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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
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
 
 
 

Betrayal - REVIEW THIS STORY

Written by Valerie Jones
Last updated: 01/02/2007 02:01:11 AM

Chapter 40

Scott had to resort to using Cerebro to find Bishop. He had gone to Storm's attic loft and now stood amid the rampant greenery, staring at nothing. Or so Scott guessed. Otherwise, he was staring at the Wandering Jew that tumbled out of its pot on the stand directly before him. Scott didn't think Bishop was the kind to have much interest in plants. The only reason Scott recognized the purple-green leaves was because Jean had been trying to cultivate some cuttings that Storm had given her-- and every morning, he had to move it to get to the coffee.

"Are you all right, Bishop?" he asked.

Bishop turned his head a fraction, acknowledging Scott's presence.

"I. . . . apologize for my outburst. It was uncalled for."

Scott shrugged. "There's no reason to apologize. I'll admit I *was* a bit surprised, though."

Bishop was silent for several long moments. He took one of the Wandering Jew's leaves between his thumb and forfinger, examining it. The fleshy leaf seemed frail next to his giant hand.

"I hated him," he said quietly.

"Gambit?" Scott tried to make his voice encouraging. Bishop kept his emotions so thoroughly repressed that there was no telling how much he would be willing to say. But Scott could see the conflict inside Bishop, and knew how much it must be eating at him. He needed some kind of release-- someone to talk to. He briefly wished that Storm were here, but squashed the thought. It was his responsibility to take care of his team, and that meant more than just seeing to their physical safety.

Bishop nodded in response to the question. "As long as I can remember. It wasn't just about the traitor-- I didn't suspect him of that until just before I came here." Bishop paused. "He was always so cold. I never really believed he cared about us."

"And now you think differently?" Scott heard the catch in his own voice. Bishop's feelings fell too close to those that Cable had once expressed for the father who had abandoned him. They'd come to an understanding eventually, of course, but that didn't keep the memories from being painful.

Bishop turned to face Scott directly. "No. He raised me to be a tool-- to send here so that the X-men could be saved. He cared about you. . . ." His gaze fell. ". . . not me."

Scott wished desperately that he could do something to ease the other man's pain. "I'm sorry," was all he could think of to say.

"It's not important." Bishop hooked his thumbs in his belt. The vulnerability that had been there so briefly was vanishing. "Gambit has already proved that he is willing to sacrifice anything for the X-men. Raising me and sending me here is just a part of that."

"That doesn't make it hurt any less."

Bishop cocked his head as if torn between agreeing with and denying Scott's assessment. "No it doesn't. And I do not think I will ever forgive him completely for using me." Then his tone lightened a fraction. "But I have learned respect. I might have made the same choices."

Scott didn't have a response. *Respect* for Gambit wasn't something he had even considered. Now the concept haunted him. He understood suddenly what Jean had been trying to explain to him for the past few days.

He put a hand on Bishop's shoulder. "Are you going to be all right?"

Bishop nodded. "I will manage."

Scott left him to his thoughts. He had some thinking of his own to do, too. As he descended the stairs, he couldn't help but wonder if he shouldn't plan to spend some serious down-time at Harry's in the very near future.

 

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