Thank you all so much for reading and for you patience. My sincere apologies for taking so long to update, and for not responding to you individually. That practice will resume next chapter, but I was desperate to finish and publish this before the New Year. Enjoy!

Part 31: Home Sort-of Home

You'll have to fo'give me if my words are disjointed. S' hard to remember everything in chronological order and extreme detail from dis period. Every'ting hurt, and not'ing interested me.

Long road trips give a person lots o' time to t'ink. Time was exactly what I needed right now. De heartbreak was enough o' a monster to grapple wit', but it wasn' de only ball I was juggling. After I had time to calm down and start planning, I was sort o' grateful fo' dat. S' much easier to bury yo' emotional baggage if you've got distractions.

Logan was here, and until I came up wit' some stroke o' genius was gon' stay. If dat was true, I needed to learn how to manipulate him. He wouldn' like it, and it would take a huge effort on my part, but he was de one bein' stubborn. Leave a loose cannon unsupervised and s' bound to make a mess.

Once again, like a loser I was crawlin' back to my family home. Dis meant grapplin' wit' Assassins, which was bound to be mo' fun dan usual since Belle was gone. It also meant dodging Jean-Luc and de oath dat would finally seal my future. Since I kept ending up here anyway it was starting to seem like a less important point, but s' never a good idea to make a life path decision in de midst o' emotional strife. I had no idea how my family was gon' react to my ill-tempered excess baggage, but I would have to roll wit' de punches and try to keep ahead o' de situation.

Dis was a situation dat needed Gambit at his best, but unfortunately I was gon' have to manage it on minimal power. Still, in dis dere was an additional weapon. To Logan, and I knew to my family, it would be obvious dat I was not myself. Since I was almos' never emotionally honest, and even when I was it was never de whole story: no one could predict jus' how far gone I might be. I could use dat. My emotional outbursts would henceforth be timed, well-planned, and to my benefit.

O' course dat meant no candid outbursts. Dere's always a catch. So what's de official response to de heartbreak? Simple. Get over it. If only it was as simple to do as to say. Dere was no real point in boohooing. Rogue was gone, I was not an X-man: dese t'ings were now facts and no amount o' sulking would change anyt'ing. No one can choose how to feel, but I could still choose how to act about it. It was a clean break, and even if it seemed impossible now, dere would come a time when I wouldn' t'ink about it anymore. New York would be one o' dose lost chapters left to collect dust somewhere in the back o' my consciousness. Logan would eventually leave whether I got rid o' him or not, someday I would feel normal again.

But normal was as good as I could promise myself, and dere was the one horribly paralyzing catch: hope. De decision would come jus' any time, and I knew what de decision would be. Still, until it came dere was dat one in a million die cast dat she would choose me. I had to kill dat possibility. I had to take dat choice away from her and make it my own. It was de only way to survive, but I wasn' ready to do it.

So I would give myself a little breathing room to get de last o' de New York air out o' my lungs, the last o' her scent from my clothes, and let the memories yellow at de edges until I had enough distance to do what had to be done. Til den, I would jus' have to get ahold o' myself and play the game in front o' me. I would let Logan get comfortable wit' his winning hand, let him t'ink he had de win wrapped up nice and tight. I would let my family pity me and go easy. I would reclaim my bravado, come out on top, and go on wit' my life. I repeated dis plan like a mantra in my head so I wouldn' have room to let all de doubts crowd in. If I couldn' convince me, who could I convince?

I wished all de wild cards were out o' de deck.

Dere we were, driving along in a comfortable silence, when suddenly a computerized melody exploded from de passenger seat so unexpectedly it made me jump.

Logan grunted and reached into his inside pocket, pulling de phone out and flipping it open in one motion. He glanced as briefly as possible at de screen before snapping it shut and tucking it back in his jacket.

His face betrayed not'ing, but fo' some reason de exchange was jarring to me. S' like hearing dat noise outside when yo' home alone at night. You can' t'ink o' a reason fo' it, but yo' hair stands on end.

Den agin, I was a little edgy. De quiet road made me introspective: jus' de t'ing I didn' wan' to be. I was jumping at shadows, my mind trying to scare me onto annudah track. I settled back into my seat, coaxing my mind to abandon s' state o' alarm.

