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Better Late than Dead - REVIEW THIS STORY

Written by Evaryn
Last updated: 01/02/2007 02:01:11 AM

Chapter 1

Late. Feeling like the rabbit out of Alice in Wonderland Remy increased his speed. Late, late for a very important date! Is that how it goes? Never was very good at that kind of kid stuff, but there was no way in hell would he break his word to Rogue again.

"Not my fault." He muttered darkly, though at the same time wondering whose fault it could be. The waitress started it, waiting for him outside, straddling his bike. He explained to her that although she was indeed quite beautiful and yes he would love to take her home, his heart belonged to another. Maybe he didn't have to buy her cappuccinos, but the poor girl looked so forlorn, straightening her skirt and apologizing, and he had to admit that he did flirt with her. Just an honest mistake and one he would have appreciated immensely had he and Rogue not made amends.

Tonight would be something special... if he could get back to the school on time. Rogue could make the evening worse then an eternity in hell if she chose to do so. Already speeding well over the limit he accelerated even more.

In the distance a truck rounded the corner with its hi-beams still on. Squinting against the glare he averted his eyes to the side of the road and flashed his own beam. The truck driver immediately lowered his, but the damage was done and it took precious moments for his eyes to adjust back to normal. Too late he saw the child.

She stood on the curb looking straight in front of her and Remy knew; the way you always know when something horrible is about to happen, and there is nothing you can do to avoid it, that she was about to step out in front of him. Tires squealed and he fought to keep control of the bike as it slid on the dry pavement. The girl would have been fine but she took another step, this time directly into his path. The bike kept sliding at least another five feet and Remy braced for the impact he knew would come.

Nothing happened.

Time stood still, broken only by the steady beating of his heart. The bike stopped, he looked back. The child, he guessed her age at only about four or five, stood over top the black skid marks. She stood and stared at him expressionlessly. Breathing hard, Remy moved his bike to the shoulder, no cars in either direction at the moment, but who could tell how long that would last.

"You okay?" He stepped towards her. No crying at least, though perhaps he would feel better if she showed some kind of emotion. "Petite?" He took a step towards her and she took a step away. "Alright, don't worry. I won't come too close. Just want to get you off the road."

She walked slowly back to the gravel shoulder.

"Where do you live petite?" She pointed out into the field. Remy crouched down to be on the same level and now noticed how dirty she looked. Smudge marks on her face and mud in her hair. Her dress, probably once a Sunday best looked tattered and muddy. Her feet were bare. "Are you lost?" He asked. No answer. "Es-tu perdue?" Still the girl made no response, not that he honestly expected her to understand French. "Do you know where home is?"

She pointed again at the dark field. "Help me." She whispered and walked away.

He watched her disappear in the tall grass. He wanted to turn away and be content that he did what he could and got her off the road at least, but that just wasn't the way his mind worked anymore, so he followed, bidding his newly polished dress shoes a sad farewell. She waited until he caught up and then continued walking in the direction she pointed, looking over her shoulder now and then to make sure Remy didn't fall too far behind. Mud sucked his feet up to his ankles with each step making her quick pace difficult to keep up with.

It didn't take long until they entered a clearing; the girl paused for a moment; to her left stood a small burnt out bungalow with hollow windows. She turned away form the house and started towards the barn. It looked like a normal storage barn at first, but as they came closer he could see by the grey weathered wood it had not been used in years.

The girl climbed into some bushes along the side and disappeared. On hands and knees Remy peered through the leaves and branches. She crawled through a hole made by broken boards; big enough for the kid, but it would have to be a lot bigger for a man Remy's size. He stood up and brushed the dirt off his knees, he came this far, might as well see it to the end. A quick glance at the side door revealed no lock; it resisted at first with rusted hinges but grudgingly moved on the third try.

The interior of the barn lay in darkness, and Remy entered cautiously. To his left he saw the girl standing near a pile of old firewood. "What 'dis be about p'tit?"

In answer the child smiled unpleasantly and the door behind slammed shut. Angry now because he knew a trap when he sprung one, he stalked over to the girl and grabbed her arm. But missed. She looked up at him. He reached out again, this time he saw his hand pass through her.

"Shit." Stepping back he surveyed the room again. Being no stranger to weirdness he nonetheless felt a chill run down his spine. The girl could be a mutant, telekinesis to close the door and something like Kitty Pryde's power to turn insubstantial, but New Orleans born and raised he recognised this as something completely different. "So, what de 'ell are you?" He asked.

"Help me." Her lips did not move, and her voice seemed to come from everywhere at once. She reached up to him. "Help me."

Remy stepped away. The girl followed.

"Help me."

He ignored her. He tried pushing open the door, it held tight. This was just an old barn, he should be able to find a loose board or a hole or something to make a passable escape route, but like the door, everything seemed fused shut and resolute to keep him trapped inside.

