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Chapters
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
 
 
 

If Ever - REVIEW THIS STORY

Written by Painted Eyes
Last updated: 01/02/2007 02:01:11 AM

Chapter 18

They could wait no longer to finish their analysis of Sinister's equipment and Hank reluctantly declared him sound enough for Rogue's test, provided she was restrained from harming Gambit if such a response was provoked.

That evening Jean came to tell him Rogue was there and what had been planned behind his back, but she did so only after Logan planted one big hand firmly in the middle of Remy's chest to keep him in bed. Then she told him who was with Rogue, which stopped all struggle and made Remy's face tighten and his dark eyes fill before he could hide them. Finally she'd told him what Rogue had planned, the test, and he'd just nodded miserably without a word. He had not tried to leave his room again and asked no questions of anyone.

With Ororo curled warm in the crook of his good arm, her pale head a welcome silken weight on his chest, he'd lain awake the whole night and come to as much peace with it as he could. Answers forthcoming, anyway, and limbo was a damned uncomfortable place. Might's well find out what life was gonna be from here on if he was going to be doomed to live it. Dream as he might, with his back against the wall he always reverted to the off-kilter pragmatism that had kept him alive more than once. A shitpile became a good thing because you could climb out of it.

With morning, he'd managed enough bravery for it, he thought. So everything of consequence happened today and he steadfastly refused to think past it even limping through the hall to what his theatrical soul conceived of as his appointment with destiny. He felt Logan's big hand press the small of his back, both propelling and reassuring, and realized he'd stopped as soon as it had sunk in where they were going.

"It has to be there, Remy ..." Jean explained gently, "I can't shield them all and the observation deck can be damped. I want to be able to protect you."

Din' like it, oh, Remy din' like 'dis a'tall, not d'place nor Jeannie feelin' like he needed protection. For a second Logan wasn't sure he wouldn't bolt by the expression on his face.

"Nobody's gonna touch ya', Gumbo." Growled from behind into his ear and he shivered, pressed back against Logan like a reluctant child into the reassuring warmth of a parent. That unconscious expression of trust pleased Logan for some reason and he let Remy lean back on him until he relaxed in the touch and composed himself.

"Heh. Wan' worriet 'bout dem hurtin' me, homme." With some teeth in the flash of a wolfish smile as the doors opened, he actually laughed out loud as he saw the construct of the Professor's study awaiting him. Jean tossed a hard look upward at the wash of hostility that answered his deceptive light-heartedness.

"Oh, parfait! 'Dis reassurin'! 'Le's do it in de' room Remy never in but t'get hammered f'somet'in'! Cch, comf't'ble, me."

"We can change it, Remy, Xavier ..."

"Don't know me from d'guy down d'walk n' it don' make no diff'nce. Hell, leas' it made Remy laugh, eh?"

Jean put her hand on his good arm, standing close to him and unsurprised to find him buzzing with tension.

Hank was waiting for them, and insisted on at least one chest sensor to monitor Remy's heart, which still had a tendency to develop arrhythmias. Remy suffered it with sullen ill humor, planting himself irreverently on the Xavier's pseudo desktop as only he dared do to the real thing. So mercurial a mood that she knew he felt them up there, too, his mind wildly unsettled with wanting to and wanting not to until she had to filter him to keep from getting dizzy herself.

"T'ink 'ev'body should hafta wear 'dis if Remy do, fuckin' lie detect'r is what it is, Remy ain' stupid."

"I'm the only one who will see the read-out." Henry assured him, patient and quiet as a man who knew very well why Remy was being difficult; wild horses couldn't have kept him from this, but he was also deeply distressed on so many levels he couldn't keep track of them himself and it showed in erratic vitals.

"Y'sure about this, Beast?" Logan grumbled with a vaguely threatening glance to the gallery, "That girl could clean this Cajun's clock in 'bout half a breath, he ain't too steady on them pins ..." More than half serious and Logan saw the flash of gratitude in Remy's glance. Funny how a guy with demon eyes could still show his heart in 'em. That heart might just get broke for good today and the prospect was not one Logan enjoyed. LeBeau had no power yet to speak of, and though Jean assured him his psychic defenses were rebuilding with exceptional efficiency, Logan wasn't easy in not being able to get a fix on him, his scents were all over the place from minute to minute like a rabid mink.

"Ain't scared of no femme ... least not whilst yer sittin' there, Frere."

Logan stretched his legs out in the club-chair and grunted, "It's my gettin' up y'gotta worry about, Gumbo, I like Rogue, y'know?"

"Yeh. Kinda like 'er m'self." Still uneasy, he gave Logan a piercing glance; "Quit 'dat smellin' me, don' like 'dat." Logan just grinned; his hypersenses still wierded Gambit out, didn't like being read off signals he didn't know how to subvert, and Logan figured he was already working on that. Actually, Remy was trying to slow his heart and breathe in enough air in this room where he imagined he could see the stains of his blood and hear the echoes of violence. He was panicking, a hair away from puking or running. Uncertainty could scream, and was, but it had been for too long and had to stop.

For a second he closed his eyes and tried to calm himself again, nearly useless. His stomach hurt, he felt other pains he hadn't felt for days. And he could feel them up there in the observation and command deck. Didn't have enough power to charge a ball of lint and he felt naked and vulnerable and despised as a bug in a jar with them staring down at him, Dieu, he could feel them staring. He didn't look up, focused on holding the poker face. C'est froid, he actually shivered, but Jean smiled encouragement from the windowseat where a fake sun shone fake light and he took a few deep breaths.

