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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
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 45

Warren Worthington rested one hand lightly on the danger room controls, debating whether to adjust them. The control room windows were darkened, making him invisible to the man below. Not that he was likely to notice anyway, considering the level the danger room was running at. Warren continued to watch, and continued to debate with himself. He was concerned-- there was no argument there. He just wasn't sure he had any right to interfere. Or any responsibility.

Finally, he hit the intercom button, and told Cerebro who he wanted to talk to. The Professor's com badge beeped several times before it was answered.

"Professor," Warren said, "would you come down to the control room?"

"What is it?" The professor's voice was strained.

Warren took a deep breath, hoping he had made the right choice. "It's Gambit."

The com link shut down immediately. Warren might have smiled under different circumstances. Today, any mention of Gambit was enough to bring the Professor running. Not that that was surprising. After he'd run out, Gambit had just flat disappeared for nearly twenty-four hours. And although Bishop and Wolverine were fairly sure he hadn't left the grounds, Cerebro hadn't been able to locate him. As far as he knew, Warren was the first person to have seen the Cajun since then.

The door behind Warren slid aside and the Professor moved into the room. The hum of his hoverchair was louder than usual. Warren suspected that he had been pushing it rather hard to get down there so quickly. He spent a moment wondering what the chair's top speed might be, then pushed the thought aside. There were more important things to worry about.

Charles looked out into the danger room and breathed a sigh of relief. "At least he's all right." Giant gouts of flame rolled toward the danger room ceiling, briefly obscuring Charles' reflection in the darkened glass. The sound from the explosions was like miniature thunder, and the floor beneath them vibrated in time. The danger room was filled with assault robots that dove and maneuvered around the lone X-man. Gambit fairly glowed, and his power seemed almost to be dripping from him. He leapt and turned in the midst of the chaos, with the bright streaks of charged objects flying out from him at regular intervals. The huge explosions nearly buried him in flames, but he always emerged again, seemingly unaffected. Warren knew from experience that Gambit was pushing his powers hard, something he rarely did because he could be as deadly to friends as enemies that way.

"Take a look at the counter, Professor," Warren said.

Charles did as he was asked, and his expression went from relief to alarm. Warren nodded. "That's why I called you." The counter read just under six hours. "And he's got all of the safeties off. I didn't want to interfere, but he's got to be getting tired. If he makes a mistake, the room will kill him."

Charles closed his eyes, reaching out with his mind. Warren watched in concern. This could very well be enough to cause that mistake. Gambit didn't react well to telepathic contact at the best of times. But he was reassured when Charles opened his eyes again after only a moment.

"Leave the safeties off." He looked suddenly old and drawn. "Just be ready to shut the room down instantly."

Warren nodded. He already had the controls set for that. "Is he all right?" he asked after a moment.

Charles sighed. "Not really. But how would you react?"

Warren shrugged. "I don't know." He was silent for a moment as the things he had been turning over in his mind for the past hour coalesced. "He'll manage, Professor. Don't worry." Charles turned to him, a questioning look on his face. Warren smiled. "Remy survives everything."

"I just hope this isn't the straw that broke the camel's back." Charles went back to watching the war taking place in the danger room. It wasn't a war between man and robots, but between one man's heart and his will. The first wanted to die, the other refused to give up.

"You know, it's strange." Warren stared at the billowing flames. "I used to look down on Gambit. I always thought he was a loser-- " He didn't dare look at the Professor for fear of his reaction. "Like he could have done something with himself if he'd tried." The heat in his face had nothing to do with the fires below them. "Now, I don't think I could have done as much."

"Remy has proven himself to everyone, I think." Charles caught his breath as Gambit stumbled. Two of the targeting drones locked onto him in that instant. Warren's hand was halfway to the emergency kill button before Remy managed to dive out of the way of the laser beams that scored the metal floor where he'd just been.

Something changed in the Professor's face. He turned his hoverchair around. "I have to go," he said quietly. "Call me if anything changes." He didn't look at Warren as he left the room.

Warren stared after him in stunned silence. He didn't want to believe that Charles had just walked out on the one person who needed him more than any other. Frightened and worried, he turned his attention back to the danger room. At least Warren could make sure Remy didn't kill himself while he was watching.

Remy gritted his teeth and threw the charged scrap of metal in his hands. The release of power felt like acid being poured down his arm. He didn't care. In fact, he welcomed the pain because it helped drown out the other pain, the one he had no cure for. He cleared the sweat from his eyes with a quick shake of his head, and picked up some more scrap metal. The robots swarmed around him like bees, but his mutant power somehow kept them all separate. One turned for a strafing run, and Remy leapt out of the way. He landed neatly, but the impact made his ankles scream. He was pushing his body to its limits, he knew. Eventually, he wouldn't be able to move fast enough. He hadn't yet decided if that were a bad thing.

