Kitty appeared out on the veranda, laughing and joking about something amongst themselves. The trio stopped when they saw Gambit. Anna's emerald eyes danced at the sight of him, breaking out into a broad smile.
Warren ran a hand through his golden-blond hair. "Er, where we interrupting you, man?"
Gambit blew out a cloud of smoke. Yeah, sort of, he thought. "Non. Y' fine. Remy was jus' 'bout t' go back inside anyway." He stubbed out his cigarette prematurely and started for the doors.
"Hey, why don't ya stay and play cards with us?" Anna suggested.
"Yeah," Bobby said, eager to win some money. "Are you any good?"
Gambit grinned. Too easy, this. And he was never one to pass up on a card game. Plus what else was there to do? Sit around and mope?
"D'accord, mon amis." Gambit slid a chair out from under the patio table and dropped down into with a loud sigh. "So," he quipped, hands splayed in mid-air, "who's dealin'?"
Jean was waiting for Scott when he stepped through the door.
The X-Men's leader froze midstride when he caught sight of her, then shook his head, expelling a heavy sigh of exasperation.
"I don't have time for this, Jean."
"Lately you never have time, Scott. What now?"
"I have a phone call to make, and when that's finished, Ororo and I are meeting with the Professor to discuss Kathryn joining the team," he said to Jean.
"So, what? You can't make the call with me in the room?"
"I'd rather not."
Jean Grey bit down her bottom lip. She slowly stood to her feet and shook her head from side to side. "Scott—"
"Logan's probably waiting around for you anyway."
She watched with astonishment, Scott go to the door and hold it open for her. "Why don't you go check if he is?"
The set of his jaw was rigid, same as his back, standing ram rod straight by the door. No wavering. He watched her from behind his ruby-quartz shades and Jean struggled to hold back the waterworks.
The way he was behaving, she couldn't wrap her mind around it. This wasn't her Scott. He never, ever had acted this way towards her before.
As soon as Jean had stepped a foot out into the hall, the door was slamming shut in her face. She stood there, blinking tearfully, until she heard the phone ring on the other side of the door. She could barely make out her fiance's voice as he answered the phone.
"Hello, Emma, how's it going? . . . . Oh, don't I know it . . . . "
The redhead standing face-to-face with the door, simply turned – wiping away the tears that had fallen – and miserably made her way towards the second level where the bedrooms were situated. Once again, finding herself making the trip alone.
Author's Note: TBC next update.