When Rogue stepped into the room, his face went still as a graveyard angel and everything in him stopped dead. His eyes ignited.

Rogue had to steel her heart against what a frail bruised ghost he looked, washed out by the light from the window, eyes still faintly blacked and a new scar through his eyebrow that he would always carry.

Remy had thought he was ready and wasn't anywhere near ... the vibrant colors of her, the way the world settled and made sense around her, solid ground in the swamp all the rest of his life was. All the lush curves and vibrant hues and sloe-eyed smoky-voiced Southern womanhood that was life itself. Arms really could ache to be filled, hands hurt to touch.

Rogue took a breath. "Remy." Acknowledging him warily in a voice loaded with the emotions she refused to show any of them, but which he felt at a depth that made the fine hairs rise all over his body.

Mah God ... she didn't even need to look at him to feel him in the room, and for one rushing instant the sight of him alive and moving and the familiar thrum of his energy felt so good ... her eyes shifted into a bright emerald accusation - was he doing it to her now? Bringing those feelings out of her? Her eyebrows swept down and she felt cold, used it to compose herself. Today she would know whether he had manipulated her feelings, whether she could ever have faith in her own heart. Perhaps know that she did love him and must find a way to either reconcile her mistrust or leave him for her own good. Crossroads, and she couldn't know he was utterly unable to breathe or speak or move.

She saw only the arrogant hipshot slouch against the desk like a rebellious teen, legs outstretched and ankles crossed, and his hands braced on either side of his narrow hips, chin cocked up and faintly defiant ... guess he could be with Logan sitting a little behind him in a bored slouch, she knew he was there as bodyguard. Jean was composed and projecting neutrality. She nodded to each, obviously uncertain whether they were there as friends to both or as Remy's allies.

Beast extended the admantium ankle restraints they had agreed upon as a precaution but Remy, who had not taken his eyes off her, lifted a hand and said softly,

"Non."

Her eyes widened as a crookedly edgy smile livened the frightening gauntness of his face. He looked awful, he looked hurt and scared under the carefree mask and she fought the traitorous part of her that wanted to take him in her arms, ease the loneliness that made them both so frail. But at the same time she realized with a deep ache that they could never have hoped to balance each other, she who could touch no one and he who touched with perpetually dissatisfied abandon. He refused restraints for her, intimating a faith in her affection he couldn't know, and didn't unless he was working her, which he'd promised she wouldn't. He'd always kept his word when it could be wrangled out of him. Arrogance, then. She stepped into the restraints and allowed a guilty satisfaction when his smile disappeared. But she could feel his eyes like coals on her skin even when she wasn't looking at him.

The Professor's disembodied voice startled everyone but Jean, "Henry has activated the mechanism and we are not experiencing any negative effects up here that I can determine from my scans."

A brief silence ensued, then Remy spread his arms with a breath of his old wickedness and offered himself up to whatever would be.

"Come n' get me, 'den, chere ..."

Her simmering temper rose at his flippancy but she ignored him to look up.

"Professuh?" She said, and when he responded, "Ah don't need no evesdroppin' on mah personal life n' Ah won't be spreadin' Gambit's around, neither. He didn't give his memories of his own free will n' Ah didn't take 'em that way, Ah won't compound the invasion of both our privacies by discussin' ... what he n' Ah have t'discuss with all 'a you listenin'."

Remy regarded her across the room approvingly. Didn't particularly want to stand there and chance getting dumped on with assholes enjoyin' it, either, but he hadn't had the nerve to even ask. By the long silence and the occasional gesture there was an argument going on upstairs he wished he'd instigated, but finally the Professor agreed. Hank picked up his monitor and walked out, but Remy unexpectedly stopped Logan and Jean as they came abreast of him.

"Non, mes amis." Uneasy, the slanting glance intense and embarrassed. "Need you, me." So quietly only they could hear him or see the quiet plea on his face. He had no idea where this would go and he was scared, Xavier had warned that his control over the unknowns in him was tenuous, but whether it was fear of those unknowns slipping free here today or of being alone to get his heart broken neither Jean nor Logan could tell. Jean looked to Rogue for her agreement, and though she flushed at how protectively close they stood to him, she demurred.

"So long as Ah have y'word of honor - n' Ah know it means somethin' to you two, at least - " Remy flinched visibly and color climbed the bruised heights of his cheekboness, "that nothin' said here gets repeated. Evah." Meaning it.

"Alright, we'll sit over here out of the way."

"Cutting audio."

It was as if all sound in the world got cut off, the room went so silent. Jean shifted at the intensity of Rogue and Remy's two-way regard and felt Logan's uneasiness as well, so much going on in that clashing current between them.

"Chere ..." Gambit's voice was gentle, breaking the awkward moment for them both and giving her permission with a playful come-on gesture that only Jean knew for generous, "I know y'got t'ings t'say t'me, I know ... t'ain't a comf'tble place, 'dis mind o'mine, n' my mem'ries ... well, I earned 'em, chere, n' you didn't."

"Do you understand," Rogue replied in a strong voice naked with dismay, contemptuous of his attempts to dull the keen edge of what had to be done, "That Ah cain't conceive of a man who could -make- such memories?"

He looked at her and said nothing, not liking what he saw in her face. Closed to him. Changed. The world shivered for a second and he got cold again. Though his expression did not waver, Jean felt him tighten from head to foot.