Not two minutes later, de melody rang out a second time. Again, I jumped. Logan's eyes tightened fo' a split second, but he didn' reach fo' it dis time. He stared straight ahead and ignored it.

I tightened my hands on de steering wheel. "T'ought you liked to live off de grid."

"You ain't the only one with separate lives."

"Not quite as separate as I'd like."

He ignored de barb. It was only half hearted at dis point anyway.

"So who are you avoiding?"

"Mind yer business."

"Pardonnez-moi, my ill-shaven comrade, but considering yo' latest display I figure all privacy claims are off."

Logan stretched his legs out in front of him, unconcerned. "I got leverage, bub, and fer once, you got jack."

"I never took you fo' de 'kick-a-man-when-he's-down' type." I tried to keep de tone flippant, but dere was still a faint edge o' spite.

He shrugged. I t'ink he shrugs too much. "I'm not usually. This is a special case. I always figured I could take you in an all out brawl, but outwitting you is a far better brag."

"Was dat a compliment wedged right in de middle o' yo' gloating?"

"Too early to tell. I'm waiting to see yer next move."

I stared back out at de road an' muttered undah my breath, "You an' me bot'."

We dropped de conversation, but it stuck in de back corner o' my mind, a puzzle missing a piece.

My fam'ly was less help dan I hoped, save one. Dey were predictable wit' regard to me; same pleasantly surprised, if somewhat smug expressions dat quickly faded into hard stares when dey sensed somet'ing not quite right. I tried not to notice how deir eyes darted ever so quickly over my shoulder, looking fo' somet'ing dat wasn' dere. Maybe it was jus' my imagination.

Unfortunately dey took to Logan immediately. When I first met Logan, it was on his turf. He knew I was trouble, and I knew he knew. We got started all wrong. But undah different circumstances, maybe I would have seen him differently. He was exactly the kind o' low key, rough-an-gruff, misguided sense of honor type dat ran in de t'ieves guild. He struck an accord almos' befo' he got out o' de car. Damn him.

Sebastian, on de uddah hand, was on my side. He was toddling now, talking a little too, but in his own personal language dat took some time to undahstand even if you spoke Cajun. As he grew mo' mobile, he also grew to be mo' trouble. He wanted to be everywhere, touch everyt'ing, stick everyt'ing in his mouth. He also t'ought dat de word "no" had de same meaning as "fun". If you tol' him not to, it jus' made him mo' determined. While exhausting, dis little development in personality had Logan on edge when Sebastian so much as came wit'in 10 yards. Logan's not much fo' lil ones to begin wit'. Sebastian, sensing Logan's discomfort, was determined to attach himself. Fantastic.

I hadn' even unpacked my bags befo' I put myself back on active duty. De ol' routines kept my mind busy and gave me a pleasant alternate reality: dat I had never left, dat de whole mess wit' Belle, de Morlocks, de X-men was jus' a bizarre dream.

Jean-Luc was not so much surprised as confused. He kept his t'oughts closely guarded, but offered, "I might not have made dis very clear, but you can come home jus' to visit. Stay as long as you wan', no t'ieving required."

"And do what, help Mattie in de kitchen?"

He smirked. "If it suits you."

"I'll take de streets, t'ank you."

"What you wan' me to do wit' yo' friend?"

"Put him in his crate til I get back. Don' bother feeding him."

His smile spread a little wider, but den faded. "You know, we haven' had to work quite so much lately."

"Non?"

"Haven' heard from de new account since Belle." He tried to lightly drop de name, but wit' such a story behind it dere was no way.

I tucked my hair behind my ear and looked at de floor. "Anybody heard from her?"

He shook his head silently. We stood fo' a moment as he considered what direction de conversation ought to take. In de end, he decided to be merciful, breaking back into a casual smile. "Yo' sister is back on duty, you know."

I groaned. Merci was as good a t'ief as any, but she was far too serious. She had no patience fo' brazen antics or any uddah form o' fun. Fun was somet'ing you had once you had yo' target in hand. We'd never had a fight dat wasn' on a job.

"Can' we jus' split de city right down de middle? She gets one half, I get de uddah?"

"Depends. Can you stay on yo' half?"