Most of the past twenty-four hours was a blur. For a while he had reverted to the most basic thing he knew-- hiding. He knew the places in the house where even Cerebro couldn't find him, and he was telepath enough to make himself invisible that way, too. But skulking through the shadows of the lower levels had left him with time to think, which was not good. The more he had considered his situation, the angrier he had become. Eventually, helpless rage drowned out rationality, leaving him with only the desperate desire to lash out and inflict some kind of pain on the agents that had brought this on him. Only the memory of Tanya's screams kept him from destroying the heavy supports and bringing the entire house down with everyone in it.

Instead, he had gone to the only place he could think of that might be safe. And so he spent his fury on assault drones, and let the reinforced adamantium alloy walls absorb every ounce of power he could throw at them.

Exhaustion made his muscles burn, slowed his reflexes. He stumbled, and the two drones that were currently engaged locked on. Instinct took over, dragging him out of the way before he could consciously command his body to move. Remy had worked hard to hone those survival instincts, and they'd kept him alive many times. Now he cursed them. It would be so much easier to let the drones hit him. At least it would end the pain.

Then he cursed himself for being such a coward. But another part of him answered "who cares?". He didn't really exist anyway. What would it matter what he did or how he died? In the end, no one would ever know the difference. After everything he'd done to survive, every struggle to keep going, to keep believing that he *could* build a life he could be proud of, and after finally, finally doing it-- it was all going to come to nothing.

Remy lost his balance, fell to his knees. The active drones had just finished a run and were beginning to turn back for another. His mind commanded his body to move, but there was no response. He simply didn't have the strength left to climb back to his feet. Time slowed. The drones completed their turn, began to accelerate. Remy knew he could kill the danger room program with a single command. He watched them approach and wondered what he should do.

Warren saw Remy fall, and his heart skipped a beat. His hand hovered over the kill button, but he hesitated. Remy could shut the program down with a spoken command from inside the danger room. He watched as the drones turned and began their firing run. His fingers flexed convulsively.

"Come *on*, Remy," he muttered softly. "Shut it down." He knew he only had a second more to react, but he didn't want to have to. If he did shut down the program, it would confirm something he didn't want to be true.

"Emergency kill!" It was hardly more than a whisper from the kneeling man, but the drones immediately veered away, the undamaged ones returning to their cubbies. The damaged ones settled to the floor like a flight of ungainly birds.

Warren breathed a sigh of relief and closed his eyes briefly. When he opened them again, Remy had fallen forward so that his fists rested on the floor and his hair hung down around his face. Sweat dripped from the tips, pooled on the floor. Warren took the oportunity to lock down the danger room so that Remy couldn't change his mind and start the program up again. He'd have to come up to the control booth to get the room running. Then he hit the intercom.

"Hey Scott, it's Warren."

"What is it, Warren?"

"Where are you?"

There was a hint of concern in Scott's voice. "At home. Why?"

"Is anyone else there?"

"Only Jean."

Warren nodded to himself. "Good enough." Briefly he described what had just happened, and concluded with, "I think we need to make sure someone keeps an eye on him, just in case."

Silence answered him, and then Scott said, "I think you're right. We'll take care of it."

"And Warren?" That was Jean.

"What?"

"Thanks."

Warren smiled at the warmth in her voice. "Sure, Jean. Since I'm already here, I'll just stick with him while you get things going."

She didn't say anything, but he could feel her smile. Warren shut down the connection and looked back down at Gambit, who hadn't yet moved. A rumble announced the opening of the danger room door. Warren craned his neck to see and was suitably shocked by who stood in the doorway.

Remy heard the door open, but didn't bother to turn his head. He was too tired to care. Still, that didn't affect his mutant power, and a small corner of his brain catalogued the motion of the person who approached. The walk was vaguely familiar, but he couldn't place it. The footsteps drew closer, stopped beside him. Whoever it was then knelt beside him, and Remy glimpsed a knee, clad in some kind of black armor. He recognized it after a moment, and was startled enough to turn his head. Charles watched him silently. Remy looked back at the floor, oddly touched. The Professor hadn't worn the telepathically controlled power armor after he'd gone to Avalon. It brought him too many bad memories, too much regret for what he'd been forced to do to Magneto there.

Remy felt Charles' hand light on the back of his neck. It was a comforting gesture, and Remy closed his eyes.

"How do you feel, Remy?" he asked.

Remy considered the question, and finally answered with the honest truth. "I want my life back," he whispered. Bitterness threatened to choke him.

He was startled to feel the Professor's arms slide around him, drawing him into a tight hug. Remy wanted to cry. "We'll find a way," Charles said softly.

"How?" The last spark of hope flared in Remy. If he could trust anyone, depend on anyone, it was this man.

"I don't know." The arms tightened, and he imagined a smile. "But this is the X-men, remember? Anything can happen here. Come on." Charles urged him to his feet. Remy complied, but leaned heavily on the supporting arms.

"Where are we going?"

"The jacuzzi."

This time Remy had to look at him. Charles was, indeed, smiling.

"Why?"

"Because if you don't spend some time soaking, by tomorrow I won't be the only one in the house who can't walk."

Remy could only stare at him. He didn't have the energy to resist as Charles led him out of the danger room.

 

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