Chapter Nine

"Gee, Mr. Logan, are you trying to take my arm off?" Artie Maddicks griped. The boy protectively clutched at his jarred right arm.

Logan chuckled and waved in apology. "Sorry kid. Ya gotta learn ter toughen up."

Dr. Reyes laughed from where she stood near the sidelines but still tsked at Logan. The New York City born, Puerto Rican woman planted her hands on either of her hips and glared at Logan with mock gravity. "Mind your strength, Logan," she said, her Bronx accent marked with Spanish inflection. "I don't want to have to bind the boy's arm up on his birthday, entiende?"

"I gotcha, I gotcha; don't get yer panties in a twist."

He resumed tossing the pigskin ball into the hands of the boy waiting on the far side of the lawn.

Ororo Munroe stood watch over the colorful scene in reflective approval. It was satisfying to see the students in this manner instead rather than slouched over their desks exhibiting dazed expressions on their faces. Nearly all the students were out on the expansive sward – green and manicured – either playing games, or stuffing their faces over at the picnic tables that had been set with small mountains of food.

It was a weekend, and coincidentally Artie Maddicks' thirteenth birthday.

As a result of an unstable home life before arriving at the Institute, young Artie had revealed in a candid conversation with his instructors that he had yet to ever celebrate a birthday with friends and family during his youth. Realizing the soon approach of his birthday, the adults collectively came together and decided to throw the poor boy a birthday party, commemorating his first year as a young teenager. With a little help from Ororo, the afternoon sky was cloudless, and the breeze glided gently by.

Ororo smiled at the two of them, laughing quietly when Logan threw the ball way out of the boy's reach and Artie would have to sprint vigorously after it.

Scott lingered over by the gas grill and Jean was hanging on his arm, both wearing content expressions. Scott helped man the grill and Jean seemed to help man Scott. She held the platter while he piled the burgers and hot dogs on top of it, gave him the metal tongs when he needed it, and fetched him a drink when it got a little hot for him so near to the grill. Things were going better for the couple, and good ole Scott was being treated like a king. Incidentally, things were going better for Jean and Ororo as well. She and the redhead had even shared a coffee break together yesterday morning amid polite conversation. The only one things weren't going so well with was the Cajun.

"You alright, Ro?"

Ororo turned at the sound of Logan's voice. He stared curiously at her, his large hands wrapped around the ball. "Ya were just zonin' out there fer a moment, are ya okay?"

"Mm-hm, I'm fine – just thinking, that's all."

The sound of the students running, laughing, and screaming could be heard in the background.

"Yer sure that's all?"

"That and you look great in those jeans."

Logan smiled wolfishly. "Careful, darlin'.

He winked at her and began tossing the ball again. She laughed and continued watching the game of catch between them, but Ororo's thoughts kept drifting back to Remy. She hadn't spoken to him in three days, and only saw him enough to catch an elusive glimpse. Since the entire time Ororo had known him, she could count on one hand the number of serious disagreements between them – the biggest being when he had first returned to the mansion after leaving.

A part of her felt like it had been dead those six years he was gone, and when they'd had their reunion, it felt as if that part had been made alive again. They'd been doing so well since then, almost like he hadn't left at all. Another argument between them was the last thing she wanted. Ororo was avoiding the inevitable discussion between them simply because she was scared to reveal too much. Yet, she never was the type to be a victim of her fears for long. Not with her claustrophobia, not when she had first reckoned joining the X-Men, and not even with the slightest chance she could lose her closet friend again.

He and she were so deeply linked just the notion of enduring another potential schism filled Ororo with urgency. It wasn't until her musing had ended that she realized her heart was hammering in her chest and tendrils of dread were anxiously creeping up her spine at her contemplating the possibility of Gambit leaving once more.

She couldn't lose him again.

Ororo shot to her feet, casting one last glance around at the joyous commotion before sprinting towards the mansion, her hair flying behind her. She barreled inside and began taking the steps on the winding staircase two at a time. When she reached Remy's room her chest was heaving slightly, and she stood outside the door praying silently he was in there and knocked twice.

She held her breath, anxiously. Please still be here, please still be here.

The knob twisted and the door swung open, revealing Remy, barefooted, and clad in only a pair of black sweatpants. She let out a deep sigh of relief. She glanced back up and her breath caught again when she really got a look at him. She honestly fought no to ogle the man, but damn it he was beautiful. Lean and muscular, not an extra ounce of body fat on him. Tall and sleek, his long dark hair loose and falling around his shoulders. It'd been a long time since she'd seen him this way, and it looked as if the man had only gotten more handsome. He nearly stole her breath completely.