I did a quick inventory o' my favorite spots. "Prolly not."

He laughed, "Welcome home, Remy."

I knew dere was bound to be a confrontation I didn' wan' to have, it was jus' a matter o' time. Sebastian had made himself doubly useful now dat he repeated whatever he heard, making phrases o' interest into little songs.

One day he skipped past me singing, "Pauv-re Re-my, pauv-re Re-my! Dormez-vous? Dormez vous?" (poor Remy, are you sleeping to the tune of "Frere Jacques".)

I scooped him up, but he wasn' as cuddly as he used to be. He wiggled and wormed and made a great game out o' escaping adults who were naïve enough to try to pick him up.

"Whoa dere! Oncle Remy wants to know where you heard dat song."

He rolled his eyes at me. "Teeeeeeeee Veeeeeeee!"

"You changed de words, petit-homme." He grinned and nodded. "So why poor Remy hahn?"

He answered wit' a new composition, rocking back an fort' in time to de tune in his head. "Nobody knows, nobody knows, nobody knows. Find out, find out!"

I sighed, "You let me know what else you hear, mon ami."

He was abruptly done wit' de conversation and started kicking his legs, swinging his arms and chanting "Down, down!" I complied wit' his request to avoid bodily harm, and on de way down he reached his lil' monkey hands into my pocket and grabbed my zippo lightening fast. His skills were rudimentary at best: de giggle gave him away.

"Give dat back you lil t'ief!" I snatched it back out o' his pudgy clutches and he ran away with a shriek o' baby laughter.

Hopefully dere would be enough time fo' me to script it out in my head, to make what had to be said a t'oughtless string o' words, each chosen carefully to have a desired effect wit'out touching de wound. Self-control was essential.

It was not a strong start.

Once Logan got a clear idea dat I was planning to stay put fo' a while, he let my leash out a little. He kept a low profile, enjoying de night life in de city, playin' poker wit' de uddah t'ieves, dat kind o' t'ing. I took advantage o' what space he was willing to give me, but if he t'ought it was gonna get him any brownie points he was sorely mistaken.

It was almos' late enough to be early when I got in after an unproductive night. De weather had complicated t'ings. Jus' as my target was nearing s' destination, de car transporting it hydroplaned into a fender bender: cops descended and de opportunity was lost. Couldn' even trust my luck lately.

I took off my soggy coat and boots, leaving dem by de front door so Mattie wouldn' squawk about de muddy tracks. Den, I headed as quietly as I possibly could up de stairs so Merci wouldn' squawk about me waking de bebe. My ability to charm de ladies o' de house was also on de fritz.

I had jus' skipped de squeaky stair when I heard a low, muffled voice. It wasn' unusual fo' t'ieves to be keepin' late hours, but out o' habit probably left from childhood I stopped to see if I could make out who was talking, and what about.

"Bout the same as last time…..it's hard to say."

Logan was talking to somebody, but I couldn' make out de uddah end o' de conversation.

"Look I'm keeping him out of trouble, I'm not the heart-to-heart type…I don't know if you wanna hear that, kid."

My breath caught and my ears were on fire.

"Well to be honest he's pretty rugged…What do you mean how do I know?..." he sighed heavily, "How do I get myself roped into this bull?"

Call me self-centered, but somehow I got de impression dat dis conversation was about me. I also had a fairly good guess whose honeyed voice was on de uddah end o' de line. Perhaps in annudah life dis would have been flattering, but fo' de first time in weeks I felt somet'ing uddah dan empty: de heat rose to my collar and de anger roiled up so strong it nearly gave me tremors.

What was I? Some kind o' experiment? A fish in a bowl? She pushed and pushed to know my secrets, den left me fo' dem, as I tol' her she would. Den she sends a babysitter? She could call me, and ask me how I am, but she might get mo' of an answer den she bargained fo'.

All dis time everybody been so worried about what a man like me might do to her. Didn't anybody see what she had done to me? Even now, I couldn' blame her fo' her decision, as I said befo': I'd made de same one years ago. But keeping me on de knife's edge, checking on me clandestinely, dis was a half measure and a game I wouldn' have expected her to play. I couldn' have her, but I couldn' be free o' her either, her or her goon.

