Chapter Six
"The kid should be back now, shouldn't she?"
She stared up at Logan. "Are you worried?"
"Nope. Jus' don't like her 'round the Cajun."
Ororo's eyes narrowed at him. "Logan . . ." she warned.
"Alright, alright." The man held his hands up in a show of surrender.
"In case you haven't noticed, Rogue is a grown woman. She's not the same scared little teenager you brought to the mansion years ago. And for your information, Rogue is perfectly safe with Gambit. If anyone should know that it's me. I'd trust Gambit with my life, and I have. He's never let me down."
"Yeah." Logan scoffed. "'Cept that time he left ya high and dry without a word."
"He's apologized for that." The Canadian rolled his eyes.
"And it's not like he left me stranded in a desert somewhere. He brought me back to the mansion and made sure I was alright before he left, Logan."
"Ya don't have ta defend him ta me, 'Ro. I know Gumbo's yer friend and all that."
"Obviously I do. He's a part of the team, Logan. And an X-Man. Your teammate."
Logan sighed. He bit back his words for the sake of peace. Inciting an argument with Ororo wasn't something a person should do if they were wise, not even the "world's most dangerous man," Wolverine.
"And Rogue is the lucky one to be in his company," she added.
"That so?" Logan's brow rose, his thick arm still draped around Ororo. "A bit jaded ain't ya, darlin'?"
Ororo shrugged and smiled gently. Logan let his mouth curve into a grin and leaned in to kiss her curling lips. "Yer even luckier ta be here with me, ya know." Another peck.
"Aww, c'mon," Bobby groaned from the hallway, a bowl of potato chips in hand. He walked into the living room with Kitty in tow, the newest sanctioned X-Man on the team. She'd just been made an official member last week.
"Ah, shut it Popsicle. You and Kit Kat over there ain't no better."
"Touchè." Bobby sighed contentedly as he sank into the couch. His girlfriend followed and nestled beside him. After being without PDA the whole time him and Rogue had dated, Bobby seemed eager to make up for it in spades with the young Kathryn Pryde. Not that the younger girl seemed to mind. She tossed her dark brown hair over her shoulder and laid her head on Bobby's chest, her legs curled up on the sofa, mirroring an exact imitation of Ororo's position with Wolverine.
Several minutes later, the two couples were joined by Warren walking in with his girlfriend attached to his arm.
"Hello, Warren, Elizabeth," Ororo greeted the newcomers. She was surprised to see the beautiful, violet-haired, Asian woman at the mansion. The X-Men in general rarely saw the woman as she worked with an overseas division called S.T.R.I.K.E., which took her out of the country often. Elizabeth "Betsy" Braddock was a gifted martial artist and fellow telepath like Jean, who had been in a relationship with the wealthy Warren Worthington for nearly a year now.
"'Hello, Ororo, Bobby, Kathryn, and of course Wolverine," the woman returned in a posh British accent.
"Ay, Bets." "Hello, Betsy," the group greeted simultaneously.
"What is this couple's night?" Angel asked no one in particular as he and Elizabeth took the love seat next to Kitty and Bobby.
Bobby shrugged. "I'm just lazin' watching TV."
"Per usual, right, Drake?" Worthington teased.
Bobby casually flipped him the bird and Warren laughed.
Nearly an hour later, the door to the mansion slammed opened, and everyone turned to see Rogue and Gambit just trailing in from a night out.
"Hi, everybody," Rogue waved, breezing in to the room. Gambit lingered in the hall.
"What're ya'll heathens up to?"
From the light in the southern woman's eyes and the enormous smile gracing her face, Ororo concluded the two must have had a nice time. Though, she shuddered to think of what that time together might've entailed, knowing Remy the way she did. Oddly, for some reason the prospect bothered her. She chalked it up to – for the first time – having to share Gambit with someone else. Unknown to all the others, even the X-Men she called family, there was a sense of ownership that lay between the two friends that Ororo figured would probably always exist between them. Escaping life or death situations while bonding over the mutual rush of adrenaline that came from successfully swiping a coveted prize had a way of creating unbreakable bonds. "Thick as thieves" as the saying goes.