Rogue went on mercilessly, "Do y' understand that Ah'll nevah be able t'trust mah feelin's for ya? That hidin' all this makes y'a stranger t'me? These mem'ries are like pollution in mah head ... Remy ..." The crux of the matter to her, her horror too huge to hide, "How could y'kill those poor folks like that, like butchers, like animals!"

"Didn't kill no one, y'only got part, 'dere's more to it. Remy din' know what de Marauders knew, t'ought it was just recon. Tried t'stop it, me..." And nearly died, Jean knew, closed her eyes a moment against a slashing sear of remembered agony (claws ripping skin and muscle and organs) but he didn't overplay the hand, erring on the side of caution in his determination to blind himself to every empathic sense for Rogue's sake.

"Y'f'gettin' Gambit tried t'show you in Seattle, I wanted you t'know it all ... "

"You wouldn't tell me like a man who loved and trusted a woman would." Eyes sparking hard as emeralds and it hurt to have that look directed at him.

"Gambit offered it t'you, girl ..." But she cut him off with a furious gesture.

"No, no! Y'tried t'get me t' *take* it, t'absorb it from you, there's a big difference! Ah wanted the man Ah loved t'give it t'me like I was givin' mahself, Ah wanted t'see yer face n' look int'yer eyes n' hear it in yer voice, not have it shoved int' mah head like down-loadin' a program off the Internet! Ah wanted more than the pictures, Remy, Ah needed t'know how you felt about it, what it meant t'ya, how it made ya feel without it bein' all mixed up with how AH feel! Ah wanted y'to trust me enough t'share it with me even if it hurt ya t'do it!"

Past tense, all past tense ... Dieu she was so damned beautiful all afire like this, color and spirits high and bright, he'd always wanted her most when she was sparkin' and maybe reckless enough f'once ... Something niggled at the back of his mind, something important ... suddenly his head shot up, eyes widening, brightening.

"'Dis machine, Sinister's machine, it be on, right Jean?" She nodded serenely, affirming more than that simple fact and congratulating him wryly for finally figuring it out. His grin was unexpected as a lightening strike and Rogue actually blinked and heeled back as he came right up to her and gripped her arm, his warm proximity setting off unwelcome but undeniable tingles and shivers. In the gallery above several forms shifted forward to the glass.

Rogue stood quietly, her face still and attentive, faintly troubled by the smug slant to his grin.

"Yer pissed, y'hate me - but y' not hurtin' Remy, neh? Y'could ... " Discounting the adamantium shackles even she suspected would not hold her, "N' y'ain' ..." Confusion and anger vied for dominance in her face, his voice dropped to an intimate croon as he leaned close.

"Yer mad like a femme mad at a man she care for, not like someone she hate ... " Lashes fell a lush coy curtain over his gleaming eyes, his voice fell to an intimate purr; "Why izzat?" Rumpled and disheveled and his leg awkwardly canted, beautiful as sin and his long elegant hand reaching again, holding tight on her bicep for balance and to discomfit her, she thought. In truth it was because he just had to touch her in some way before this was over, he might never be able to again if this gambit failed.

"You ain' been driven to murder by now, I don' 'magine it's in y'. Which must mean your feelin's are genuine."

This quieted the rush of heat in her but did not lessen it. Purposefully, because she did not trust the trip-hammering organ in her chest or his knowing smile that ran in through her eyes to her brain like a sweet warm drug, she held his look and unwound his fingers with a cold firmness that would not be denied.

"Yes. Maybe I never did hate you, Remy, maybe mah heart ain't been jerked around totally this time. But it don't mean nothin' more than that."

"Wrong, chere, it mean y'love me ..."

"Sugah, Ah love caramel custard, too, but it ain't good f'me n' Ah don't nevah eat it." Cold and final. "It doesn't change anythin'. That Ah don't hate ya doesn't mean Ah love ya, ya still coulda forced that outta me."

He tipped his chin up at her in a slit-eyed appraisal.

"An' if Remy wan's t'jes take yer bare hand right now n' let y'see it, mebbe know what'y t'ink widout influencin' ya? See what conclusions y'draw on yer own widout my feelin's r'words 'bout it?"

"If the accents get any thicker in here we're gonna need a translator." Logan grumbled and gave Jean a droll wink when she couldn't completely contain the soft laugh that went unnoticed in the battle being joined across the room.

Rogue's eyes spit green fire, her delicate heart-shaped face flushed pink, "You chicken-shit piece a' gator-bait! Yer talkin' 'bout mem'ries even you cain't abide n' y'think I should jes let y'plant 'em in mah head? T'make it easier on y'self y're gonna give me, permanent, th'pictures n' sounds n' smells that drive -you- half-insane? How selfish is that, swamp rat? Yer always askin' me t'trust ya n' yet y'don't trust me enough t'think Ah kin understan' yer life before the X-Men without havin' it become a permanent part of mah psyche! Make it mah guilt, too, oh, y'so generous, lovah! Ah don' have enough on mah own!"

He'd never seen the face she showed him now and he was sure he'd known them all - his heart was fisting by slow degrees. With strangely detached horror he saw in that beloved face a loathing that hammered home how profound his influence must have always been to have ever subverted her to loving him. Not come to him because she'd wanted to, but because he'd wanted her. Helplessly he stood in the storm of her disdain, speechless.

