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16. Eyes of a Cajun

Summary: Well, we all know who this chapter is about. Its all about him. Different times, different eyes, but all Remy.
The first time,

“Merde.” His eyes wide as saucers, the lanky teenager stared at empty space, or rather at the vision rising up to fill that space. Floating midair, long lush snow colored hair spread out around and behind her, almost like an aura, she was the most commandingly angelic thing he had ever set his sight on.

“Catch. Thief.” The redhead had called out after him, hoping that someone would help her…but no avail, just as he had known. After all, he had planned this, following the trio for the last four blocks, even waiting outside as they went inside one of those fancy coffee shops that had opened here recently.

He had made his move, timing it perfectly, at a place where even a telekinetic-telepath like Jean wasn’t able to stop him…let alone someone like Scott. Then again, it wasn’t like the teen thief knew that these three were mutants. Otherwise, he would have landed to where he was now, with this heavenly beauty in obstructing his way, the thumps of her companions sounding up the stairwell.

“You should give up.” She spoke to him, her words, spoken with a voice that was smooth as silk and totally non threatening, sounded more as a self evident truth than a warning.

“I should?” A few years down the line his own words would come out in a not so subtle teasing manner, one that would have turned her words back on her. Both hers and anyone else’s too. But not now. Now it sounded as a question, one filled with surprise. “An’ if Remy don’?” He threw back, using his habit to speak of himself in the third person.

“We don’t want to hurt you.” She included both herself and her friends, and as if almost as an afterthought including, “or hand you over to the authorities.”

“Good. Dat make it two of us who tink dat way.”

--

Thump Thump Thump

“Ororo?”

“Its alright Scott,” she answered without breaking her gaze. “It is alright, isn’t it…” the trailing silence was for him to introduce himself.
“Gambit.” he moved so that he was facing both of them, avoiding telling his real name…to Scott, but to not to her. For her, “Remy…” practically jumped out of his skin. “Remy Lebeau.” He bit on the inside of his cheek lips before he babbled his age, favorite color and movie too. ‘Not cool homme. Not cool et all.”
“Gambit? What sort of a name is that?” Scott arched an eyebrow behind his bulky visor. “And where is the wallet you stole?”

“Wallet? What wallet?”
“The one you stole from our friend.”
“Stole? Gambit don’ steal anyting.” He lifted his arms to his side daring the older teen to come closer. But after the last lunge, the one where he had his watch charged, the electronic ‘inorganic’ gadget exploding, not with a force enough to cause him actual harm but enough to stun him…and cause him to be wary.

All this time, he spoke without looking at her. It was as if, he did not…could not lie to her face, facing the life that shone through her

“Scott.” Jean too came up the stairs, panting heavily. Still not fully trained, her telekinesis had given up sometime before, causing her to hoof it up the last three floors.
“Jean, stay back.” Scott warned her, instantly moving to come in between her and this Gambit.

“I’ll check it.” She came forth, her feet touching concrete a few feet from him. A few steps and as if led by magic, she reached forward, her slender hand slipping in through his worn overcoat, deftly reaching in and pulling the wallet from the secret pocket sewn into its side, just below his left armpit.

Surprised at how easily she had known it, he did…he said the only thing he could. “How?”

In return, she smiled an enigmatic smile, the one that totally floored him.

“You aren’t the only ones with quick eyes, nimble fingers and skills.”

That was how he first met them…met her.

And for the first time in his life, realized how it felt to have your heart thump so loud that you could actually hear its beat.

Years later he would meet another, one that would complete him, loving him as much as he would love her. But now, this date….this woman, would forever hold a special place in a thief’s heart.

Almost as if she had stolen it from under him.

---

Much later, years down the line,

“You gonna throw that card or are ya just going to sit there?”

The muffled growl sounded out into the night, serving only to fuel his rage even more.

“Remy still deciding…” he let it trail. “Where to hit you…to make it hurt da most.”
“Hn. Sorry Cajun.” It was as if his threat had just been disregarded. “Yer got beat.”

‘Beat?’ His eyes widened, thinking about who had beaten him to the punch. From what he knew, both Rogue and Jean were keeping their distance, not wanting to get involved in what they thought and what was essentially a matter of stubbornness…on both sides. Xavier wouldn’t step in for the same reasons, and so wouldn’t Scott, although surprisingly, this time around, he was on Logan’s side….a very rare occurrence. That left only one person and even Remy knew that she was on Logan’ side…totally. And that person was one of the newest residents of the mansion, the preteen girl that Logan had saved and brought home to Xavier’s. Jubilee. As for her whereabouts, her slim form was clearly lined out under the bedsheets, her arms firmly wrapped around one of the almost half dozen throw pillows she liked to surround herself with. Her being here wasn’t odd, after all it was essentially her room now. It was Logan who was in the wrong place or rather not in the right one.