Dis was torture to a man already beaten, already bruised, already broken. How was I? I was in love wit' a girl who I could never touch, not because o' some mutation, but because I was too stained, too filthy, and she was clean. She extended her heart to me like an angel extends mercy, and den snatched it back wit' a snarl.

As fo' my heart, what could it be if not shattered? But fo' de meddling o' fate, she would be mine now. It had been so close, and even wit' de limitations, de fights, de danger, it would have been enough fo' me. Mo' dan I dared hope fo'. Jus' to belong. Jus' to be hers.

"Take my word for it, will ya? He's not happy…Not to me, don't know if he's talked to his family about it but I get the idea that he hasn't…No, I don't have a real clear read, on him or you really…I know, you don't have to go into it…"

My blood simmered, boiled, and den felt like it was open flames. My grip on de reins felt faulty, but I wanted to hear every word.

"Any chance they might move the date out?...Dammit. I really don't like sitting this one out. I wish either Scott or you would come to your damn senses already…You there?...Sorry, you know missing a good fight makes me grumpy. It's not yer fault. As if what you found out wasn't bad enough, you had to find it out that way…Take all the time you need. Just keep an eye on the pipsqueak for me, and keep me posted. You know if you need me I'll be there…you too, kid, you too."

I heard a faint click dat I assumed was de phone snapping shut, and den he groaned heavily. A moment later, de springs as he flopped down on de bed.

De very back o' my mind knew dat what I was feeling was far too violent and reactive to be fair. I didn' necessarily know fo' sure who it was he was talking to, or what about, even though I would've bet my life and been right. I also had no proof to assume de intentions behind de conversation. De words I put on de uddah end o' de line were entirely invention, down to tone and expression.

But t'ieves aren' known fo' playing fair. Well-founded or not I let de fury swallow me whole. If I'd been able to t'ink far enough, I might have laughed at de irony: dis was a Rogue tactic.

I stormed down de hall like a harbringer o' doom an' kicked de door in.

"Who de hell do you 'tink you are?" I grabbed somet'ing off de dresser, charged it an' threw it at him wit'out looking to see what it was.

He dodged and leapt to his feet in one motion. "What the hell, Cajun?"

"I never did any'ting to you!" I charged somet'ing else and threw it.

He batted it away and it exploded against de wall, blowin' chunks o' plaster an' dust all over de room.

"Bub, you better simmer down and stop trying to blow me up before I get pissed off."

"I have done every'ting dat was asked o' me, I tried everyt'ing I knew! What mo' does she wan'? When will it be enough? How much pain do I have to be in?"

I kicked somet'ing crumpled on de floor, charging it wit' my bare feet. It was a white tee shirt, and fin'ly it connected, sending white hot embers all over him.

He roared as he furiously brushed the burning shreds away. He lunged at me and I met him halfway, throwing my shoulder full force into his chest. It knocked de wind out o' him, but he got a fistful o' my shirt and we toppled togeddah. A hail o' blows landed on de back o' my head hard enough to make me see stars, but de pain only increased my rage.

So he t'ought he could take me? Time to find out. No punches pulled, I was gonna keep swinging til one o' us went down fo' de count.

I slipped an arm out o' my shirt and his hold was strong enough dat it ripped nearly in half. I pulled free an' rolled to my feet: he did de same, and dove fo' me again, landing a blow across my jaw. I rolled wit' de momentum and let loose a roundhouse dat connected wit' his ear.

Spinning to face him again, I reared a fist back, taking aim fo' his nose.

"Remy LeBeau you STOP dis RIGHT NOW!"

It was enough o' a distraction to avert my gaze fo' a split second. Jus' enough time fo' Logan to tackle me to de ground, driving his knee sharply into my stomach. I grabbed de lamp off de nightstand on de way down, an' while I still gasped fo' air broke it against his head, sending him rolling across de floor. I sprung to my feet, de disruption completely forgotten, my eyes fixed on Logan.

Befo' either of us could launch annudah assault, our line o' site was cut off by Jean-Luc an' Henri.

"MOVE!" we roared in unison.

"Take a walk, Remy," Henri said coolly, though his eyes betrayed some o' his alarm.

"Dis is none o' yo' business, Henri. Get OUT of my WAY!"