"Ah've seen all Ah evah want t'see of yo-ah mem'ries, Gambit, Ah wouldn't wish 'em on mah worst enemy! It was a dream you used me t'get f'yo'self! It was nevah mah dream at all! Hell, you've made y'self mah nightmares now!"

Stricken and trying hide it, not wanting her to feel responsible for not feeling what he needed her to feel, Dieu, needed ... He sat down on the desk and leaned forward, capped his knees with his hands in silence, pressing his elbow on his taped ribs for the focus of that pain. Only physical and insignificant compared to what it was inside, holding that down, forcing down what wanted to come tearing up. He had to just sit still for too long not to create an awkward silence, head turned away because he couldn't hope to hide anything just now and he'd sworn not to cause her another moments' pain. Her face, her voice, cold and distant as a maligned acquaintance, tolled in the aching hollow of his head.

He hadn't believed it in his heart, he'd been absolutely certain she had loved him even if she no longer could. To be proven so utterly wrong ... his whole world lurched under him and he fought with every decent thing in him to restrain the empath power that wanted to *make* her love him. Could not burden that huge and tender heart in her with responsibility for his ruin.

Finally, in a gently regretful rasp and so quiet she had to strain to hear him, he said, "Was never my t'ought t'hurt ye, chere, was never in my heart. I couldn't tell ya bout all 'dat, I knew y'couldn't love such a man 'd'better I got t'know you." He looked up at her, then, straight-on, face, eyes nakedly honest, "Y'told me y'secrets, Rogue, all d' t'ings y'felt so damned by, n' it didn' evah come close t'what I'd done." He dropped his head, shook it and couldn't look back up. "Y'heart too honest and deep-feelin'. Too moral for a man like me. Gambit'll be sorry ev'day of th' rest of his life ... "

"Ah'm sure 'o that, Remy, but you'll survive, like always, n' end up alone with yaself. Bad company y'keep, Cajun."

A flash of pain rippled under his skin and he kept it in with an effort, ribs blazing now and beginning to go a little grey around the edges. He wanted so badly to cry.

Logan sat up, scent alerted, but Jean's hand on his arm held him in his seat, her small knowing smile.

"I smell blood ..." Logan murmured, his defensive systems on overdrive, but Jean laced her fingers into his rough calloused hand and that was all it took to focus him on her.

"He will be fine, my friend, trust me, he's bitten the inside of his mouth, that's all. He has to go through this." Almost to herself, then; "Now, if ever, mon ami."

Enigmatic and concentrating closely on them so Logan felt safe in relaxing, his palm warming around the long delicate length of her hand.

"You deserve it, Remy! You deserve t'be alone, a man who lies and hides who and what he is from somebody who trusts him with her heart, ya don't deserve no bettah than that ..."

For a moment he believed her, as he had always believed the worst of himself. For a delicate moment through which Jean held her breath and Ororo pressed both hands to the glass above him, everything went black and he wanted it to stay that way forever, wanted to fall away into it. Ironically, the beloved sound of Rogue's voice broke through.

"Maybe sometimes folk do have true feelins' for ya - but how you evah gonna tell when?"

Jean gasped, her hand hardening in Logan's at the unerring cruelty of Rogue's words. Remy's head shot up, dark eyes wide - he could never know, never be sure ... The brow Rogue arched knowingly at him was satisfied at having struck him where he was most vulnerable, and he'd never thought, even pissed with him, that she'd try to hurt him that way, do it on purpose. Her smile made him almost nauseous and she went on.

"Ah certainly would nevah be able to. Ah've loved th'wrong man is all, n' Ah'm not th' first woman t'make that mistake. Ah wanted somethin' that ain't good f'me n' prob'ly nevah will be, but Ah ain't some weaklin' femme too dumb t'walk away n' try agin somewhere else. This team can do without you, Gambit, n' so can Ah. Ah'm tired t'my bones of thinkin' 'bout it, 'bout you, 'bout what you done t'me and Ah done t'you. Sometimes it's just best t'cut yer losses, f'me, f'everybody."

He stood up, regarding her from under lowered brows, frowning and somber and Jean tested the enormity of his hurt to find anger beneath. She smiled.

"Makin' decisions f'ev'body again, chere?" An awkward step toward her and a cock of his head, eyes glinting dangerously for all his devastated calm.

"You see friends up there, Remy? You see any open arms invitin' y't'stick around?"

Unwillingly he looked up, but all he saw was Joseph standing right next to the glass like a condemning icon of purity, his pale eyes blazing with a possessive threat that unexpectedly and utterly pissed him off. He turned back to her with a shade of his old grace and a true scowl, finger pointing square at her.

"You nev' trusted me, ma fille, or you never coulda lef' me 'dere, not after d'night we spen ... " She colored furiously to be reminded of that, suddenly looking like a deer in the headlights and this time he grinned - using the truth to wound was a game he had long ago mastered.

"Gambit ain' pure n' empty n' safe n' nev' will be. N' I'll keep all 'de memories I got, even d'ones 'dat shred my soul, just t'keep 'dat one night we had! Didn't none of us come here from a vacuum, chere - 'cept y'darlin' Joseph, mebbe, n' when his mem'ries come back mebbe y'hate him, too, his sins n' mine be in d'same ballpark, reckon. Less, course, it's true what I hear 'dat he c'n touch you - 'den alot t'ings be alot clearer."