“Got beat?” He inquired, not able to stop himself from asking. “By who?”

Instead of answering, the other man just lifted a tired hand towards the weeping sky, the limb listlessly falling to his side.

“Nothin’…” Even though Remy was there, for Logan it might as well as have been the solitary, all enveloping darkness. “No one can come even close to that.” Was all he said, his voice carrying no anger, no malice, nothing but utter and total pain.

“Like you didn’ hurt ‘er.” Remy shot back, his earlier anger, the one pushed back at seeing his condition, rising again. “You not only left ‘er, you also took away ‘er babe.”

“I didn’t take her anywhere.” The growl rose, but only for a second, trailing away for the benefit of the sleeping infant a few feet away. “If she wants to see her, she here…an’ so am I.” The last words were barely above a whisper.

Had it been any other time, Remy would have sworn that Logan was drunk…all because of the way he was talking. But that was at a time BBK, Before Baby Kendall. That was what Rogue, Kitty and the others had termed it as. Logan had changed and the changes did not come only after Kendall’s birth but right from the moment that Ororo had first told him about her pregnancy. Almost overnight the Wolverine underwent a transitions. Although it wasn’t complete cold turkey, he did slash his smoking inside the mansion, and even cut down his drinking binges to only for the weekends and that too only when Ororo was not with him (but only when she was at the mansion and not anywhere else). More than a little shocked at first, by the time Kendall came, both Ororo and the others became used to it.


Things were going along swingingly, until this morning. Out in the city on some personal errand, Remy had rushed home at the sudden downturn in the clear spring sky. There was only one person who could affect the weather like this and only a handful of things that could make her let go like this, none of them good. Hoping that no one was hurt or worse, Remy had not even in his wildest dreams thought about this.

He had left her, moved out of their suite…and taken Kendall along with him.

--

“She’s hurtin’.”
“….”
“You heard what I said.”
“Let her.”

“You don’ care?”
“…” Silence again. “Tryin’ not to.”

“What about the babe?”
“What about her?’
“Don’ she need her mamma. An’ her mamma her?”
“Both of ‘em are here. I ain’t stoppin’ no one.”

“Not stoppin’ no one.” Remy flared up, barely managing to contain his pitch. “You sure have a funny way of showin’ it.”
“…”

“What was so wrong that you had to do this?”
“…”

This wasn’t working. It was bad enough that Stormy wasn’t telling him anything, now he was getting the same silent treatment from Wolverine.

“What happen?” He decided to play dirty. “Got tired for playing home? What next? Tinkin’ of leavin’?”
“It ain’t none of yer business.” Not the answer he wanted, but at least it was a start.
“If it affect Stormy an’ her babe then Remy make it his business.”
“No one asked you to. It ain’t your right.” The second half of this answer was odd, odd because no where in his questions or comments did Remy bring in the question of a ‘right’.

“You gonna tell Remy what his right is when it comes to Stormy?”
“…” Once again there was silence, this silence was more longer. “No. It ain’t my right either….no right at all.”

And just like that Remy’s juggernaut of an attack skidded to a stop.

“What do you mean no right at all? Dat woman, da mother of your child, she not only loves you, she would do anyting for you and for the babe.”
“Anythin’,’ Logan’s repetition dripped with sarcasm. “Anythin’. Except the one thing that I asked…begged her too. Even got on my knee fer it.” He chuckled, its sound hollow and nails on slate harsh.

Remy did not need to ask ‘what’. He knew what that one thing was.

“Why does it matter homme? Da two of you already have love, a baby, a home. Everyting that make a family…”
“Except a marriage.”

“Why does it matter so much?”
“It matters to me.”
“Why?”
“Because…”
“Because?”
“Because…it makes it legal. Its on paper.”

“Legal!” Was this really what this whole thing was about. “So den what? You need a paper to tell you dat you and her…”
“It gives me something to show.” Logan snapped again.

“…” ‘Huh.’ “WHAT!! Whom do you want to show it to. Who’s askin’ fo’ it?”
“No one.”
“Then why.”

Silence stretched once again the only sound being the ticking of the wall clock on the far side of the room.
“I don’t have anything Cajun.” Finally he spoke. “No real birth certificate. No real license. No nothing. I need…nah, I want this.”

Still not quite getting it, Remy tried again. “You want Stormy to marry you so dat you will have a piece of paper and not because she loves you.”
“I KNOW that she loves me dammit.” Logan nearly pushed himself off the ground that he had been seated on. “It ain’t a question of that. It…its just something….”