"Chère?"

Her eyes lifted from his chest. She noticed he smirked slightly and she felt her cheeks grow warm. She'd been caught ogling anyway.

Remy's heart leapt, seeing her on the threshold of his bedroom door, staring at him as if he were the last man on earth. Or a piece of meat. Pride and a tiny bit of hope washed over him, the look in her eyes warmed his entire body down to the soles of his feet.

"I came to apologize, Remy," she said at length. "And I also wanted to talk to you. Do you mind?"

Remy stared at her a second more and nodded. He stepped aside, letting her in and closed the door behind her. Ororo smiled gratefully and glanced around the bedroom. This was the first time she'd actually seen it since his arrival. The inside was clean, but sparse, and minimally decorated. But Remy LeBeau had always been a simple man, the lack of décor and personal possessions didn't surprise her. Playing cards lay strategically on a small table in the corner of the room, and a chair was pulled out, looking as if he'd been playing right before she came in. A pack of cigarettes and a short, half-empty glass filled with brown liquid sat beside the cards.

"You didn't want to join the festivities outside?"

"Non, not me, chère. Maybe some udder time. I'll be sure t' tell de *garçon (* boy) happy birthday though."

Gambit walked ahead of her and sat on the edge of his bed, leaning his weight on his knees. "Y' know, y' ain't got t' 'pologize t' me, Roro," he started. "Remy ain't mad at ya if dat's what yo' figurin'."

"You sure about that?" she said.

"Oui," he responded.

"Then why haven't you been speaking to me? Why have you been hiding away? Avoiding me?"

"What? Y' been missin' me, chère?"

"Yes," she confessed, without a moment's hesitation. The humorous half-smile he wore grew serious as he stared ahead at her. Her own expression was so serious and meaningful his heart sped up some. Remy swallowed and patted the empty space next to him. "C'mere, belle."

She went to his side and sat. He didn't speak for a long moment and neither did she. Finally mustering up the courage, she plowed ahead with what she had intended to tell him.

"Remy, I am sorry for the other day. I didn't mean to sound so bitter. I could never replace you, Remy, and I never want to. I don't know if you know it, but those six years you were gone felt like something was missing inside of me. I'm sorry if I've made you feel you aren't important to me, Remy, because you are. Words cannot explain just how much. I won't lose you again."

She brought her hand up and stroked the side of his face, feeling the slight stubble. "I was so afraid that maybe you had decided to leave again. The thought that you might struck me so hard just now and I ran up here praying you hadn't left again."

"I ain't gon' leave y', chère. Neva again. I told y' dat."

"I was worried anyway. I need you with me."

Remy's eyes closed, and he exhaled a sigh so deep it sounded as if it had come from his very soul. When he opened them again, Ororo saw how they suddenly seemed to glow brighter. They bore into her and her pulse skipped. She let her hand drop and Remy caught it, capturing it tightly. "It ain't y', chère. It's me. Y' don' kno' what it means t' me t' hear y' say dem words, belle."

"It's true," she told him.

"It's jus' hard fo' Remy, chère. I need t' y' too, and dat's jus' it. Y' used t' be mine. Now yo' not and I ain't got used t' it yet. Someone else havin' my Stormy—"

His voice broke off and he turned his face from her. Not wanting her to see his jealousy, his frustration at himself, his anger at the other man for taking her away.

"Remy," Ororo squeezed his hand, her voice soft but firm, "you haven't lost me. Just because I love Logan doesn't mean I'm not still your friend."

Remy winced.

"I'm still here; I'm still your Stormy." Ororo's voice got watery then and she gulped, swallowing back her fear and trepidation. She wanted to be clear and transparent with him, but it was hard and she was scared of leaving herself open. Would he see her differently? She'd never told him, had kept it in for so long. But in the face of his obvious turmoil and doubt, Ororo decided she had to be honest. He deserved that.

"Remy," Ororo placed her hand on his shoulder. "Remy, look at me. Please."

She placed her other hand on the side of his face and gently tugged it in her direction. Gambit met her sparkling blue eyes hesitantly. When they were eye to eye, his heart nearly stopped.