"My wife an' baby are trying to sleep, you are destroying de house, and yo' face is bleeding. Now calm down and come take a walk."

"Not a chance!"

"You got to fight me befo' you can get back to him. So either take a swing or TAKE A WALK!"

I glared at him ominously, seriously considering de option. He clenched his fists at his sides and raised his eyebrows, waiting to see what I'd do. De adrenaline an' anger stung in my veins, making me crazy. I jus' wanted to hit and hit and hit until dere was not'ing left o' me. But o' course, Henri was my bruddah who had done not'ing wrong. I couldn' bring myself to hit him. I settled fo' shoving him out o' de way as I headed to de door.

Logan snarled at me on de way out from where Jean-Luc had him cornered, trying to calm him. I snarled back, my body half turning, but Henri shoved me through de door and slammed it behind us.

Henri followed me down de stairs and out de front door. I didn' bother grabbing my coat or shoes, though de rain still pelted down, oblivious to our little drama.

To my extreme dismay, de cold water started cooling my anger almos' instantly. My skin was so hot it steamed as de cold drops hit one by one, icy touches gently soothing my temper. I knew it was ridiculous to be having a fist fight like a wayward teenager in my fam'ly's home. I jus' didn' wan' to know right now.

De rain might cool my temper, but it had no effect on my drive. I walked briskly, letting my legs try to burn de excess energy my fists held onto. When dat didn' help, I marched, den jogged, den ran outright.

De wind and water drove behind me, my bare footsteps splashing through de swamp. My hair, skin, and what was left o' my clothes eventually got soaked. Pieces o' bracken, dirt and leaves stuck to me, and branches whipped at my bare arms and face. I paid dem no mind, jus' ran and ran and ran til my pulse thundered in my ears and my lungs felt like dey would burst.

Logan's swipes started taking deir toll. My ribs complained as dey expanded, my face stung, my neck was stiff and my head throbbed from de trauma and de high. I drove myself harder. I liked dis pain. Dis pain was somet'ing I could touch and see, somet'ing familiar dat I could manage. My steps drummed a faster an' faster beat, de stinging rain hitting harder and blurring my vision.

Finally, gasping fo' breath I slowed, pacing back an' forth, unable to run further but still not spent. A branch caught my cheek, and I swung back at it. My legs exhausted, I put de energy back into my hands, swinging at de tree trunks, de bark scraping my knuckles.

Hands shaking, de cold fin'ly registered in my system and set me shivering out de last bit o' exertion. I dropped into de bed and leaned against my former foe, looking up and letting the cold water hit my face as I sought to caught my breath. I closed my eyes and focused on every discomfort; de raw feeling o' de wet fabric, each pang, every cold sensation, every complaint.

And when fin'ly dey ceased to distract, I let her face crash into my mind. Her voice had been so close, and she hadn' asked fo' me. Dat's what made me so mad. I was so desperate to see her, feel her, hear her, and she had resisted me so easily, and how often? She'd asked about me, but she hadn' asked fo' me. She danced around de peripheral, out o' my reach and out o' my sight, haunting me. Strangely it made me feel mo' alone dan if she vanished completely.

I mus' have been pitiful when Henri caught up to me, drenched, wounded, shivering in de dark. Poetic from de outside perhaps, but not a strong showing on de carefully-controlled-meltdown front. By now I was feeling embarrassed an' guilty, and so didn' look at him as he approached.

"You done yet?"

De night was already a waste, might as well be honest. "No."

"Would it be possible to relocate to someplace dry?"

"Yes."

"Is it safe to put you back in de house or are you gon' keep tearing t'ings up?"

I sighed. "Might as well." I stood, crossing my arms over my chest in a useless attempt to keep warm.

Henri tossed me his coat. "You don' look so good, Remy."

"Imagine dat."

"I don' mean de busted face. What happened to you? What's wrong?"

I met his gaze, wit' what expression I don' know. "Me. S' de usual story, Henri. I jus' don' fit."

"Don' fit where?"

"S' not important. Let's jus' go back to de house. S' getting late, Merci will be worried you."

