Chapter Fifteen

"What was it dat y' dreamed 'bout, girl?"

Gambit studied Ororo carefully from across one of the pillows that lay between them, his sharp eyes raking over every flawless feature. Beside him, Ororo sighed wearily, her gaze lowering back down to the mattress. Gambit raised her chin with his fingers and forced her eyes back up to meet his own.

"Chère, tell me," he urged, flicking an errant strand of hair out of her face.

The storm had past quieted and everyone that had run up to check on Ororo earlier during the small-scale maelstrom had long gone back to their beds. Gambit, himself, had remained. He alone with Ororo. Both of them stretched out on her cool bedroom floor, lost in each other, kissing and touching without the slightest hint of inhibition between them.

Surprisingly, Ororo found herself unable to let go, needing him so badly. With a desperation that almost frightened her. The two friends and ex-thieves kept that position for a long time, acutely aware of the gravity of what they had both initiated with each other, but neither of them choosing to speak of it just then. As sure as anything though, it was felt.

As for Ororo, she only wanted to savor it for a while. Too savor him, pressed against her as he was, and for once not resist what it was she felt for him, the Cajun. Even as she knew that perhaps it was a mite selfish of her. There'd be time to ponder the rationality of it all later, Ororo reasoned within herself. Right then, however, she simply wanted to be held by this man.

When their heated kisses had cooled and gradually subsided, Remy and Ororo crawled back into the bed and lay down beside each other. It was several minutes later when he interrupted the quiescence with his softly-uttered question.

The combination of warmth created by their bodies nestled so closer together amid the quiet, mingled effectively with Ororo's lingering exhaustion from earlier, and seemed to loosen the tight-lipped goddess' reticent tongue. Uncharacteristically so, Ororo found herself sharing her scattered thoughts with him without the normal hesitation.

"Remy, remember those nightmares I used to have? Back when you still took care of me? About the plane crash and my . . . and my parents?"

He nodded solemnly.

"In that dream I always see the walls caving in and falling down on us. I always hear my father yelling for my mother and me. And–And right when the ceiling collapses I can feel my mother's body covering mine, protecting me. Even as everything caves in, I hear her screams as we're buried under the rubble-together. And then all the noise stops . . ."

"Dat's terrible, 'Roro," responded Gambit.

Ororo nodded. "It has always been the same dream each time. The thing is, over the years I have very rarely had the dream. Only flashes when my claustrophobia flared up."

Gambit listened on carefully. "But t'night was diff'rent," he supplied knowingly.

"Yes," Ororo said, "tonight was different. Logan was there and you were too."

Gambit hesitated for a moment. "Yeah?" he croaked, then asked her: "Den what?"

Ororo stared up at the ceiling. "I manage to make my way out of the rubble. There are cuts and bruises all over me and I'm filthy with the dirt and debris. But the building is still crumbling down around me and I'm scared and at a total lost for what to do. The floor beneath me is starting to crack and I'm crying and panicking . . ."

"Go on."

"Then you and Logan appear on the other side of a great dividing crevice splitting the room in two. Logan is calling out to me to come to him, and you are calling out to me to come to you."

Gambit's eyes bore into the side of her face. "So what d' you do?"

Ororo tried to swallow around the lump in her throat before continuing, and her eyes slowly began filling up.

"I'm confused and fearful. The ceiling is falling down all around me and the gulf between you two and myself is growing and I know I must make a decision and choose whom to run to before it's too late but I can't. I look at the both you pleading, calling for me - to save me - but I am stuck; I don't know what to do. I cry and call out to both of you, but I-I don't move. It's like I am frozen . . ." A tear bubbled over and slid out of the corner of her eye.

"And-And just when I make my decision and go to leap over the chasm, the both of you disappear. The rubble falls and buries me u-under." Ororo sniffed and wiped hastily at her wet face, staring blindly up at the ceiling above them.

"Hush, now, chèrie." He leaned over and brushed his hand through her hair, then laid a comforting hand on her face.

"Oh, Remy I could feel the lost, the anguish. My inability to choose . . . to know what was right—" Ororo shook her head with what felt like the helplessness of it all.

"'Jus' a dream, Stormy. Wit' everyt'ing dat's happened lately—no wonder yo' dreamin' t'ings like dat," he told her, trying to offer a comfort he didn't feel himself. Her retelling left him disturbed.

