The reviews keep on coming! You guys are wonderful! Truly motivating and inspiring! Thank you for your support, suggestions and questions. Today I am sick and because of all your warm feedback and the time and effort you have put into your messages, the only thing I want to do today is write! Keep 'em coming!
So, without further ado, Chapter 9 and the meeting you've all been waiting for between our three loquacious lovelies!
Chapter 9
No sooner than I fall asleep do the Wonder Twins make their entrance. The door slams open, startling me and Wade. I jerk, nearly tip off the tiny bed but am saved by Wade's arms tightening around me in an instinctive reaction to the interruption. Were it up to him, I bet Wade would have me in one arm and his sword in the other. I watch the fingers of his left hand clench and unclench for a moment and am grateful that he doesn't seem to have some kind of reflexive, kill-the-person-next-to-you reaction when disturbed from his sleep. It's seems right to express my gratitude.
"Thanks for not killing me."
It comes out as a whisper but Erik and Mystique both snort at my statement. Wade one-arm hugs me and moves to help me sit up from our awkward position.
"I wouldn't kill you, pocket-rocket. Totally should have gone for the reflexive ass-grab though. Can't believe I missed that opportunity!"
Typical. I am stopped from further snarking by Sanders and the Commandos Four who somehow feel it's appropriate to invade our personal space by surrounding the bed. I wonder if there the same guys as before. Wade's skin is still sleep-warm and I spare a moment to wonder how long we've been out.
"I'm so glad you two have cozied up together. Working relationships and all. However, we are operating on a timeline. Report on your progress."
Sanders is glaring at us. I suppose it would be intimidating if not for the glassy eyes, receding hairline and the small bit of his dinner stuck to his right cheek. I would bet money that everyone knows it's there and none of them are going to tell him. Ha! Serves him right. Report on my progress huh? I'm sure he'd love to know I can hear music…not.
"Okay, report, um…I'm freaking tired. You interrupted my nap; I don't even know how much sleep I got before you came barging in here scaring the crap out of me. You don't even know what could have happened! Wade could have like…broken my face or something without even knowing it and that is soooo not how I want to die. You have food on your face, which is gross, by the way. Janet! Really, you should have told him. Don't even pretend like you didn't know. I know you did because you have that guilty look on your face, like someone who's just been caught and I kinda think it's funny. Do you have a husband or a boyfriend named Brad? Is he a…Major?"
Wade has curled back up on his side, laughing like he's going to wet himself. He's so far gone he's not even making noise anymore, just struggling for air and turning bright red. I wonder if he'll snarf? Janet really does look embarrassed and equally confused by my question. Some people just don't have an appreciation for fine cinema.
But, it's Sanders that takes the cake. As soon as I mentioned it, he started swiping at his face like a deranged kitten, cleaning itself. I'm waiting for him to lick his paws and try again. All the while he's glaring at Janet and it seems like he's so angry at her for not saying something that he's completely forgotten to be angry with me for my petulant monologue.
The Commando's Four have taken a hesitant step back, as if worried about what Wade might do while overcome with laughter. It's not like he's going to explode or something…I think?
"Get the fuck back to work. You've had enough rest."
Now that's just plain unnecessary. I just finished explaining that I haven't gotten enough sleep. Men! They never listen…Sanders turns and makes his way back to the only door in or out of or giant cell block and Janet + 4 quickly follow. I cannot believe that that's all it takes to throw them off-balance.
Janet turns back to me just before the door closes and calls back in the most offended voice she can muster:
"My name is not Janet and my boyfriends name is Daniel."
Oh...my...GAWD!
Who says that!
Due to a combination of exhaustion, anxiety and shock I cannot be held responsible for my actions following Janet's departure. The giggles start first, soft but uncontrollable. Next comes outright laughter, so strong my stomach starts to cramp and my face aches. The blood is rushing to my face and I swear I can feel the vain pulsing in my forehead. And then…it happens. I can't stop it, even if I wanted too. I can barely breathe and the only option other than passing out is to try breathing through my nose…fail!