She was unbelievably beautiful. Her flawless toffee skin, the wide, slightly slanted tourmaline blue eyes rimmed with long, dark lashes that shone out with uncharacteristic vulnerability. Her full, wide lips, rosy and parted ever-so-slightly. It took every ounce of his inner strength not to take those lips. His mouth was nearly dry with wanting, craving the moistness of hers.

She was a goddess.

Gambit thought back to the other night. Seeing her kissing Wolverine in his mind's eye. Her hair mussed, wearing a lazy grin. Gambit was no fool. The thought of the Wolverine touching on Ororo, his hands on her, taunting him with that smug smirk. If he hadn't kept to himself these last two days he was sure violence would've occurred.

He came partially out of his trance when he heard Ororo's voice speaking to him.

"Did you know . . . did you know that I—all those years ago—"

She hesitated and Remy frowned. "Did I kno' what, chère?" he urged. "Y' can tell me."

Her bottom lip started to tremble and she looked away. Her eyes began to moist. She closed her eyes and whispered and the tear fell.

"That I loved you . . ."

At first he thought he'd heard wrong. The words had been so soft and quiet. So he croaked a tremulous "what?" and waited for confirmation that he was, indeed, hearing things.

"I said I was in love with you . . . after I'd returned to my adult form. I realized that I had fallen in love with you during that time we spent together. I never told you. I never told anyone . . ."

So he wasn't imagining it. Ororo Munroe, his Stormy, his padnat, had said she was in love with him. Had been in love with him. The concept gave Remy pause. He just stared at her, blinking dumbly, his mind struggling to grasp it, but his heart felt like it would burst for joy at the revelation. The combination of such varied, potent emotion nearly made him sick.

"Stormy," he choked, forcing his vocal chords to work. "Y' serious, mon amie? You—You really loved, Remy? As in—?"

Ororo's hair slipped down into her face as she hung her head and nodded slowly. "Yes, I did."

Remy sprung from the bed and fell to his knees in front of her, grabbing her by the arms and glaring at her wildly. His deep drawl was pleading and desperate. "Why didn't y' tell me, chèrie, why? Why couldn't y' tell me y' loved me befo' dis?"

"I was going to but you left! I would've at the right time. I had a crush on you as that lost, little girl. We joked about it playfully but never took it seriously. Then all of the sudden I was a woman with real womanly feelings and I actually loved you! I couldn't say anything at first because I was so scared. I was scared at the change. I didn't know how you'd take it. I was afraid you didn't reciprocate . . . then you suddenly leave without a word and—"

Ororo stopped, more tears slipping down her face.

Remy both watched and listened in horror. What the hell had he done? She had loved him? After all this time? Not as a brother, or friend, or partner, but really loved him?

"Y' shoulda told me, chère," he insisted, shaking her a bit. "Mon Dieu, femme, y' shoulda told me."

"I'm telling you now. Why do you think I was so devastated when I found you had gone? Simply because a friend had left?"

Remy didn't have an answer. He stared, clinging to her every word.

"Of course that wasn't all. It was because the person I had just realized I loved more than anything had left me without a trace and took my heart with him." She wiped at a small tear that was forming.

"I never felt I truly got it back until that day you returned to me. So please, Remy, never, ever underestimate how deeply I care for you again. I mean it. Never."

Silence fell. Broken only by the sound of light sniffles.

"Merde," Remy cursed. Why didn't y' tell me, ma coeur? Why?

He threw his arms around her waist and squeezed, burying his head into her chest. He felt his eyes begin to burn, but he fought against it. He was breathing deeply, almost panting. Ororo stroked his hair, running her fingers up and down the hair on his nape. His eyes squeezed shut and his arms tightened around her. She could feel him trembling.

"It's okay, Remy. It's alright," she said softly, feeling the tension in his body, his back, his arms.

This new knowledge completely turned Remy LeBeau's world upside down. He'd never felt so stupid! Running away . . . To know she'd loved him . . .

Did that mean she didn't anymore?

She continued soothingly rubbing his back, looking down at his head, when she heard him mumbling something into her blouse. She stroked his silky hair, her brow crinkled. "What did you say, Remy?"

He brought his head up, his eyes searching her face desperately. "I said do y' still love me, Roro?"

Her body froze; her hand on his back came to rest on his shoulder. Gambit felt her body go frozen, her heart skip in her chest. He lifted his head, gazing warily up at her face. If he learned she had feelings for him now – that she loved him still – then nothing could keep him from her, nothing. The Wolverine be damned.