"So," Kitty sidled next to Rogue and asked in a low tone, "how was your date?"
Rogue began to blush, leaning in close to Kathryn, replaying in her ear the details of her and Gambit's date. Ororo smiled at the two and turned around to inquire the same question of Gambit and found he wasn't there. Ororo frowned and turned back around.
"Logan?"
"Yeah?" he grunted.
"I'll be right back, okay?"
She got up off his lap, but turned back to look at him when she felt his hand gently tug at her wrist.
"Where ya goin', 'Ro?"
"I just need to see about something, quickly."
Logan's eyes shot over to where Gambit had been standing earlier and then back to Ororo.
"Ya mean yer goin' ta see about Gumbo," he said.
Ororo sighed lightly. "I'll only be a minute, Logan. I just want to know if everything went okay."
"Well from the way Marie and Kitty are chattering over there, I'd say it went good," he insisted, jerking his head in the two women's direction.
Ororo gave him a look. "Logan . . ."
"Fine then, 'Ro, just be quick about it."
Ororo nodded and excused herself from the room, feeling Logan's eyes on her back as she made her way up the stairs to Remy's bedroom. She knocked on the door and pressed her ear to its surface to listen for any sign he was there. Hearing nothing, she straightened back up and shoved her hands in the pockets of her jeans, stumped on where to look next as the man could've been anywhere in the large mansion.
She thought about it a moment before guessing he might have gone out to the lake. Preparing to walk down to the small lake and see for certain, Ororo first jogged up to her bedroom to grab a pair of shoes for the short journey. She stepped inside her bedroom and opened the closet doors when she caught sight of her curtains fluttering in the breeze that blew in from her opened balcony doors.
Ororo let the shoes she held slip from her hands to the floor and closed the doors to her closet, walking over towards the balcony and stepping out on to it in her barefeet. She turned her head and caught a cigarette glowing against the dark of the night, the smelling of smoke slowly wafting towards her.
Her eyes clouded over, summoning a gentle gust to transport her over to the roof where Remy was sitting in the dark. She walked over to him as soon as her feet touched the cool tiles.
"Bonjour, chère," he greeted her in his syrupy Cajun drawl.
"Remy. What are you doing out here alone?"
"Smokin'," he answered. He blew out a stream of smoke, then tapped a finger against his temple. "And t'inkin'."
Ororo crouched down next to him, drawing up her long legs. She brought her lengthy hair over her shoulders to keep from sitting on it.
"Well I can see you smoking," she frowned a little, waving a bit of the smoke away, "but I do not know what you're thinking about; care to share?" Ororo smiled softly, gently nudging him with one of her shoulders.
"Ain' nuttin' much t' talk 'bout, chère," he breathed heavily. Remy took another puff of his cigarette and blew it out. "Jus' t'ings on my mind. Don' feel like worryin' anybody wit' 'em."
"So you would worry me by not talking instead?"
Remy shrugged and inwardly Ororo sighed. She tried a different route. "Did you and Rogue have a nice time?"
"Hnh?"
"You and Rogue – did you both have a nice time?" she reiterated.
"Oh. Oui. Anna's a sassy gal. I t'ink she had a good time."
"And you?"
Remy nodded. "It was nice t' get out o' de mansion fo' a while. Still gettin' used t' actually stayin' somewhere permanently. Y' kno' roamin' is in Remy's blood, chère."
"I think you've done enough roaming, Remy," she told him, her voice firming unconsciously.
"Non worries, chèrie. I ain' gone leave y', girl." He knowingly voiced her unspoken concern. "Remy told y' he wouldn' do dat again an' he meant it. Y' don' trust dis Cajun no more?"
"No, no, Remy, of course I do." Ororo waved offhandedly. "Never mind me. It's just . . . paranoia, I suppose.