The snort is epic, not just because of how loud or long it is, but because it happens more than once. I laugh all that much harder and eventually curl up into the fetal position snorting and laughing. I can best describe the noise I make as something similar to a seizing donkey. Humiliating
Eventually I calm myself down and take stock of my remaining audience. Wade has clearly been laughing at me, if the flush of his cheeks and tear tracks down his face are anything to go by. But, it's the look on Mystique's face that I will forever consider my greatest accomplishment. She looks positively undone. Having never bothered to get up from her position on the floor when Sanders & Co. entered, she was in prime position to appreciate my impromptu performance.
She has curled her body into Erik's side, face partially hidden in his shoulder and, I kid you not, she is peaking over his arm, pointing at me and trying desperately to conceal her full bodied gaffes.
"You…you…snarfed!" she announces, before dissolving into giggles.
Mystique said snarf, I think to myself, and I'm off again.
"Ma fée, you should be sleeping, non?"
Excellent timing.
"M'okay," I think, not at all surprised at how difficult it is to focus in this state. "We're just enjoying some stress induced hysteria. How's things on your end?"
"Well enough, ma petit. It has only been two hours since Gambit last spoke ta ma belle."
Though his words are mild, I can hear the concern in his voice and feel it emanating across our strange connection.
"Ya must gather as must rest as ya can, bébé. Dis es not goin'ta be an easy ting. Ya need ta be quick an sharp as ya can."
"We'll do our best to be ready…Um, actually, I have a question?"
"Oui?"
"This is kind of embarrassing, really. I bet you're a total badass, like the king of badasses really. I mean, Erik already said you're the only mutant to escape this place when the project was up and running so I bet you've got a Ph.D in Sexy Ninja Awesome (he starts laughing at me). The thing is, I…um…I'm not much of a…well…let's just say I'm more of a Clydesdale than a Thoroughbred. Not much of a sprinter you see, or a marathon runner. More of a…spectator? What I mean is, well, oh fuck, what I mean is, if the success of this rescue hinges on my ability to run fast or far, I might as well stay behind."
I can tell that my face has turned bright red and I'm, once again, completely mortified at my inability to compel my body to move in ways that seem to come so easily to others, especially other mutants. I take a deep breath, prepared to apologize for being the inconvenience I've always been and perhaps come up with my own exit strategy. After all, it's the Weapon IX program that we need to shut down. I'm just…here…collateral damage…not that import…
"Ma petit! Don be silly, Gambit does not run off, half-cocked to rescue the damsel in distress, only to leave ma beauté behind. Whatever you can do will be enough, oui? Besides, Gambit may not be the King of Badasses, as ya say, but I am the Prince of Thieves. An make no mistake, ma fée, I am coming to steal you, the rest are just lucky to be nearby for the rescue."
Oh man, I think I'm in love.
"You are my hero." I whisper back, mentally gasping in gratitude and relief and some other emotion I can't even begin to describe.
No one has ever made me feel so at peace with my own limitations so quickly. Even at the height of my college athletic career, I was the slowest; always a specialist and never, ever a "true athlete." Toward the end of my career, I'd lost track of how many times I'd come through in the game, only to be slammed for my "lack of conditioning" the next day. No one ever cared about what I could do. They only cared about my sprint time, my max reps and weight...how I looked in my uniform. I'd lost hope that someone would ever see me as useful or effective if I didn't look like a comic book super-babe.
"I certainly hope so, ma cheri. After all, Gambit es only really goin to all dis effort cuz he wants da kiss at de end. He sees in all da fairy tales…"
I can practically hear the smirk in his voice and get the sense that he is quite satisfied with his little game. Still floating in the pleasure of his openly complimentary and flirtatious style, I up the ante.
"My darling, sexy, spicy Cajun. Get us out of here and you can name my first-born!"
His laugher tickles my senses and I curl my body into the feeling, even though it's all in my head. I imagine I look like a cat, arching up into a petting hand.