"Remy, my friend," he began reticently. "I love Logan."

"Non, chère," he shook his head. "Dere's mo' t' it den dat. Dere has t' be."

"No, Remy. That was—"

"How could y' fall out o' love wit' someone jus' like dat? Dat easily?"

"Six years ago, Remy. Six years!"

"Yo' lyin'," he yelled, jumping to his feet. "Don' lie t' me, girl!"

Ororo stared at him in shock. Mouth agape, eyes wide, heart pounding.

"Damn it," Remy hissed, rubbing his hands over his face. He raked his hands through his hair, struggling to stay calm, level-headed. He needed answers. It was confession time. Yes, he would put his feelings out there on the line, tell her all he had kept in for so long, but she was going to do the same.

"Listen, chère. Remy needs y' t' be honest wit' him. No mo' hidin . . . no mo' holdin' back secrets from me. Please."

"I am being honest, Remy. I told you, I love Log—"

"Den y' feel not'ing fo' me?"

"You're my closest, dearest friend – that's the way I love you."

"Six years. Six years. Y' mean t' tell me I lived miserably wit'out y' fo' six years when we could've been t'gether? When I coulda had you?"

Damn, it was a bitter pill to swallow. Someone else receiving the love he should have. Ororo stood to her feet and squinted at him. "What are you saying, Remy?"

He whirled around, catching her staring strangely at him. "What did you mean by that?"

He shook his head and laughed aloud in disbelief. "Y' really don't kno'?

"Should I?" she breathed, small, shaky.

Remy nodded, a slow spark glinting in his eye. Then, with deliberate pace, he began to approach her slowly, moving towards her like a panther. Ororo's heart was in her chest. She could vaguely hear the kids outside playing amidst the sound of her roaring pulse in her ears. A cloud passed over the sun outside, greying the sky, and throwing the room in a dim shadow.

He began closing the space between them and for the life of her she couldn't look away from him. To keep her heart from pounding. It was like she had no control, she was sure her eyes were wide with fear. The dark, intent look on his face and in his red/black eyes. When she backed up, he followed.

Her back hit the wall just as his chest brushed against hers. "Why y' so nervous, chère? I'm only yo' friend, right?"

"Right. Y-Yes."

"Hmm. . ." He pressed up against her body.

Again, Remy LeBeau was no fool. He could feel her heart thudding from her chest into his and her blue eyes looked sultry and half-lidded. It was an enticing sight but it also meant one thing.

She wanted him.

"Den let me kiss you."

"What!" she gasped. "No!"

"It's not like it would mean anyt'ing, oui?

"I-I can't," she stammered.

"Why not?"

She felt his hand slipping silently along her thigh, uncovered by the cotton shorts she wore.

"It isn't right."

"Jus' one. Jus' one t' prove y' don' want me. Dat y' don't love or feel anyt'ing fo' me."

"Remy—"

He dragged his mouth towards hers. "Jus' one."

((( Storm. Gambit. Convene in the War Room please. )))

The message echoed in their heads, making Ororo start. "Merde," Remy groaned.

She avoided his glare and slid out from under him. "The Professor wants us. We have to go. I'll let you put your clothes on." Her voice was crazy shaky and her eyes had darkened to a deep, royal blue.

He grabbed her by the wrist as she passed and vowed: "Dis ain't over, chère."

The Professor, Wolverine, and Kathryn were already in the War Room when Ororo walked in. She stood next to Wolverine. He cast a curious look her way and laid a hand on her shoulder.

"Where ya been, Ro? Ya just up 'n left the party."

"Oh, I was inside . . . talking."

"To who?" Logan frowned.

The door opened again and admitted Remy. His eyes cut over to Storm and Logan. A meaningful look passed between the two friends before he strode over towards the opposite side of the room and stood, now fully clothed and donning his signature leather duster.

The Professor spoke. "Now that Gambit's here I can begin briefing you all."

"Aren't the others coming?" That was from Kathryn.

"Only you four are going," said Professor Xavier. "It should be a simple mission and the others are still supervising over Artie's party and the rest of the students. I'll explain the details, then you all will suit up and head out."

"Okay, Chuck," Logan grunted. "So what is it?"

Author's Note: The proverbial 'poo' hits the fan next chapter. Please don't hate me for it :-) I do have a purpose laid out for this story. Thank you greatly to the readers who've commented/reviewed :D

To Be Continued