Chapter Three
1913 Kiev
"Remy!"
"Belle? You're still-"
She silenced me with a firm hug. "I've never been so happy to see you! That poor girl's been in labor all night."
"Lena?"
We were in a small, dark house. All the curtains had been drawn so I couldn't see what time of the day or what season it was. The only light came from a room down the hall.
"The midwife's a monster," Belle said. "I told her not to hurt her, but-"
"She can't hear you."
"Yeah, but I figured out how to possess her."
"Belle!"
"They were gonna cut her open! She would've died!"
My blood ran cold. "She's supposed to die! We're not here to save her! She and the baby both-"
A man emerged from the room carrying a bundle in his arms. Luc's profile drew closer and closer, eclipsed us, and vanished into another room. Lena called out but he pretended not to hear her. Hysterical, she limped after him and pounded on the door.
"He's killing the baby," Belle whispered. Her bright violent eyes seemed small and bright. She glanced at me before running through the door like a hologram.
My body felt like lead, but I forced myself to move.
Luc had set the babe in bed and poured himself a drink. Another man was in the room, too.
Belle and I stood perfectly still in the shadows in case this man was a time traveler like us. My imagination ran wild – was he a demon? Or an angel?
When Luc handed him a drink, we both sighed with relief.
"I know this is extremely upsetting," the man said, "But I've seen it more than you can imagine. She seems beyond reason now, but give it time. The pain she feels tonight will fade and one day, this will all seem like a nightmare. Nothing more."
Luc put his lips to the bottle and guzzled the whole thing. If I hadn't seen him as a boy, I wouldn't recognize him now. He looked more like that ten-year-old than the middle-aged man I'd meet, but I was beginning to see worry lines and the frown that would soon dominate his features.
"Her child, conceived in sin, will be raised in blissful ignorance. The family will raise him from humble beginnings into a strong and righteous man. Forgive me – they prayed for a son. Did the Lord turn in their favor?"
"Yeah. You have it then?" he asked.
The man opened a bag and retrieved a heavy doll. "She's not to see the 'child'. No one is except Father Bosvil. I'll exchange the dressings to confuse-" He flinched away from the baby and gasped.
"What is it?" asked Luc.
The man crossed himself. "His eyes! He is – he is hellspawn!"
"Lower your damn voice!" he hissed.
I suppose I'd known it all along, but I couldn't accept it until this very moment. Why had I come so far for a woman I never knew? Why had I been so fixated on a baby who hardly lived at all? From the moment I'd received the chest, I must've known what I'd find…
Outside the door, Lena had stopped pounding and screaming. Now she'd fallen, sobbing and pleading.
Belle leaned over the baby. "It's too dark. I can't see. He won't open his damn eyes!"
I didn't need to see. I knew it.
That baby was me.
The man had apparently intended to find a new home for him – me – but refused now.
Luc snatched his collar. "We had a deal!"
After a heated, hushed argument, the man agreed to take the baby. He wouldn't farm the child out to a Christian family, though. There was another man in his trade who favored "unique" traits. I was to be given to this man and who knew what he'd do with me.
Shockingly, my father agreed. He just wanted to be rid of me.
Two days later…
"I'm going into town," Luc said, pulling his boots on.
Belle looked at me. "We have to stop him."
"I'll borrow some money from Sascha for the coffin."
Belle said, "You were wrong about the baby. Maybe you're wrong about her, too."
Lena was propped up in bed, gazing blankly at her soft, white hands. Luc laid his calloused hands over hers and said, "I can get you something while I'm there… A sweet. A book. Anything you want, love."
She blinked back tears. "I'd like a grave near a tree if they've got one."
"For the baby?"
"Yes… Yes, for the baby."
As Luc left, Belle decided she'd stay behind with Lena while I followed Jean-Luc. He did exactly what he planned: borrowed money from a friend, paid the church for a plot of land near a tree, and bought some chocolates. All around him were the stirrings of war, but he was oblivious.
I followed him home, too, where Belle stopped me at the door. Luc stepped inside, stopped, and dropped the sweets.
"How'd she do it?" I asked.
"Hanged."
His screams scared off the crows but drew the neighbors. The old ladies were the first on the scene, followed by some rowdy street kids. One of them was sent to find a priest.
"She saw me," Belle said. "At the end. She looked right at me."
2014 New Orleans
Thankfully, the room we next appeared in was dimly lit.
"My room," said Belle. "Why are we here?"
A slightly younger version of myself crept in through her window. He went to her bed, where she was sleeping nude, and knelt beside her.
"This is after you came to the X-Men for help against the Brood," I said. "I thought you were dead…"
It was too much. My emotions were still raw from learning about my parents. Fuck, I had parents. To go from that misery to this point was more than I could bear. For the first time in my whole life, I wanted to quit and go home. I wanted to forget everything I'd seen and go back to who I was before.
"You look like shit," Belle remarked.