"Ma petit. Gambit will hold ya to dat. Now, ta bed wit ya and know dat your Prince es on his way."
With that, I turn my attention back to Wade and update my three unlikely companions on the plans for our rescue. Erik and Mystique seem pleased with the turn of events while Wade looks more contemplative. I remember his semi-feigned jealously and wonder how he would handle knowing the pleasantly flirtatious nature of my conversations with Gambit. Guilt creeps up on me for a moment before I shove it down.
Both of them are naturally outrageous flirts. That much is obvious. I'm sure neither of them means anything by it. Wade is just playing at jealously for the entertainment of it and Gambit is playing the role he's found himself in. The only way this could go badly is if I make something out of nothing. My mental pep talk has left me oddly depressed and, as I turn back to Wade, who's waiting patiently for me to lie back down, I find myself suddenly shy.
I lay down on my side, tucked into his firm torso. Where is this boy's shirt?! All the comforting and affectionate gestures that have come so easily to me have suddenly become weighted with doubt. I curl up, trying my best not to touch him but my efforts are for not.
As soon as my body hits the mattress, Wade reaches over and half lifts, half drags me over until I am practically lying on top of him. With one arm under my head and the other holding me to him by my waist, Wade completes his adjustments with a final little shimmy and promptly falls back to sleep.
Freaking adorable
Finally, I surrender myself to Wade's will and the exhaustion that suddenly hits me like a Mack Truck. My last thought before sleep claims me is something like this…
I hope Sanders doesn't lay an egg tomorrow over our lack of 'progress'…haha, get it…lay an egg…Damn it Janet, I am one funny bunny.
The first thing I notice is an incredibly loud siren. It's really quite horrible and I am suddenly filled with the undeniable urge to kill whoever made that device with that particular frequency.
All at once, the siren stops and I blink. Did I do that?
Wade is up and off the bed faster than a jack rabbit and I would take it personally if it weren't for the obviously hostile situation about to erupt.
"Gambit?" I call out in my mind. "Is this you?"
Silence
What the fuck? What is this?
The four of us gather in the corner nearest the door and to the blind side, waiting for the commando's to rush in and "subdue" us. However, after some waiting and no further sign of disruption, it becomes clear that, whatever is going on, we are not of primary concern.
Excellent
That means I'm less likely to get shot or tased in the near future. Still, this wasn't part of the plan. There's no way Sander's would have let us sleep through the night and into Friday afternoon and Gambit would have warned me if he were going to show up early. This doesn't bode well for our getaway plans.
"Gambit!" I try again and this time with a little more force.
I immediately regret it as I feel his pain echoing across our connection. Fuck. The last think I wanted to do was hurt him.
"Ma fee, what is wrong? Are you well?"
I can feel his grogginess through the connection. I must have woken him up, which means it's the middle of the night and whatever is going on, it's not part of Gambit's escape script.
"There are sirens going off here. I thought it might be you before I realized how early it is. I don't know what's going on but something feels…not good."
"Sit tight ma petit. Gambit will call de others. We are on de way. Some will just have ta meet us der."
I push my understanding through the link, too afraid to make much noise. How long will we have to wait? Looks like we're going to have to stall…but for how long? We still don't know what the hell is going on. I recall the siren and my wonder of whether I was the one to silence it.
It's worth investigating, I think to myself and reach out my sense to find the source of that retched sound. It doesn't take me long to locate the source. The speaker is dormant for now and there's nothing about it that suggests to me that I was the one to shut down the sound.
Okay, then why did it stop?
Reaching out further, I listen for sounds beyond the concrete walls. At first it's all a jumble. Footfalls, guns cocking, someone shouting orders; all the sounds are mixed together, no single source is discernible from another. I need a focal point, I realize. I need to search for a specific voice…Sanders!
Reaching out again, I search the compound for Sanders' voice, moving from source to source, room to room until I hear the familiar tones. He's clearly upset about something but his one-sided shouted orders are giving me little to work with in the way of reconnaissance. Just as I begin the tedious work of picking out the other voices in the room, a loud explosion rocks the compound.