For a long length of time, the two friends set on the mansion roof in contemplative silence. The night was pleasant outside, a refreshing ghost of a breeze blew periodically, rustling both dark and white hair and feeling good against their skin. Then out of the blue, Remy asked her:
"Wha' made y' start t' fall in love wit' de Wolverine, 'Roro?"
Her head turned sharply towards him and her mouth parted in surprise. "What!"
Remy plucked out another cigarette, lit it, and asked again. "Y' heard me, girl. I asked how y' came t' fall in love wit' Wolverine." He wouldn't meet her glare.
She stared at him several seconds longer and then gave a slow, thoughtful lift of her shoulders. "We are kindred spirits – Logan and I; we are alike in spirit."
Gambit figured he knew the why behind her statement (knowing Ororo as he did), but that didn't stop him from inquiring of her. "Wha' y' mean by dat, chère?"
"We're both a force of nature in a sense," she mused by way of explanation. "There's a wildness, untamed that flows through our veins. He is the Wolverine, and I am the Storm. There are differences, mind, but at our essence . . . there lies nature's fury. And it can be both a curse and a blessing."
"Dat de only reason?"
"You probably wouldn't want to hear the others."
Remy grimaced.
"Didn't think so."
Gambit sighed and rested his arms on his bent knees, burning cigarette still between his fingers, curling smoke drifting from its end.
His spirit was low, his heart felt increasingly heavy, and for a split second, he wondered if he should've came back. Yet, just as he was assailed by the small flicker of doubt brought on by regret and melancholia, Ororo made short work of the distance separating them and scooted behind him so that his body was trapped by her endless legs. "Come here," she told him, and pulled him towards her. He sighed again and did as he was told, leaning back and laying himself against her chest. Ororo brought her arms around and held him, her chin coming to rest on the silkiness of his dark hair. Remy swallowed with some difficulty, his dulled red/black eyes falling close as he heard her concerned voice breeze by his ear.
"What it is, beloved? What bothers you?"
He felt her slender fingers rustle gently through his long hair and his formerly moot tongue loosened in his relaxed state. "Jus' tired, chère."
"Hollow of heart?"
"Oui, y' could say dat."
"Why?" Her fingers stilled within his hair, awaiting his answer.
". . . I—regrets, chère. Ol' regrets."
"About things past, such as The Thieves' Guild?"
"Non."
The African woman released a soft breath through her nose. "We all have regrets, Remy, but that doesn't stop us from having a prosperous future if we so desire." She paused, and carried on candidly. "You know, the other day out by the lake, when we talked . . . I listened to you and I felt regret that I had not been able to be with you those six years – to have left with you."
Gambit leaned his head back and gazed up at her curiously. "Really?"
Ororo nodded down at him. "Mm-hm."
"Y' would've gone wit' me, chère?" he asked disbelievingly.
Ororo's ice blue stare was heavy and piercing, deciding once again to be candid with her closet friend. "Remy . . . I would've followed you anywhere . . . Did you not know that?"
His heart thudded deeply in his chest, so hard and so fast, he was surprised she couldn't hear it; the way she was looking at him didn't help. Her blue eyes in the surrounding dark glowed mystically, aided by the moonlight. She was so unfathomably beautiful it was hard to believe that she was anything more than a fanciful dream. But the feel of her around him certified her reality and sharpened his own. Everything about his life was heightened when Ororo was with him. He wondered if she did that for others? She probably did.
The suspended moment in time the two friends shared, there on top of the roof, seemed shrouded by a surreal-like haze. They stared and each respectively held the other in their sway. Gambit noticed the cotton feel inside his mouth and realized it was slightly open. He gulped and ran his tongue over his lips, moistening his mouth. Ororo's eyes seemed to dilate. For the first time in several lengthy seconds, Ororo blinked, and in turn was abruptly brought out of the fog.
Ororo gave Gambit a – vaguely uneasy – closed-mouth smile, but his own expression remained unchanged. Under his head, he could feel her heart rapidly beating in her chest.