I looked at her. "I thought you were dead."
Even now, the emptiness was overwhelming. I didn't take my eyes off her as her father's henchmen felt my fury. Young-me ran off for a cure to save her life while a younger version of Rogue kept Belle company.
"Did she have to come?" asked Belle.
"Rogue was only trying to help."
She laughed bitterly. "I'm not your fresh-faced virgin lover over there. Not that love-sick, jolted woman, either. You used her to keep me from getting too close… And you used me to keep her at arm's length, too! Bet you got that cure by seducing Candra, didn't you?"
"I did what I had to do to save your life!"
"I thought you loved me! I thought we were reconciling and then she starts coming around! And you let me blame her because you wanted a girl in every port."
"Can always count on you to kick a man when he's down."
Young-me mixed the potions to create Belle's antidote. Rogue was bubbling with her newly realized deep feelings for me. Even then, before I realized she'd accidently absorbed Belle, I was cynical of the timing. But just in case I held onto any hope, my ex-wife was there to smash all my dreams.
"She never loved you. That was me talking!"
Time to get off this ride.
2017 Utopia
"Ah don't mean that in a bad way, my love. You were just always there, inside my guard. Under my skin. There's a part of me that's always been joined with you, even when we couldn't touch."
Oh, fuck me. As if living through this once hadn't been bad enough. Now I got to watch Rogue dump me again, ex-wife in tow.
"Enjoy," I said and left her there.
I walked through the now-extinct streets of the former mutant haven. Why had I ever come here? Not traveling through time, I mean why did I ever come to Utopia? For her. Honestly, every stupid decision I ever made was because I was trying to please her. Why did I stay after she kept pushing me away? This segregation and militarization wasn't my dream. None of us signed up for this. Utopia-me couldn't compromise with New Orleans-me; life was always one extreme or the other. I was beginning to hate them both.
"Why are we here?" Belle asked once she'd caught up with me.
"Isn't it obvious? Because the universe loves to torture me."
"You're the one steering-"
"No! I'm not! I don't want to be here. Sure as hell don't want you here! Reliving the worst times of my life with my ex providing commentary. Even I'm not that masochistic. This whole thing is just one shitty memory after another until we die."
2013 New Orleans
"I hear Jean-Luc is coming out of retirement."
"One thing you're always good for, Minister Tome – gossip."
He bristled. "Perhaps you might consider keeping a lower profile."
"Ha! The day I fear a common thief is the day I lose my kingdom."
I looked around the dusty library but didn't see Belle. Had she gone home? Somehow, I doubted it. If history was an indicator, she was off to find a solution now that she knew I didn't have one. This was as good a place as any. Better than most.
If I was right, this was the heart of the Velvet Ministry. Antiquary, a man as old as the name implied, acquired all knowledge at any price. Even children were pawns in his schemes. When my father became Guildmaster, he banished the old man, although why he spared the man's life, I'll never know…
Belle was upstairs doing push-ups.
"Expected to find you curled up with a Barbara Cartland."
She continued unbothered.
"Chere?"
Silence.
Merde, was she of this time? No, she heard me. Anyone who got access to the Velvet Ministry didn't waste time exercising. She was giving me the silent treatment. Merciless Assassin could've ended me. She could've slowly tortured me to death or broken my nose. Believe it or not, I would've preferred any of those things to her indifference. The silence stretched out between us, killing me like a needle under the fingernail. Inside, my soul withered to smoke.
"I'm sorry about… what I said."
Down and up, up and down.
"You're right. We should've talked about Rogue sooner. I had no idea you felt that way. And yes, I still loved you, but that chapter was closed. I never planned to re-open it."
This was killing me. How could I disarm her?
"Don't fall."
She shook, collapsed, and giggled. "Goddamn you, LeBeau."
Sweeter words had never been spoken.
Antiquary clapped his hands and greeted a newcomer. "Damien! Wonderful to finally meet. I trust your journey was comfortable?"
Belle and I leaned over the railing to see a young boy with a bowl haircut and freckles. He wore a black cloak that concealed everything below his neck.
"I'm ready to begin," Damien replied.
"Excellent. This way."
They passed down the hall below. Antiquary walked right by us – like Jacques and Luc and everyone on Utopia – but Damien stopped and glanced up. His eyes roamed over Belle before locking onto my eyes. Then he smiled and moved on.
"Did he see us?" Belle whispered.
"Impossible."
But I didn't know that.
We quickly departed and wandered familiar streets.
This place in time wasn't perfect, but I was sorely tempted to stay. We were happy, Belle and I, and I didn't want that to change.
We walked down to the cemetery to see my brother's grave. (I was right, by the way, Belle had tried to find an answer in the books, but she couldn't turn a page or select a book. Her hands went right through.) After Henri died, Mercy skipped town after Luc snapped and destroyed his things. Since my father was in the habit of ignoring my brother's life, his grave was lonely.