"So you're not going anywhere? You'll stay with me, Remy?"

She didn't say: "No matter what or whom I choose?" That bit was left unspoken. But the silent question seemed to hover invisibly in the air just the same.

Gambit's eyes roamed over the lines of her stunningly beautiful face. The way she stared at him with such gravity, her tone and expression imploring him. Almost a plead.

Gambit swallowed back his own uncertainties at that moment, to lean gently forward and capture her lips. He released them only to capture them once more.

He wanted to be strong for her. He'd always wanted to be strong for her. His Stormy.

Ororo sighed against his mouth and opened hers further to receive more him, of his taste. Her eyes fluttered shut, blissfully. Her heart jumped delightfully in her chest. He tasted . . . wonderful.

The Cajun weaved his fingers through Ororo's white strands and she shifted, invading Remy's personal space and climbing over onto his lap. Ororo hovered over him slightly and grabbed the sides of head, forcing his face upward as she kissed him more deeply. His stubble rubbed against her cheek. Fire churned in Remy's gut and he groaned as his tongue slipped past Ororo's lips and even deeper into her mouth.

Ororo's skin felt hot, she could feel the warmth and heat, that distinct throb between her legs. She'd never wanted him more than at this moment, feeling him grow aroused beneath her. Suddenly Ororo felt their position shift, and then Gambit was hovering over her. He laid her down, back against the bed, and when he was settled on top of her, crushed his lips against hers. Ororo moaned deep in her throat and brought her leg up around his waist.

She was enjoying their passion immensely, but just as soon as it started it stopped. Before she could process what had happened, Gambit had loosened his hold and tore his mouth from hers. He looked off to the side, panting slightly.

Ororo was puzzled.

"What—? What is it, Remy?" she breathed heavily. Her eyes, almost silvery in her passion, searched his out questioningly. She hadn't wanted him to stop.

Remy sensed her confusion and sighed. How to answer that question? How to tell her that he wanted her, right now. So urgently, so badly it was honestly painful, but that he was unsure as to whom she was thinking about in her desire? And was it – her desire – all for him? Only for him?

"Etienne," Ororo prodded. Remy closed his eyes against the sound of her lips forming his middle name. He secretly loved when she called him that.

"Chère, I—"

Gambit shook his head. Perplexed, slowly Ororo removed herself from beneath him and scooted back over to her side of the bed. Gambit straightened up, sitting on the edge of the bed, and ran his hand through his hair.

Ororo watched him silently. He could feel her eyes on his back. For a moment, Gambit just glanced idly around the wide, open room, noting with much appreciation the various plants dotting the interior. Each one of them beautifully exotic—just like Ororo. He peered down at the bed and out of nowhere, an unbidden question pierced through his thoughts: How many times had the Wolverine been in her bed? Perhaps in the same place he currently sat. Did she wish it was him there now with her now or the Wolverine instead?

This new train of thought disturbed him and, without warning, he jumped to his feet. "Remy goin' out fo' a smoke," he announced suddenly. "Y' should get some rest, Stormy."

"But, Remy—"

"I'll be back."

"Wait, Remy . . . what's wrong? Why will you not tell me what it is?"

Gambit sighed, turning back around, and bent down far enough to kiss her bare shoulder. She noticed he purposely avoided her eyes.

"Tomorrow, chère. Sleep."

Ororo didn't fuss. Within an hour, the sun would began peeking over the horizon, and the X-Men were scheduled to a team Danger Room exercise following breakfast.

Things always looked much different in the light. Gambit knew this, more than most, having lived in the shadows most of his life. But the million dollar question – the one that had Gambit anxious and disconcerted was: But will she mean any of it in the light of morning? When there were no nightmares to drive her into his arms.

x x x

"Rogue, behind you!" Cyclops hollered.

The ground beneath her feet shook. Rogue regained her balance just long enough to turn around and face the towering form of a sentinel hovering menacingly above her, its arm poised and ready to shoot out a deadly projectile. She gasped in horror just as Angel swooped in swiftly, catching her up in his arms and flying her out of harm's way. Scott ran in and stopped several yards in front of the metal giant, releasing his optic beams with incredible accuracy and struck the robot soundly.