This knowledge startled Logan and Jean, careful as they'd been to keep even a whisper from him, and his question struck like a razor across Rogue's throat. Onyx and ruby eyes caught hers and held them mercilessly, this time he used the empath power and didn't care who knew it to read her: Guilt not enough for having done, but in her mind to do it and obviously in Joseph's. The hurt was deep and vital, a thing of pride and possession and love lost as much as a roaring fury to imagine Magneto's hands on her, her responding to him, every minute free to touch, kiss ...

"That's always what the game was, wasn't it Remy ..." Seeing the jealous fire in his eyes. "Well, you were the first n'll always be, you won." Bitterly, and the bark of laughter he answered with was every bit as caustic.

"Wasn't nev' a contest, but hey, I woulda wrapped m'self in saran wrap t'have you n' nev' said otherwise. Merde, I'm a man n' yer a woman whether y'want t'admit it or not! Been dyin' t'get next t'ya since the day I met 'ya n' nev' made a secret of it, t'ought of a hundred ways t'do it, me, Remy's a clever son! But y'never wanted t'hear it, y'always ran off like I was torturin' ya or somethin - 'dis homme coulda taught you real well by now what a woman's pleasure can be." Voice and eyes in velvet timbrered certainty and she shivered with a sudden bolt of desire too coincidental not to be him, her temper flared, Jean felt a flash of fear.

"Stop it, nobody who's done the things you've done should expect a decent woman t'welcome his bloody hands onto her! Take a murderer into her! That's what you did to me, Remy! Took the finest thing ever happened to me and made it dirty!"

Perverting what was the only pure loving desire he'd ever known and damned if he didn't feel fire scalding his veins.

"Dat's be exactly why I nev' tol' you nothin'! Remy knew 'dis be d'way ye'd react, y'din wan' d'truth from me like y'say y'did 'less y'wanted t'leave me, non? Why you t'ink 'dat empty carcass up 'dere appeals t'ya so much besides he can touch y'wit'out scarin' ya f'how much y'want it?" She colored even further at this, never having known he was aware of that in her and experiencing an enormous swell of shame and embarrassment that he knew what his touch, even gloved, did to her. That his intimate smiles alone could make her feel like she had honey running under her skin. She opened her mouth without knowing what furious words would come, but he cut her off.

"Je' t'emmerde (Fuck you)! Fuck him! He's got NO hist'ry, 'dat make 'im good 'nough f'you? Don't bot'er you he's tried t'off us all more n' once? Why'm I d'only sinner whose sins seem t'count? Maybe I conk m'self on d'head n' fergit all 'bout 'em, you come t'Remy's bed 'den?"

"Joseph's got nothin' t'do with this, Remy! Any human bein' in their right mind would react th' same way as I did ... Ah don' believe you find it anythin' but purely natural f'me t'be disgusted by what y'all've done, -you- are! But it's not just you, Remy, Ah'm disgusted with mahself f' thinkin' Ah was in love with a man who could do things like that and then just go on with livin' n' laughin' n' havin' a good time ..."

"Like you, y'mean? Merde! Y'may be naive, chere, but innocent - non! Y've taken a woman's life out t'rough her skin n' appropriated it as yer own, ye've contributed yer share of nasty mayhem t'the worl' with yer darlin' Mam and de' Brotherhood! Gambit handsome as, but he -ain't- 'd devil walkin'!"

"Ye are t'me!" She screamed, hurt beyond reason by these bluntly callous reminders, things she'd told him in confidence that hurt her every day he was using to justify himself, she could feel her temper going.

Remy lurched to his feet, hot-eyed himself now and ignoring Joseph's protesting move but not missing it out of the corner of his eye, defiantly balancing himself.

"Va au diable! (Go to hell) YOU ain't t'only opinion in th'worl', chere, n' you made it plain y'don' care f'me, why Remy should care what y't'ink? Jus' gonna stand 'ere, Remy is, n' let 'ya insult 'him to y'heart's content? I got my own 'pinions, 'den! Ye're a selfish, moody, short-sighted, naive, judgemental backwoods gal tryin' t'blind 'erself t'her flaws by makin' mine so big there ain't room f'nothin' else!"

He actually took a step toward her before he remembered his leg wouldn't support him so boldly and he twisted awkwardly, fell with a quickly stifled grunt of impatient pain.

At that moment the thing unexpected by any except Jean happened; Rogue saw blood spots on the carpet by his bracing hand, heard his breath high and tight in his chest and astonished them all by breaking through the adamantium bonds without apparent thought to get to him before Logan had even put his feet on the floor. Remy lashed out with his newly uncasted arm to keep her away from him, impatient and angry gestures touched with acidic despair.

"Va te faire foutre (Fuck off) Get offa me, Rogue, I'm too easy t'take now, y'could squish me like a bug ..."

She stood over him, hurt and furious.

Remy didn't bother to get up, just sat there and looked up at her, flags of red rising high on his pale cheekbones and his eyes flaring with deep fury. Exhausted, Rogue could almost feel it, but the quiet cold slither of his voice was strong.

"Y'know, I been los' as a soul c'n be. Done t'ings dat'll be an everlastin' shame, but I ne'r t'ought m'self worthy t'be 'nother man's judge n' execution'r less he was tryin' t'part me body from soul. N' Remy LeBeau nev'r lef' a frien' t'die wit'out hearin' 'im out. Y'done more f'a stranger you know is an enemy 'dan for an enemy y'know f'y friend."