We didn't discuss Henri at all. Since I'd mortally wounded Julien and Julien had killed Henri, it seemed like a slippery slope for us. I didn't want to fight. Instead, I asked about what she did when I ascended to the Enterprise.
"It's somewhere in the Middle Ages," she said. "There's a pool of prayers that come to us-"
"Us? There are others?"
"Yes, the Assassins Guild… You mean, you're all alone?"
"You could've gone anywhere and been anyone, Belle."
"I'm perfectly content being me. Try it sometime. In my world, we answer prayers."
I didn't like the sound of that. "What sort of prayers?"
"To punish rapists, murderers, and tyrants. To avenge wrongdoings. To end suffering…" She fell silent and when I said nothing, she said, "I don't expect you to understand. Escorting someone from this life is a sacred honor."
I wondered if that was the reason for her early arrival at my birth. Who'd been praying for death? Two days later, when my mother died, I wondered who had really killed her. Luc's lies? My supposed death? Her noose? Or had it been because of me? After all, I was proof of her crime. We shared her body for nine months and every day she must've worried whether or not I'd be disfigured, disabled, or otherwise branded by the sin of incest. She must've mourned the loss of the family we could never be: the truth would've put my father in prison. I imagine the fear and guilt and shame grew inside her with me, and once she was free of me, she rushed to commend her sinner's soul to heaven. Or maybe it was simpler. Perhaps Belle had simply held her noose when it might've snapped.
But I didn't have the courage to ask.
"I'm trying to fix this." I said.
"Why're we here, mon cher?"
Her hand was cool as I held it between mine. Belle was the sort of person who showed less emotion than she felt. If she'd used a term of endearment… Why, I must've done something right.
"Lena's parents wanted her buried here. With the family. But Luc said her coffin was empty in Russia. I know it was a hundred-some years ago, but if we're still alive… Why couldn't she be?"
"I saw her die."
"Stranger things have happened."
She opened her mouth to argue and shut it again. I was beginning to wonder if she was giving me another silent treatment when she said: "Why didn't Jean-Luc change your name?"
"Hm?"
"When he adopted you. Could've given you another name. A man like him should be more proficient at lying."
"My mother picked the name."
"How do you know?"
"He told me…"
"And you believe him?" She looked up at the sky and watched as two sparrows chased a hawk. "The baby buyer sold you to the Velvet Ministry."
"Most likely," I agreed.
"But why the seventy-three year gap? If they have the ability to time-travel, wouldn't they go back in time to stop Jean-Luc from banishing Antiquary?"
"I must've done it… Dr. MacTaggert said losing a mother's a traumatic thing. Even for newborns. She was always trying to talk to me about it, rest her nosy soul. Trauma's usually what activates mutant abilities, so I must've propelled myself forward in time."
"As a newborn?"
"Stranger things..."
She bit her lip. "Did you also move yourself to New Orleans?"
It was a fair question, but before I could respond, young-Belle walked to her brother's grave.
"Must be a Sunday," she said.
"You always came on Sundays?"
"Until your obnoxious sister-in-law decided New Orleans was habitable again. Then I started coming on Wednesdays and she did, too. I don't think she came seven days a week, I think she was stalking me."
"Probably wanted to hang out."
"I'm not her friend."
Young-Belle set a paper pin-wheel on Julien's grave. Then she walked to Henri's and set one on his. A lump rose painfully in my throat.
"You came every Sunday…"
"Didn't go out of my way or-"
I grabbed her face and kissed her mouth. Her stern lips melted and her hands pushing against my chest relaxed. Mon Dieu, what was I doing? I slowly pulled away, apology on my lips, when she smiled.
"Should've told you years ago."
"There was lot we should've said," I agreed.
But how could we ever discuss it now? It'd devolve into a he-said/she-said sling fest founded on fused memories and half-forgotten truths. And what good could possibly come of it? It wouldn't heal the pain or loneliness. Ultimately, too much scar tissue surrounded the wounds we'd inflicted to feel any tenderness. Shared defeat was all we had.
…
To Be Continued…
…
Author's Notes: I know a lot of people are going to be unhappy with my choice of Gambit's parents, but I hope you'll stick with the story anyway. We've seen in the past Luc's reluctance to confront Remy's birth family and given his emotional disconnect, I'd have to assume some other reason than sentimentality. Selling babies is historically accurate. Everyone had a finger in the pie – the Catholic Church wanted bastards to be raised in "godly" homes; un-married women wanted to adopt children (which they couldn't legally do in many places); some baby buyers demanded money to raise the child and then killed it for a profit. Others put life insurance on the baby and then killed it to collect. The baby buyers claimed to have the child's interest at heart, but most of them were thieves and murderers who were never punished for their crimes. In most cases, the mother had no say in the fate of her child; and obviously, nearly all of the children lived and died without ever knowing the truth.