With all my senses extended in the direction of what must be the control room, the explosion hits me as if I were standing right next to it. The force throws me across the room and I land with a sick thud on the unforgiving floor. My ears are ringing and blackness tugs at my mind. The pain is beyond comprehension, so intense that I barely feel anything at all.
Wade's face fills my vision and, though I can see him talking to me, I hear nothing. Had this never happened before, I would be certain I'm deaf. Sensory overload, and nothing to be done for it but wait it out. For now my mutation is FUBAR and all I can do is lay on my back, staring at Wade, waiting until I can refocus on the sounds in the room with me.
After a spell, my hearing returns like the volume on a stereo being turned up, notch by notch.
"I'm okay, I'm okay" I whisper, careful not to overload my recovering hearing.
Wade looks terrified.
"What the fuck was that? One second you're next to me and the next you go flying across the room like fucking ghost busters. What the fuck!"
I reach out to touch his face in an attempt to sooth his worry, only to notice that my hands are shaking, badly. Side effects of sensory overload: adrenaline surplus, temporary loss of hearing, disorientation, confusion, and…backlash.
Oh shit.
"Wade, hit the deck."
"What?"
I grab Wade and pull him to the floor, hoping that Erik and Mystique follow our example. I can feel the pulse building in the center of my chest. I sit up, wishing I could brace my hands on the floor but settle for sitting up on my knees, instead.
"Cayden…what's going…"
Wade never gets to finish his sentence. The pulse has grown beyond my capacity to contain it. The unstoppable sound of my racing heart beat. The first sound of life; the first sound I ever made. The beat fills the room, a sickening parody of Poe's, The Raven. Faster and faster it goes until the sound has blended together into one, intense hum of power. And then, like a snapped rubber band, the sound rushes out from my chest, 360 degrees in a flat slice across the room. As the sound pushes against the air, the wave front expands until the sonic boom slams violently into the four walls surrounding us. Had it a shape, it would look like the bottom of a mushroom cloud rushing out to devour everything in its path.
The walls crack with the impact, the door flies off its hinges and into the hallway, bent in half and utterly irreparable. Holy shit! It's never been that bad. I turn to Wade, hoping to offer some kind of explanation when I hear that familiar Cajun cadence.
"Ma fée, ma fée? Are you alright?"
It takes me a moment to understand that the sweet voice is no longer just in my head. How did he get here so fast? I wonder how long I was down after the explosion…and how long I had been searching the compound for sounds? It's one of the weaknesses of my mutation that diving into it causes me to lose time. I can never tell how long I've been "in it" unless I set an alarm or put out a stop watch.
"I'm okay." I whisper back. "Let's just get the hell out of here."
No one seems willing to argue with me and prepare to head toward the now door-less entryway. A gorgeous man with shoulder-length chestnut hair and glowing red eyes is standing above me, just to the right of Wade. The concern on his face is comforting and I blurt out the first thing that comes to my mind.
"Fuck, you are hot. I knew it!"
His concern quickly turns to a rakish grin and Wade jumps up to face the newcomer.
"You!" He yells, voice filled with shock and not a little bit of hostility. "You…you're…HIM!"
Gambit is clearly not impressed.
"Ya must be de defective mutant des fools brought ma petit here ta heal."
The two of them immediately begin to posture and I am reminded of peacocks, spreading their tail feathers and squawking at one another.
"Defective? Defective!" Wade growls. It sounds way sexier coming from him than it did from Sanders….Sanders!
"Uh, guys...can we go now. Escape now, chat later? Yeah?"
The two quickly refocus and both offer me a hand. I'm grateful that I have two hands to offer back and allow them both to lift me off the cold floor. As soon as I'm upright, a wave of dizziness washes over me and I sag, heading back to the floor at an alarming catches me and I grip a powerful shoulder for support. The bare skin lets me know that Wade got to me first. Eager to avoid another cock-fight, I intervene.