Rogue's face froze, and for the first time her guilt satisfied him; "All a body's hist'ry be in d'tally, Rogue, what is well as what's been. Remy ... I been a villain sure 's shit, but I ain't now n' I ain't been f'years, n' none o' you, not even Sinister, gon' make me 'dat man ag'n."

"Bravo ..." Jean murmured, and in her heart the ever-present fear for him finally eased.

It was that he felt, the warm rush of her relief, her love and pride like an embrace he instinctively turned toward with a gently quizzical smile, "Chere?"

Rogue bristled at the rich affection in that soft sound, the language of eyes between them ... then she realized they were talking telepathically. Her mouth rounded, brilliant eyes widened in confused and increasingly angry surprise, but Logan only lofted a wry eyebrow when she looked to him to see if he knew.

"Been in the same zone ever since that night." Was all he said, and she knew he, too, was keeping secrets.

Jean's eyes poured over him like a summer sky and for a long moment he enjoyed the gentle touch in his mind that so soon would be gone.

*Fighting for yourself - a man who doesn't fight for things of no value, eh?*

Fighting for himself. In her faith, in Logan's and 'Ro's, perhaps he had found his own ... but before he could really appreciate the breadth of that epiphany Rogue's anger escaped.

"You dirty, low-down, lyin', murderin' sonofabitchin' thief!" From growl to full-throated shout, "A telepath! You fucking bastard!" If she'd ever wanted to kill him it was now and it was plain on her face, in her furious eyes.

"Quoi?" Remy's eyebrows knotted, still half distracted by Jean's revelation.

"Readin' mah mind, no wonder it was so easy f'ya to manipulate me! Ya moved me 'round like a damned dollbaby!"

"Non, mais non, Rogue..." Seeing the misunderstanding and struggling to his feet, his hands waving rapidly at eye level like she was a bull getting set to charge.

"It's already goin', nev' could do it n' won' be able to f'long ..."

"Liar!"

"Rogue, it is true, once his shields are complete they will block telepathy as efficiently as always." Jean's attempt to calm only drew Rogue's viciously accusing look.

"Don't ya stick up f'him, MRS. Summers!" Clearly having figured it out at last and Remy knew then that she would not believe him, nothing he said, would not even hear him. Something fell in him, dropped down dead.

"Y'went for it, Jean!" Rogue accused hotly, "All that foxy charm n' those pretty ways got 'im int' yer pants, didn't it! How'd your husband take it?"

Jean didn't even look up into the gallery, but she was profoundly glad the sound system was off. Her shoulders squared in the sense of Remy's shame for her sake though she did not feel that way at all. Tears rose in his eyes to know how deeply she valued him and Jean answered his awareness with a beatific smile before turning back to Rogue, calm and firm, determined to do all she could for both of them.

"You make decisions on very little information, Rogue, usually hasty and often ill-conceived. I know you lead with your heart, and it is a fine and deep heart, but it doesn't always serve you well. Do not blame me for your anger, because I agree with Remy - yours is the natural response of a woman who has been lied to by someone she trusts, a woman who has discovered the object of her devotion is perhaps less - or more - than he's presented himself to be. There is nothing irrational or illogical in your anger to suggest Sinister's machine is successfully manipulating you, and you are so truly angry with him that Remy can't be influencing you. Doesn't the depth of your own passion suggest some abiding attachment?"

Logan studied them, Rogue with her fists clenched and tears standing in her eyes, her face tight and her body trembling, Jean slim and tall and straight. Remy's eyes had begun to burn again with a recklessness Logan knew and worried to see now.

Jean went on, reasonable and calm. "I doubt you can admit it. You may never, though I pray you will eventually, it isn't going to just disappear. But you did truly love him, and that is what you both needed to know."

"Ah mighta had feelin's, but Ah ain' the first woman t'be fooled by a heartbreakin' face. Lotsa men wear 'em, n' even you, smart woman that you are, fell for it! How's it feel t'have betrayed your husband with a loser, a liar, a thief ... "

"Arrete!" Remy shouted, "Again y'makin' judgements on what y'don't know a fuckin' t'ing about! Y'r a lunatic, woman, hard-headed as a rock!" Furiously incredulous, then he slapped his fingertips against his forehead, "Figured it out, me! Don' matter what Remy done or been or DO, you afraid of what he -is-!" The truth was as boggling to him as it was to her, it frightened him as much for the finality it imparted, yet he would not deny it.

"Nothin' I EVAH do is gonna be 'nough f'you, nothin', nevah!" His face sharp with fury, the sinews of his neck and hands straining, gestures wild and hard. "Scared shitless of what y'feel f'me, y'need t'believe th' worst so much even the tru't don' get in ya way! Well, I'm gonna give y'some tru't, ya crazy femme! Lyin' worse n' Remy ev' did, you are, pickin' up with 'dat empty, f'crissakes! Loser, am I? Y'backwoods river rat!"

Chin trembling, Rogue signaled the Professor.

"Rogue?" Xavier's voice inquired.

"We're done here, Professuh, Hank can do whatever he likes with that damned machine now ..."

"I don't t'ink so, chere, we not quite done, not quite yet."

"Gambit ...?" Again Xavier's voice inquiring and Remy cut him off with a gesture that was oddly imperial. The interface was disconnected again, but that wasn't what Remy wanted.

*Hey!* Above, Xavier and Psylocke both gasped at the blunt intrusion into their minds, raw unfocused power like a hot needle.