The machine's mechanical arm fell to the ground and it staggered back precariously, its exposed circuits sparking. But before it could right itself once more, a glowing playing card whistled through the air and hit the middle of its chest. One and then another. Below it, the X-Men took cover as the monstrosity exploded. Scrap bits and pieces of metal raining down upon them.

"Alright. Computer—end program," Cyclops said.

The damaged sentinel disappeared along with the four others that had been finished off earlier during the exercise, along with the various pieces strewn around the room. Within an instant, the room reverted back to its gleaming, polished state.

"Please, everyone huddle in."

Cyclops beckoned them in and took a deep breath. "That's all for today, we'll have another one mid-week. I know we were missing Storm today, but all around, nice job." He looked over at Marie.

"Rogue—"

"Ah know, Cyclops. Not my best, I know. Ah'm sorry," she pre-empted. Rogue brushed back the sweaty stripe of white hair that had fallen down in her face. Cyclops looked at her a moment and nodded, choosing to simply leave it at that. She'd not been at her best today. He knew it, the team knew it, and she did as well. No point drawing attention to the obvious and embarrassing her further.

"Angel, great save. You reacted swiftly and protected your fellow teammate. Very good work."

"You're the man, Wings," laughed Bobby. He clapped Warren hard on the shoulder and shook him. Kathryn rolled her eyes.

"Shut up, Popsicle," Warren said, shoving him away playfully.

"Yes, shut up, Bobby," his girlfriend chimed.

"What!"

Cyclops rolled his eyes behind his visor and turned toward Gambit who'd remained unusually quiet the entire exercise, but performed so skillfully it was almost unnerving. Scott was still amazed at how formidable Remy LeBeau was, even after several months at the mansion and seeing him perform. He knew Gambit was a dangerous man, raised as Prince of the Thieves' Guild, son of the notorious Jean-Luc LeBeau of New Orleans. But seeing it was an entirely different matter. Anyone who found themselves as LeBeau's enemy would be most unfortunate, and Scott knew they were fortunate to have him amongst their ranks. The only other man he'd seen nearly as deadly in battle was the Wolverine.

"Gambit."

The Cajun raised his chin slightly. "Incredible work. 'Nuff said."

Gambit nodded shortly. "D'accord, mon ami," he drawled in that syrupy Cajun accent. Too cool and too charming for his own good. Rogue tried to ignore how attractive the man was, but was it difficult. And it annoyed her. She snorted impatiently. Folding her arms against her chest all the while thinking ruefully to herself: Handsome bastard.

"Yeah, Cajun, that was awesome," Bobby was saying. "I haven't seen anyone cut through a DR session like that since Wolverine! And he's not here anymore!"

Kathryn groaned inwardly at her knuckleheaded boyfriend. "Bobby!"

"What!"

She jerked her head discreetly in Rogue's direction. Warren just face-palmed himself. The southern brunette's face looked tight and her green eyes were sad. Rogue was glaring down at her feet. This was one of the times Rogue was glad she and Bobby hadn't worked out. The insensitive, immature—

"Oh," Bobby piped, his face reddened with the realization, and he had the decency at least to appear sheepish, "Er, sorry."

Cyclops exhaled and decided then and there to dismiss them all and forgo his usual nearly hour long rundown of the exercise. Not today.

Rogue was the first one out of the room, the automatic doors hissing shut behind her as she bolted from through the doors. Kathryn grabbed Bobby and began pulling him out of the room.

"Ow," Bobby complained. The pretty brunette let go of the hold she had on his ear to slap him about the shoulders.

"You twit! You how upset Rogue is about Logan leaving . . . and what if Storm had been present! Her feelings would've been hurt too! I swear you are about the most ignorant . . ."

"I'm sorry, babe! Honest!" Bobby apologized, trotting after his girlfriend. Warren shook his head and followed out behind them. The door closing on other two's argument.

Once they were alone, Scott turned to Remy. "So, how's Ororo? I mean I know you were with her last night."

"Stormy's alright."

"I figured when she failed to show up to the session today that she was probably tired still."

"Yeah. I t'ink she needs de rest."

Scott nodded. "You seemed kind of quiet today," he directed towards Gambit. "Is something going on?"

"Wit' what?

"You. I get the impression something's bothering you."

The Cajun was silent a few moments, then after a second he sighed and shrugged. "Don' really feel comf'table sharin' it right now, mon ami. Bit complicated."