She made no move to touch him again as he made his search and now he turned to her again. "What do you want?"

She began to change. Her flesh became pale and flaky, her eyes turned dead white. "I need more time. It won't hurt if you don't fight me." She reassured him and took a step forward; lips turned up in a grotesque parody of a smile showing rotted brown teeth. Her cold fingers brushed his arm as he yet again moved out of her reach.

Her fingers slipped through him like a shock and Remy stumbled backwards and fell against the wall of the barn. A chill spread through his body and he lost all feeling in the arm she came in contact with. Shivering violently he watched her come closer. "It is so much easier if you don't fight me." Remy reached out psychically towards his fellow X-men for help, though obviously too late as she knelt beside him and reached into his chest. Remy forced himself to stay conscious as waves of pain and cold traveled through his body.

The girl grew brighter as Remy lost strength. Her skin healed and eyes became clear and focused. Finally, she removed her hand from his chest and took a deep breath. "I knew you could help me." Her voice now sounded normal. She touched the back of his hand gently; now-warm human flesh. "Thank-you. Sleep now." And Remy closed his eyes as his world turned to darkness.

Birds sang in the distance and crickets chirped. Sunlight fell on the dirt floor illuminating beams of dust. Remy groaned and rolled over, feeling cold and damp. He brushed off the dirt, dust, and cobwebs that clung to his clothes and pushed open the barn door to walk outside into the sunlight. He remembered the night before like a dream; he felt fine other than feeling stiff and sore from sleeping on the ground. Unenthusiastically he re-entered the barn to look for evidence of the girl. Where his own didn't obscure them, he found little footprints starting from where he woke up and heading out the door; outside the trail disappeared but it didn't really matter; the girl was long gone.

On the road faded burnt rubber still marked the pavement but the bike itself was gone. "Merde." He muttered and felt his coat for his cell phone, he found it quick enough but the batteries were dead. Fifteen miles from home, he started walking. A few trucks passed by, a few cars, he held out his thumb but no one stopped. Cold, tired, and dirty, he figured he probably wouldn't stop for himself either and made a mental note to pick up any and all hitchhikers in the future. Finally a pick-up truck did stop and he jumped into the back. The guy eyed him suspiciously but said nothing, and Remy kept his head down and thoughts to himself, only knocking on the back window when the lane closest to the school came into view. Without waiting for a thank-you the farmer pulled away.

Remy started off down the lane and soon the gates were in sight. Locked. He keyed in his security number, nothing, he tried again, still nothing. He headed off to the side a ways and jumped over the fence not willing to play anymore. Rogue probably changed his code as revenge for missing their date, he should have never taught her how to hack into computers. No one outside, not unusual, and he thanked his luck that at least he could postpone the expected 'why I hate you and never want to see you again' speech from Rogue.

He made it to his room without seeing anyone, he felt, and unfortunately smelt, badly in need of a shower. He opened the door, and stopped. The bed remained along with boxes lined up against the far wall, but nothing else. For a moment he looked around thinking, maybe this isn't my room. But no, the stuff in the boxes was his stuff. He slammed the door. First his security code doesn't work and now this? Back down the hall he went, now in search of someone who could explain what the hell was going on.

As he passed a soft sound came from the common room, like crying. He peeked around the corner and his heart contracted seeing Rogue balled up on the couch clutching the pillow with tears streaming down her face. He entered the room slowly, intent on getting some kind of explanation, felling confused but no longer quite as angry.

He expected her to look at him yell, maybe hit him (hopefully not too hard), and stomp out. Instead she looked up with complete and utter shock and stared at him. Remy looked out into the hall, just in case something had come up from behind, and then finding nothing there looked down at himself. Sure he didn't look great, but why the shock?

She jumped up and flew at him faster then he'd seen anything move before and braced himself for the blow to come. Instead he found himself wrapped in her arms with her now sobbing uncontrollably on his shoulder.

"Did something happen?" His own predicament momentarily forgotten his mind raced with possibilities. He could only think there might have been an accident. Worried he pushed her back a bit. "Rogue, what happened?"

She studied his face, ran her hand along the sleeve of his shirt and then touched his face with her gloved fingers. "I love you." She whispered.

Remy stepped back, now certain that something was seriously amiss. Like maybe she went insane? "Where is everyone?"

Rogue swallowed hard. "You died."

Not an answer to his question, not even an answer that made any kind of sense. "No." He said simply.

"You've been missing for two weeks, we had a memorial service two days ago."

He shivered and took a shaky breath. "I've only been gone one night."

Rogue touched his arm. "Jean had a vision. We found your bike, but there was nothing..." She giggled, feeling giddy at seeing Remy standing in front of her alive and well. "Xavier even contacted Shi'ar to check if there's been any alien activity around. Where have you been?"

Feeling decidedly weird, Remy answered with a shrug. "You said you have my Harley?"

Rogue nodded. "In the garage."