*Y'come listen, now! 'Dis boy got some t'ings t'say!* A quiet pop said he had been obeyed and he turned a contemptuous look at their disapproving faces in the gallery above, at Rogue. Anger blunted the pain nicely, so he let it come, it didn't matter anymore.

"Y'all 'tink y'know 'dis t'ief so well, got me sussed a loser, smart-ass half-wit - seems Remy done too good a job convincin' y' 'e's a no'count layabout 'cept f'chasin' skirts - not 'dat 'dis ain't de'trut, 'tis." A flicker of a slanted grin; "Served me t'have y' t'ink so, kept y'off my back mostly, but 'dat time seems t'be ovah."

Remy sat down in the Professor's chair behind the desk and was very still for a long few minutes during which he contemplated them grimly. Finally he straightened. Actually, Jean thought, it was more than that - he *became*, as if putting off the disguise of the Remy they knew to reveal the true man within. Jean felt an anticipation that was almost glee. Head erect as the Prince he was, shoulders squared with an easy regality that held them all quiet, even Xavier, in his piercingly direct regard.

"Seems ol' Remy come t'th place where he shares a bit 'o 'imself wit' ya - nev' said I wouldn't, just don't like bein' forced to it - do t'ings in m'own time, see." Manifesting in their presence for the first time what Jean had glimpsed in his mind - a daunting intellect long hidden, acuities unshared, discriminating instincts and scholarly beyond their grasp. A man who wore the mantle of power far more naturally than any had suspected.

"Reckon it'll have an impact now, neh? Who gave y'all th' moral aut'ority t'question me? Who d'hell d'ya all t'ink y'are 'dat pryin' int' Remy Lebeau is 'de national pastime? D'ya see me stickin' my honk int' ev'body's personal life?" A hedge, because he hacked into their files regularly while monitoring his own businesses and had no compunctions about theirs either, never did them any harm. Certainly wasn't his fault no one had the talent to get into his - Remy was through kidding himself, he wasn't a saint and never pretended to be. No longer had to be. It relaxed him as he hadn't been for a very very long time, more than not caring, because it hurt deep inside and he knew he was feeling only the leading edge of that hurt, but also knowing he would somehow survive.

*Whole, Remy. Just you, and still whole*

He grinned at her and it lifted Jean's heart to see how true a grin it was, irascible, sparking. Dangerous again, and she was fiercely glad of it.

"Ask Remy no questions n' e'll tell y' no lies, but keep pryin' where a man's made it plain 'e ain' willin' n' y'gotta expect a fight or a lie. Didn' particular wan' t'be dustin' m'self off on all y' when a little obfuscation'd keep y' off my back, nobody ev' said y'had t'know all n' ev't'ing 'bout me y'wanted to. Pff. Buncha nosy self-righteous shits."

It was the first real and clearly directed anger anyone had seen from him since he'd been brought back from Antarctica and Jean's eyes brightened, her fingers wiggled in Logan's happily.

"Yer a perverse woman, Jean, anybody ever tell you that?" Wolverine muttered, but she was too engrossed in the extraordinary revelations unfolding before them, Remy revealing himself at last. Bolstered by Sinister's contrary machine and the knowledge of true friends at his back, Remy was standing up for himself. Probably had no idea he was doing it or what it meant, but it was a deep satisfaction to Jean to see him find an anchor in the only truly safe place there was - himself.

""Loser, libertine, liar - just a t'ief? 'Dat what y'truly t'ink? Rogue? Alla ya? Well, d'thief part be true, proud of 'dat, me, best damned t'ief in d'worl'! But dis loser ..." clapping his hand with a resounding report to his chest, proud fury animating every bruised feature, "Got a kingdom t'take up when 'dese halls n' all you fine noble heroes are b'hind me. Dis failure could absorb 'dis whole operation in a heartbeat n' likely run it better!" His finger pointed at Xavier ruthlessly, enjoying their discomfiture with a wicked delight.

"Y'r accountant's asleep at de switch, Xavier, but yer portfolio's up by 27.6% las' quarter, Warren's too - course 'dat was just t'cover my license wit' 'is credit cards." A nastily satisfied little grin at Warren's reddening face. "Cerebro n' me real well acquainted ..." The smile disappeared, leaving only a hard glint to answer the chill that stiffened all their faces up there.

"Ha, coulda dumped ev't'ing in 'dere a year ago did I want to, y' bunch of self-righteous twits! Coulda had 'dat computer zappin' yer asses at Remy's pleasure. Yeah, I let y'see now, me." Almost to himself, deadly calm, his bruised and battered face transformed into a man none knew; he felt it, introduced himself.

"Here be Remy Etienne LeBeau!" A flick of fingers above his head and red sparks flew, the chair he was sitting in suddenly a throne, "Prince o'de New Orleans Thieves Guild n' Master of the Craft, d' youngest ev' so named by fifty years!" Glowering up defiantly at them, an aristocrat in his sudden contemptuous command.

"Dis t'ief ain't stole a fuckin' t'ing but what y'asked of me since I been an X-Man. Mebbe didn't learn t'read 'til I was ten and nev' went t'any real school, but none o'ya got a 'ting on me, believe it. Movers n' shakers my lovely white ass, y'd be a dust-speck in 'd halls of power Remy walk, couldn't get on 'd'elevator! Don' know nothin' 'bout 'dis boy, where he c'n get to, nor how high!" He smiled humorlessly, a baring of even white teeth, chin cocked up.