“What?”
“…”
“What were you sayin’ homme?”
“Nothin’. Nothing at all. You better go kid.” The Wolverine’s internals walls shot up, and with his empathy all Remy got was a big fat nothing. All recent emotions replaced by a blank emptiness.

Remy knew Logan well enough to know that the emotions hadn’t gone away, just locked away inside the Wolverine.

Yet he stayed, starring at him, hoping for some sort of a movement, some sort of a give. Finally, giving up after almost half an hour, he started to slip away, stopping at the grunt of his name.

“Remy.”

“What?” He asked without turning his back.

“I…Ororo, she….nothin’. Just go.”

---

Still later,

“You ready?” The door swung open and the dashingly dressed Bobby Drake and Piotr Rasputin stepped into the room, joining the three men already present there.
“Uh-huh.” The man of hour, the groom nodded, standing still as large blue furred hands fixed his coat.

“Hey. No sweat man.” Bobby piped up. “You are just getting married. Its not like its you are going to die.”

WHACK!!

“Hey! Why’d you do that for?” The youngster exclaimed, rubbing the back of his neck where he had just been struck.
“For making him even more nervous.” Ever the ‘in control’ one, Scott Summers admonished him.
“Nervous? What? Him? Ha ha ha….” Bobby started to laugh, stopping as he looked at the groom and realized that maybe Scott had spoken the truth. “Its just pre-marital jitters man. Its not like you are going to run away.”

“That much you can be sure of.” Henry commented from a few feet away, his head tilted as he fixed his own bow for the umpteenth time. “Not with the Sword of Dionysus swinging over him.”
“Sword of who-sus? Echoed Bobby.
“What Hank meant was that if our groom here tries to run away,” Scott stepped in. “He won’t even make it to the end of the red carpet.”

“Wha-Oh,” bright blue eyes lit up at finally catching onto the joke. “That. Yeah, but it sure will make for a good show….for us that is.”

“Not funny Ice-pick,” the groom growled. “Not funny at all.”


A knock from the other side of the door negated any further comeback from either side. The bride was ready.

--

La la lala, la la lala….

The traditional ‘here comes the bride’ music started to play, all present turning to gaze at the breathtaking sight of the bride stepping into view, a mixture of collective giggles and chuckles rising the very next instant, not because of the blushing bride…but because of the man walking beside her and at the way he had a hand, the free one, draped over his chest, three shiny, half out, razor sharp claws catching and shining in the mid morning sun.

Standing at the end of the way, the smartly dressed groom gulped, his ears twitching at the comment passed between his groom’s men and indigo skinned priest.

“Didn’t think he’d actually do it.” Scott piped up.
“Vel, you know Logan. He did promise Rogue a proper southern wedding.” Kurt whispered, his accented voice full of humor

“Yeah, I know what you mean. But claws?” Bobby exclaimed from besides Peter. “Talk about a modern mutant twist on tradition. ”
“Well, this is as close as we can get to a ‘Shot-Gun Wedding’,” even Henry couldn’t contain himself. “That is without an actual shotgun. Wouldn't you agree...Remy?”

----

Now,

Sitting sideways at the edge of the king sized bed, his head hanging low, his hands barely able to support it, Remy Lebeau was trying his best to come to terms with what he had just been told, what had happened in the two and half since he had been away from the mansion.

“Remy.” A silk soft whisper tore through the blank curtain that had fallen over and around him.

Opening his mouth, he tried once, twice, giving up and closing it shut after the third failure. It was as if the very air had escaped his lungs, his throat too choked to even pull in fresh oxygen.

“Remy.” She called again, her own breath catching when he lifted and turned his head to her, his smoldering coal eyes showing her something that she had never seen in them ever before…tears.

This time when he parted his lips, he managed to get out two words, but not before a hitch. “H-How-w….How long?”

“I-I…” it was her turn to hesitate. She hadn’t hesitated once in the last half hour, not once as she told him what she had done…and why she had done it, only breaking that secret when he grabbed her hand and thumped it against his chest, making her take an oath to his heart. “Henry says that it is difficult to say right now and that we…”

“How long Ororo?” He near about snapped at her, his use of her real name causing her to stop short. “How long?”

A sigh of defeat and her she broke her final secret to him, the secret of how long before it all ended….for her.

“Eight months…maximum a year.”

Note: I almost don’t want to write this story anymore. When I started it, it wasn’t meant to go this way, or this far. Don’t know where to go from here…especially after taking this long to get this chapter done.

My second update for the day, (X-ed Ch. 18) is much happier one.

Please Review!!





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