"I'm going to head on inside," she said to him, waving back in the direction from whence she'd came. "I hadn't intended to stay out here so long."
She stood up without another word and Remy sat up to let her go, untangling himself from her, though not without some distant shred of disappointment. Ororo brushed off her pants and began to leave. She suddenly heard Gambit's voice behind her and she stopped and turned around when she heard him speak.
"Heard Scotty Boy and Jean arguin' out on de terrace when Anna an' I was 'bout t' come inside earlier," he told her. That was unexpected. Remy idly fiddled with the lighter now in his hand. "Didn' sound good, chère."
Ororo took a half-second to process what he'd told her. While she wasn't delighted by the news of Scott and Jean's troubles she couldn't say she was exactly surprised. It had been a long time coming.
"Scott is tired of the way she's been treating him; I know exactly how he feels. Jean has not been a good friend for a while now, and she's been an even worse fiancée. The people she's hurt are just now starting to let her know how awful she's been. If those two are arguing, Jean really is the one to blame."
"It sounded pretty bad, chère. She was yellin' at him 'bout some femme named Emma, an' when she brought it up, Scotty went back inside an' slammed de door. She was still out dere cryin' when we went into de house."
"I'm sorry to hear that."
Remy turned to her. "She needs you, chère."
Ororo stiffened then, her chin raising defiantly. "She didn't need me when she was skirting around with Logan." Her words came out cool.
"But Remy sees yo' fo'gave him." Gambit's look was discerning.
"Jean is my sister. She's practically blood," Ororo argued, suddenly mildly defensive. "The betrayal was worse on her end, and unlike Jean, Logan stepped up, admitted his mistakes, and decided to end the fling he had with her."
"So she never tried t' 'pologize t' you?"
"Remy—"
He threw up his hands. "All I'm sayin', chère, is dat yo' betta den dis. C'mon . . . my Stormy too noble and kind fo' dis kind o' bitterness. It ain' like y', chère. Don' let yo' anger get in de way o' makin' good wit' yo' friend and soeur (*sister), chèrie."
He saw Ororo drop her head and went in for the kill. "I'm sure bein' wit'out y' dese last couple weeks has been hard on de femme." He paused and smirked at her charmingly. "Trust me, Remy kno' wha' it's like t' be wit'out yo' Stormy."
Ororo glanced over at him from beneath her long dark lashes and felt a slow, reticent grin begin to take over her face. Gambit winked at her, and no amount of resistance on her part could stop the wide, open-mouthed smile on her face.
"Scoundrel."
"Ah, true, ma belle. But y' love me fo' it anyway."
Ororo considered it a split-second and nodded resignedly. "You're right. I love you in spite of — in spite of anything, really. You can do no wrong in my eyes, Etienne."
His heart flip-flopped again. Her tone suggested she was surprised herself by her conclusion. He'd always cherished how she framed his middle name with that soft African-accented tone of hers.
She turned and resumed walking, tossing clearly over her shoulder: "You win, Cajun. I'll be sure to speak with her tomorrow. Don't be out late, Scott told me he wants to schedule a team danger room session in the morning – just a heads up. Goodnight, Remy."
New Orleans' own Prince of the Thieves' Guild watched her departure, catching the last of her pale hair just as she dropped back unto the balcony and inside her loft.
He rubbed his hands over his bristly face and sighed, mixed feelings churning tumultuously inside his gut. It was a long time after him and Ororo's conversation on the roof before he found his way to his own room, his heart and mind divided.
He thought it had gone away. Not dead – never completely dead, but dead enough so wouldn't feel this confliction. Nevertheless, it was alive and well, and furthermore, it was quickening – becoming stronger. As was his anxiety and longing.
Remy LeBeau was the victim of a theft . . . and Ororo Munroe was the thief.
Author's Note: Not especially plot moving, but very necessary. Any feedback would be appreciated. TBC next update.