"It involves Ororo."

Gambit ran a hand across his prickly jaw and chuckled bitterly. "Y' could say dat."

"Hmm." This surprised Scott. He'd seen Remy and Ororo last night after Ororo had woken the entire mansion with her nightmare and everything had seemed fine. More than fine judging from that lip lock he'd witnessed along with Jean. He'd figured that the two had made some serious progress. Now, he was hearing this from LeBeau.

"Anything I can do?"

The Danger Room doors slid open suddenly and Ororo rushed in. She stopped abruptly in her tracks when she noticed the two men staring directly at her. Her gaze went from Remy to Scott.

"Oh, I, um . . . I missed the session, I see."

Remy couldn't help but smirk at her. He was outfitted in combat garb, she noticed, but not the usual X-uniform. The man was sweaty and flushed red from his workout, longish dark hair hanging down in his face. He was mostly covered but still a feast for the eyes, and Ororo couldn't help the small shiver that coursed through her.

She shook her head and said, "I apologize, Scott. I was—"

"It's not a problem, Ororo. I was just telling LeBeau how tired you must've been after last night."

But not tired enough to spending the night snogging Gambit, she thought guilty. Ororo cast a furtive split second glance in Remy's direction and he grinned knowingly, as if picking up on her thoughts. Just a tiny hint of one though. He still looked troubled to her eyes.

"Right. Thank you, Scott. It won't happen again, I assure you. I have no excuse."

"Don't worry about it."

"Are y' rested, chère?" Remy asked pointedly.

"Well enough."

"Good."

Scott looked between the two them. Taking the tension between them as his exit cue, Scott murmured casually: "I'm off for a shower and then a brief chat with the Professor. See you two later."

They listened to the sound of the other man's fading footsteps and the chrome doors closing behind him before chancing a glance at each other.

They stood there silently for several seconds.

Resigned to the fact that the conversation between them would most likely not be the most pleasant, Gambit sighed and rubbed anxiously at his eyes. Ororo noticed the signs of his stress and it gave her the impetus to ask the question that had been on her lips since he'd left her loft last night.

"What was it I did last night that upset you so, Remy? It is obvious to see whatever it was is still bothering you."

"What makes y' t'ink somet'ing botherin' me?" Remy replied easily.

"Are you intent on playing this game, Remy?" she countered shortly. "Mostly, I can read you like an open book. You seem to forget how well I know you. You are deliberately avoiding this issue.

Remy scoffed. "Funny, chère, dat you notice when it's Remy, but not when it's you, huh?"

"What?"

"I mean, y' ignored everyt'ing dat was b'tween us up until de Wolverine left," Gambit couldn't help but sneer. Remy looked at her, shook his head and began walking away. Frustrated, Ororo was right on his heels.

Gambit pushed open the changing room doors, hearing Ororo follow in behind him.

"Remy, I don't understand you."

He peeled off his damp shirt and turned towards Ororo. "What's t' understand, chèrie?"

Ororo stared and gulped. The bare chest in front of her rippled and glistened with sweat, his arms tanned lines of corded muscle. Remy watched her eyes dilate and the way her full mouth seemed to drop open, and he couldn't help the flutter in his stomach. Seeing the look of want on her flawless features. How long had he wanted her to gaze at him that way?

With some amount of difficult, Ororo tore her eyes away from the perfectly chiseled muscles along his stomach, and stared down at the floor.

"We just can't get this right, can we?" she muttered softly.

Panic gripped him minutely. He stepped closer to her. "Wha' d' y' mean, 'Roro?"

"I mean telepathy is not my gift, Remy. I don't know what is going through your mind, or why after our heart-to-heart last night you up and decided to leave, but what I do know is last night, I admitted something to you that I haven't admitted to anyone. Something I've hardly admitted to myself. You asked me in the greenhouse that day if I wanted you; that day in your room you asked me to kiss you – if I felt any love for you whatsoever – and last night I told you. I told you. Is that not what you wanted?"