"Where are the others?"

"I don't know, not on a mission I don't think, just out."

Awkwardly Remy picked up the closest phone and dialled Jean's cell phone number. "Jean speaking." Her voice sounded rough and tired.

For a moment he didn't know what to say and no witty comment came to mind. He should have considered that before dialling. Too late he answered with an unoriginal, "Hey Jean. Comment ça va?"

Silence on the other end and he felt an urgent probe into his thoughts. "It is you." He heard her say softly. "How?"

"I don't know. Rogue told me I've been missing."

"Are you okay?"

"Fine."

"Stay where you are and don't move. Is Rogue there with you?" He handed the phone to Rogue who received strict instructions not to let him out of her sight.

Hank appeared at the door, summoned by Rogue while Remy spoke to Jean on the phone.

Hank hovered in the hall and stared, Remy sighed. "Relax, I'm not dead."

Never having been the superstitious type, Hank stepped closer. "Then why does your appearance suggest a recent accent from the grave?"

Gambit picked some of the crusted mud on his pants and flicked it to the floor. "Cause someone cleared out my room and I haven't had a chance to shower." He stood up and Hank wrinkled his nose.

"I am of course enthusiastic by your timely restitution, but my olfactory sense opposes my jubilation. May I suggest..."

"You do kind of smell." Rogue agreed apologetically.

"Find my clothes and I'll take a shower."

"That indeed may prove problematic. On the obviously hasty assumption of your untimely demise your attire has been bestowed upon a worthy aid organization." Hank chewed his lip for a moment.

"Just give me something to change into." And so half an hour later he entered Hank's lab wearing Rogue's flowered terry cloth robe. The clothes he'd been wearing were garbage and everything else gone. Unless he wanted to wander around the school in nothing but a trench coat like a mad flasher, the robe would have to suffice.

"Scott is returning with the others, you are approximately the same size and height." Hank added helpfully. Remy snorted a reply.

Hank stifled a laugh and forced himself to turn serious. It really was a delight to have the Cajun alive and well, and he had a barrage of tests lined up to torment him with. Remy for his part tolerated it stoically.

"You are in impeccable physical condition and there is nothing to indicate anything extraordinary transpired at all."

The others arrived shortly after and they all huddled within the med lab. Xavier and everyone else sat staring at Gambit as though he may disappear any moment, or grow horns.

"I have run the necessary tests, this is indeed Gambit." Hank assured the group. No one really knew what to say other then ask over and over again what happened.

Jean seemed most sympathetic, she closed her eyes for a moment remembering her vision. "It was like a cold physical shock and then darkness." She knelt beside his chair and took his hand. "I felt you die Remy, I was with you and I felt your heart slow down and stop beating."

"Why couldn't we find him though?" Rogue asked suspiciously.

"Telepaths can only sense living minds. Even Cerebro can't find what's dead." Xavier said finally, and that marked an end to the questions.

Life slowly returned to normal. Most of the X-men held their own opinion about what happened, and since no one wanted to believe Gambit actually died for any amount of time (especially Gambit), they generally just summed it up as random weirdness and tried to forget about it.

For that reason he did not bother to mention to anyone that while dragged grocery shopping with Jean, (Scott just got plain moody when forced to do something he didn't like, and whenever she took Bobby or Hank along they always returned with an extra cart full of chips and snacks), he saw something disturbing on the cover of the National Inquiry. He liked to read the covers of the magazines like "Woman in Missouri predicts end of world through holy image on apple" and that sort of thing. He didn't believe what he read of coarse, but somehow it made his own life with the X-men seem a little less strange.

Jean looked at him with worry; he looked suddenly pale. "Are you alright?"

"Fine." He answered and tore his eyes away from the magazine, hoping she hadn't noticed the source of his discomfort. The cashier rang their purchases through, Remy packed the grocer bags and carried them to the truck, and they drove home. After helping her put all the food away he took his Harley and headed back to the store.

He bought the magazine. On the cover was a picture of a happy little girl and two equally happy seniors. The headline read;

Ten Years After 5-Year-Old Child Presumed Dead In Fatal House Fire

Child Reunited With Parents - Still 5 Years old.

In the parking lot Remy read the inside column. It didn't say much else; the parents had presumed the child dead, abandoned the farm and moved to New York. Now, ten years later, the same girl they thought lost, inexplicably appeared in their front yard. Blood and DNA tests confirm that it's the same girl, and medical doctors pronounced her to be in perfect health.

He recognised the girl on the cover as one and the same he met on the road. Remy tore out the article and threw the rest into a garbage bin. He thought about going to New York to see it for himself, but thought better of it after a few minutes.

By the time he arrived back home he mostly convinced himself that the likeliness was a coincidence, and nothing in those papers were real anyhow. The photographer probably just had his daughter and grandparents pose for the photo. He held onto the article though, just in case.

 

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