"Wade, can you use any of your added abilities?'
"No," he replies with a regretful tone. "I have a bunch of new abilities but if I use any of them the cancer starts to metastasize at an accelerated rate. That includes rapid healing so I'd really prefer not to take a hit."
He looks embarrassed to admit this and Gambit glares at him, clearly annoyed and Wade's seeming "uselessness."
"Okay, you help me out, Gambit, please lead the way. Erik? You and Mystique ready to go?"
Two murmured accents and we are moving toward the door. Gambit takes point, pulling out what appears to be a deck of playing cards. I also notice a staff strapped to his back and have to wonder, what can this guy do?
I can hear a firefight off in the distance…more like one group is firing and the other is…ass-kicking? I hear what sounds like swords or knives, crackling that reminds me of ice forming, and other sounds that escape my comprehension.
"Who all did you bring on this merry adventure?"
Gambit turns back and smiles.
"Just a few friends, ma fée. You'll meet them later. We have one exit strategy and they have another."
I wonder what he means by that and I can't help but peek back down the corridor where I assume the fight is taking place. I can see nothing but blue smoke and wonder what kind of grenade that is. The four of us follow Gambit out of the compound and onto a decrepit looking helipad. A sleek black jet sits there, waiting for us to enter and I can't help but appreciate our stylish exit.
"Are you sure they're going to be okay?"
"Oui, ma petit. By da time we got here, someone else had already done quite a bit o damage to da facility an its security. Whoever triggered da initial alarm dat ya told Gambit about was long gone by da time we got here. It was relatively easy ta get in. Finding you was da difficult part until Gambit hears dat explosion. Ya must tell Gambit what dat was, ma beauté. It came from you, non? And, Gambit es eager ta take ya up on me prize so he must know all he can about what you can do…"
His grin is sharp and I realize that he's taken the opportunity to goad Wade once more.
"Gambit blah, blah blah, Gambit. Who talks about themselves in the third person." Wade is grumbling to himself while Gambit recounts his the tale of his arrival.
Is this Gambit's retaliation for not being the one to help me out? What's this about? Are they really both going to continue with this game? Whatever, I don't have the energy to deal with this.
"What? What prize? He gets a prize? I want a prize! Come on, that's not fair. I've been really good, haven't I? I've been funny and nice and sexy and a pillow and…"
"A pillow!"
Wade grins at Gambit's obvious distaste. Guh, whatever.
"Who's going to fly this thing?" I grump.
"We will." That's Mystique. "You handle Romeo and Juliet. Erik and I will get us of this ghastly island."
I roll my eyes and make my way to the back of the jet where the rear door hangs open. We file in quickly and I settle into one of the chairs, quickly fastening my own seatbelt before the two boys can fight over the "honor." Wade takes his seat, appearing to be somewhat put out by my frosty behavior. I immediately feel guilty.
It's not his fault he can't fight. I can only imagine how frustrating it would be for him to be so capable and skilled and be able to use none of it because someone fucked with his genetics. I turn to Gambit, wanting to see him to his seat when gunfire breaks out behind us.
Shit!
I reach down to unbuckle my belt and try my hand at defense when I see something begin to glow out of the corner of my eye. I turn my head and see Gambit, holding one of his playing cards which now glows a beautiful, vibrant red to match his eyes. He turns to me and winks, red lightning crackling across the enchanting orbs before flinging the card out the back of the jet, toward the compound. The card impacts the concrete wall and explodes as if it were a missile.
"That is fucking cool." I breathe.
Gambit chuckles and takes his seat. Mystique works the controls to close the door and the jet's engines roar to life.
"Where to?" Mystique asks.
"You know where, mademoiselle. Now, ma cheri, tell Gambit about des gifts so he may name you appropriately."
I can't help but smile at his childlike delight.
"Douche bag."
Oh Wade…
New French Translations:
belle = beautiful
bébé = baby
beauté = beauty
Author's note: Who do you want to be part of the rescue party? I know I've placed some hints and I can add some more upon request!