The vulnerability echoing in her voice pricked Gambit. A feeling of longing and desire overwhelmed him suddenly and he acted on it, seizing Ororo by her waist and pressed his lips against hers. She responded immediately, sinking her fingers into his dampened locks and down the slick slopes of his back and shoulders. She could feel his hand running under her shirt, on her skin, and her eyes fluttered closed involuntarily. Gambit's skin felt feverish. When he pulled back for air, he was breathing heavily, red/black eyes half-lidded and burning. He took a breath then rasped, "O' course dat's wha' I wanted, ma chère. 'S wha' I've always wanted."

He kissed her again.

"And I do, Remy. I do want you." So bad she could cry.

The corner of her lips curled. Ororo pulled him back to her and caught his lips once more. He pried her mouth open further and slid his tongue inside, grunting deep within his throat. She tasted so sweet.

Gambit held her tight as they stumbled forward and hit the changing room wall. He pressed further against her and caught her leg up against him by the knee. He ground his pelvis against her and Ororo lips let go of his to release a throaty moan, feeling the evidence of his arousal and elating in it.

"Feel how much I wan' y', chère?"

"Yes," she gasped, sounding most unlike her usual cool, collected self. He turned and flicked his tongue along the pulse point in her neck, letting a hand trail down between her legs. He could feel the damp heat emanating from her trousers. They'd been friends and partners for so long. Only in Remy's wildest, most erotic dreams did he think he'd ever be touching his Stormy like this—and her touching him.

"Do you feel how much I want you?" Ororo countered. "Want you now . . ." she took his lips, greedily, murmuring against them, "wanted you last night . . ."

It was then she felt his body go rigid against her, and his lips slowly unpeeling from hers. They hovered about a hair's breadth in front of her and she wanted them again desperately.

His tone grew cold. "'But wha' 'bout t'morrow, chère?" he said.

"What?" Ororo frowned.

He pulled away further. "Or how 'bout when de Wolverine's back?" he continued.

His name, spoken aloud while she was pinned against Gambit in the changing room, was like a bucket of cold water.

Wolverine.

And just like that the realization hit her like a bolt of lightning. Her eyes stretched.

"That's what it is, isn't it?" she began slowly. "That is why you—I see now."

Ororo sighed and shoved a hand through her tousled, thick mane. She licked swollen lips and smoothed hands down over her wrinkled clothing. Side-stepping Remy, she sighed again and then turned back to face him.

The tall Cajun stood silent, his chest still heaving and his heart pounding furiously, but nevertheless silent.

"Do you . . . believe me to be a liar, Remy?"

". . . Non."

"Except in this case, right?"

"Non, don' pull dat shit, chèrie!" Gambit hissed.

"Pull what?" Ororo exclaimed. "You think me a liar! All I confessed to you last night – all I've done – was a lie?"

For all of Ororo's bravado inside she was afraid and more than a little ashamed. Logan. What about Logan? It was like he had never even entered her thoughts during all this. In her terror the night before, in her passion . . . What about Logan, indeed?

It was more than apparent the other man had entered Remy's thoughts, which explained his recent attitude and behavior. But regardless, Ororo went on the defense as a means to protect herself from the weight of Remy's question.

"Is that what you believe, Remy?" Ororo went on. "Go on, tell me. You question my sincerity?"

"Non, Remy questions yo' loyalty!" he snapped. "All dis time since I've been back it's like y' been runnin' from how y' feel 'bout me. Y' have a nightmare, it shakes y' up, an' now suddenly y' want me," he drawled thickly.

"I-I do!"

Two steps and he was right in front of her, bearing down on her. The heat of his body, his scent. Eyes locked upon her, Gambit leaned down and intoned solemnly: " When I kiss y' – when I touch y' – who are y' t'inkin' of, ma coeur? Huh? Answer dat. If de Wolverine was here, right now, would y' still be here wit' me, 'Roro?"

Ororo shuddered as his breath brushed her face. Her mouth dropped open and closed again as if she meant to speak, but her throat felt dry and no words would come.

In the loud silence, Gambit could hear his heart break, but inside—that's where he felt it. The pain. But he bore it well, being the man he was. And he refused to let the agony this new knowledge caused to show on his face. He just nodded slowly, scrapped his shirt from off of the floor and said: "I didn' t'ink so."

The door slammed loudly and Ororo was alone, her hand over her mouth, and tears streaming down her face.

Author's Note: Work has been killing me, and all I can do is apologize for the long wait between updates. Thank you greatly for each and every review, comment, fav, and story alert :D

To Be Continued