He didn' know how to deal wit' me in dis mood, so he jus' complied. I didn' realize how far I ran: light had jus' barely broken befo' we got back. By de time we made it to de front door, every inch o' me was sore an' de novelty had worn off. My face was swollen, my feet cut an bruised from my little escapade, and a bruise was jus' starting to blossom across my stomach. My head pounded, my temples throbbed, I was freezing an' well beyond exhausted. If I had to face Logan again it wouldn' be much of a show.

Again, lady luck eluded me. Logan was sitting on de front porch, a cigar in one hand and a forty in de uddah. Worse still, he was freshly showered, unblemished, alert: a regular dapper dan.

Henri eyed him warily, but I knew dat de danger had passed. Logan doesn' have much of a poker face.

"Pull up a chair, tiger."

"Maybe you should bot' get some rest first, hahn?"

"S'alright Henri. Go on in."

He shot me a heavy warning glance. "Won' be any trouble. Scout's honor." Logan raised two fingers to corroborate.

Still wary, but too tired to pursue it further, Henri headed inside. I plopped down in de chair beside Logan. He tossed me a pack o' my cigarettes an' a lighter.

I took one out gratefully an' brought it to my lips. "I gotta warn you, I don' know how much longer I'll be coherent."

"Yeah you look it." I rolled my eyes at him. "Feel any better?"

"Don' know. Too tired to feel much. You?"

"I'm right as rain, thanks fer askin." He set his beer down between us.

"So what kinda vengeance should I brace fo'?"

"Nah. I've been expecting something like this fer awhile. You needed to blow off some steam. I just underestimated yer flare fer the dramatic. Kinda hard to keep cool when someone opens the show by throwin' bombs at me."

"Sorry. I guess dat was a little harsher dan necessary fo' de offense."

"Yeah well, I busted you up a little rougher than I really had to."

"No kidding."

He grinned. "Glad we're past that."

I picked up de forty and took a swig. "You gon' keep spying on me?"

"Yep. Though blowing up my phone is gonna make it trickier."

"Why? What could possibly be in dis whole t'ing fo' you?"

He took a drag off his cigar. "A couple of things really. First, what I said back at the mansion about you getting the boot is true. The X-men can't start holding prior offenses against team members without being entirely hypocritical. Yer not the only criminal trying to sleep under that roof. Not the only killer either." He gave me a meaningful look.

"Dat explains why you left, it doesn' explain what yo' doing here."

"In addition to making my political statement, I'm also giving Rogue some peace of mind."

"I t'ought I did dat by leaving."

"Did it ever occur to you that we might have more to talk about than just you? Like the fact that she's hunting down those machines that abducted 400 mutants and took them to Antarctica?"

My pulse picked up a step. I hadn' forgotten, I jus' tried not to t'ink about it too much. I didn' answer.

He snorted. "As long as she knows I'm here, lookin' out fer ya, keeping you out of trouble, and most importantly keeping track of your slippery Cajun hide, she can focus on what she's doing and keep herself alive. She knows I'm doing her a favor, but she doesn't really grasp what that favor is."

I looked at de ground sort o' sheepishly. I hadn' considered dat angle. "So why not jus' tell me dat from de beginning?"

"Cause yer a stubborn pain in the ass, and I didn't feel like it. That, and you haven't exactly been on the sensible side of late. Figured it'd be easier on you to have at least the illusion of space."

We sat in quiet, enjoying a smoke as de sky steadily lightened.

"When does dis end?"

"Her call." He glanced over at me. "I gotta admit, this seems tougher fer you than I thought it would be."

I chewed on de question I wanted to ask, nodding in acknowledgement instead. De conversation was bordering on personal: a genre Logan can't really stomach, so he stood.

"Well, you got yer freebie, Gumbo. You come at me swingin' again I'll put yer friggin lights out. And you owe me a phone and a shirt. Now go clean yerself up."

I tossed my cigarette over de banister, and headed woodenly up de stairs, almos' delirious wit' exhaustion. I would give all dis mo' t'ought tomorrow, fo' now no irreparable damage had been done. I collapsed onto my bed, not caring what de mud and debris might do to my sheets.

It didn' take me long to start drifting away, but jus' befo' my eyes closed I noticed an odd series o' stains on de ceiling. Dere was almos' a pattern.

Solving de mystery was my last coherent t'ought befo' losing consciousness: tape marks.

13