Xavier's attention was riveted by what Gambit was so unexpectedly revealing, dark eyes narrow and burning and calm as a prince betrayed too many times to be brought low by it anymore. Charles' eyes widened at sudden memories of expensively impeccable suits and well-read business dailies, tastes and insights and manners that would, if he'd put them together at the time, have revealed a far greater intellect, resource and sophistication than anyone knew. He reached experimentally after these facets Remy had never before revealed, not surprised to find the walls more than enough to keep him out without a fight. Not surprised when one elegant auburn eyebrow arched at him, acknowledging the touch as he never had before.

Here was the man he'd only glimpsed in cleverness and stealth, here was the long thinker finally ready to play his hand and Xavier had a sinking feeling they were being given this sudden insight only because Remy no longer cared what they thought of him or needed from him. Young as he was, he'd hidden this man he was from them, all this time exerting a subtle influence that bent their eyes around all he wanted hidden, even the most powerful telepaths in the world ... A visceral fear lit in Xavier to realize even he had been manipulated ...

"Don't let it piss 'y off, Worthin'ton, 'dat 'dis t'ief could buy n' sell y' many times ovah." Another toothy grin warming up to the moment in their silence.

"Stolen, LeBeau, any riches you've got!" Warren shouted down at him but Remy only laughed upward in true delight.

"Y'wish, I know! Fact is, Remy made 'is bones stealin' d'stolen - not all t'ieves honest enough t'say 'dey are, eh? Gov'ments appropriatin' antiquities f' museums, spoils of war int' private collections, d'strong takin' ev't'ing of value from d'weak ... 'dis t'ief even d'score - n' sometimes f'fun as much as profit! Scores nobody else coulda made or woulda tried - worth a lot, 'dose are. Ha! Remy LeBeau don' need d'money anymore, c'n rest on d'laurels for'ev, me! Buy you lock n' stock, did y'have a t'ing I wanted, on d'interest of a couple accounts ... Remy be diversified, mes amis, in a big way!"

An eloquently easy shrug, pride in the set of his head and the spread of his hands, the challenge of his sparking eyes. "Ain't sayin' I nev' t'ieved t'live, was all 'dere was t'do sometimes n' I liked livin'. Nev' ashamed of it 'til I come here, not 'dat part. Made mistakes, sure, done wicked evil t'ings, maybe unforgiveable, even. But y'never cared 'bout 'dat whilst Remy was servin' ya. Den Remy's d'creature not trusted, scared 'cause he ate at y'tables n' still hunted f' 'is own! Logan does d'same n' we bot' be honorable men, compris? S'prise y' t'know y' don' define honor, none of ya! Y'all got shameful t'ings in ya, and 'd'X-Men ain' d'only noble purpose in 'd worl'. When I leave 'dis place, I got another t'go to, Remy ain' despised ev'where, much as y'like t'tink 'd feelin' is universal."

The Thieves Guild, Jean knew, and the Professor knew it as well, she felt the uncertainty of his thoughtful regard as he studied Remy intently. They would lose him to that world if no effort was made to keep him with them, he would return to the secret halls of a far-reaching empire that had long lusted after him, his talents, his leadership. He had been ostracized, shunned, exiled ... but that was long ago and he had made himself a force to be reckoned with in the meantime. These days, such forces were desperately needed.

Jean's smile went watery ... he was bidding them farewell with this honesty, she knew it, and though it hurt more deeply than she could show that they might lose him forever, she was fiercely glad he would be whole in the world. She looked up at the Professor, their eyes met, sorrows matched.

Xavier was deeply distressed by the turn this confrontation had taken as well as by the revelations Remy was making. Skill and character he was only being allowed to glimpse today that would be lost to the X-Men forever, what he had always assumed for a con now proven a more masterful trickery than he'd ever suspected. They might never know what had been lost in losing Remy Etienne LeBeau.

No one spoke, grim visages gazed down at the Danger Room and at the sight of them, Remy started to laugh.

"Oh me ..." He stood up, threw open his arms to them sarcastically. "Like a buncha parents, alla ya, n' d' tattooed biker comin' t'date yer daughter! 'De whole worl' dependin' on you ... ah, me, poor worl'! Listen -'dis ol loser feel d' need t'walk swampy ground again, be 'roun' folk don' hold 'demselves 'bove no one ... wanna dance, me, do some laughin', spen' some time wit' real folk 'stead of 'dis bunch of over-inflated egos."

He turned to Rogue, who was staring at him as though she'd never seen him before, and his face softened, his voice went quiet and gentle and ineffably sad.

"Why of all d'women in d'worl' would I want you? Y' t'ink I can help it? Ha! If I coulda, I woulda, yer a plain torment t'a man of my nature, chere, Remy had more fine women dan one man has a right to, n' m'heart settles on you, don' know why. Crazy, me. Crazy. I'd rather be in hell wit' ya 'dan in heaven wit'out, but you're not gon' give 'dat heart y'protect a chance t'know it. Gonna cleave t'dat big white-haired blank up 'dere n' convince y'self he's d'better man. Anybody you could touch woulda been d'same, eh? First man comes 'long you don't drain, y'take to like breathin'. Remy allus been difficult, c'est vrai! (That's true!). But Remy allus been wort' d'trouble, too."

He looked at them all in a sweep Jean felt in his heart, regret and sorrow and a peace new to him. Alone, perhaps, but no longer lonely.

Then he turned and strolled head-high out of the room without a look back, leaving a deep uneasy silence in his wake.

 

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