Chapter Fifteen: Bayou Battle
Yeah, I’d fight for you
I’d lie for you
Walk the wire for you
Yeah, I’d die for you
~Bryan Adams
Logan speaks:
Lets just say that I definitely wasn’t prepared to see Ororo turn into someone else. Well, thinkin’ bout it, she wasn’t really someone else. Just a different side of her that no one in New York ever saw. It was amazin’. She was cool, confident, and just this side of fuckin’ terrifyin’ at the thought someone might hurt Gumbo.
I guess it reminded me a lot of myself. If Rogue’d been mutie-napped, I woulda torn the world apart stone by stone to get her back. When Storm dropped us on the grounds of this huge mansion called “The Estate”, she looked ready to kill someone. A buncha Thieves jumped out, obviously security types.
Inside of a minute, ‘Ro had ‘em all on the ground, whimperin’. She was pissed. Went toward the mansion, wind blowin’ behind her, arms out, leather duster whippin’ round like a cape. Blew out every window in the first floor. Reminded me a little of Liberty Island. No one was brave enough to stop her after that.
It occurred to me after the windows shattered that she was keepin’ a tight lid on her anger, knowin’ it wouldn’t help her find Gambit. But she wasn’t wastin’ time either. There wasn’t a force on the earth that coulda stopped her. It was right around then that I realized how much respect I had for that woman. Still do, come to that.
Well, we got inside, windows all broke. Not that it was a bad thing, hot as it was in New Orleans. ‘Ro demanded to see ‘Papa Jean’ an’ they took us right in. I’m still kinda curious, even after all these years, at what she woulda done if they even tried to give her the runaround.
Coulda been interestin’.
~**~
Logan kept Rogue between himself and Storm as they moved into the mansion. Several dozen men and women came out of various rooms, each halting in the hallway, staring at Ororo. Some of them smiled, others glared, still another cowered in fear.
The mansion was tasteful, reminding him somewhat of Xavier’s. Thick carpeting covered the floors. Huge oil paintings and antiques covered the walls and dotted the corridors. Someone loved this place. Even as their boots crunched the broken glass left over from Ororo’s temper, he could see it was a home, not just a headquarters.
Keeping his eyes open for signs of danger, he followed Ororo silently, adjusting his Stetson so it covered his eyes in shadow. He was curious about these people, what brought them together besides a love of thieving. Several of them were young, reminding him of the students back in New York. It occurred to Logan that perhaps there was something in common between this Papa Jean and their Professor X.
Shoving his thoughts aside, he noted that two enormous French doors at the end of the long hall opened as they approached. A tall, thin, older man pushed both doors open, standing expectantly in the doorway.
“Rory…”
“Papa Jean,” his love replied, moving immediately to the taller man and wrapping him in a warm embrace.
Logan halted, touching Marie’s hand to slow her movements. From the shared embrace, it looked as though Ororo cared deeply for this man. He wanted to give them a moment to reunite. Rogue, seemingly understanding this, moved to stand beside Logan.
They watched as Papa Jean and Ororo hugged, speaking in whispered French. Logan’s heart clenched at the look on the man’s face, which was visible with Ororo’s hair pulled from her shoulders.
He looked as though someone had yanked his heart out and showed it to him. Thinking on it, Logan realized that Jean-Luc LeBeau obviously loved Gambit. He thought, for a moment, how it would feel if someone took off with his Prita. The mere thought hurt so much, it was almost physical.
A wave of sympathy washed over him, squashed quickly. Feeling badly about the situation wouldn’t rectify it. He would help Rogue, Storm, and Jean in any way he could. Then, he was going to rush home and scoop that baby girl into his arms.
“Logan, Marie.”
At Ororo’s soft call, the waiting mutants moved forward. Ororo turned toward them, brushing at the single tear she’d allowed to escape her eyes.
“I see that you were a bit testy upon arriving,” Papa Jean said with a bit of humor in his voice as he gestured to the glass on the floor.
“They have Remy,” was all the explanation she gave.
“I know, petite.”
Logan reached the duo first, extending his hand. Papa Jean accepted the gesture. He was a strong man, Logan knew from his forceful handshake. He was open, kind, but dangerous when trifled with. These were the hands of a man who worked to get where he was, and kept right on working to keep it. In the man’s blue eyes, Logan saw compassion and barely-restrained rage.
Oh, he liked this guy already.
“This is Logan,” Ororo was saying. “My fiancé. Logan, this is Papa Jean, my beloved mentor and friend.”
“Nice to meet you, Logan,” Jean-Luc said warmly. “You tamed my girl.”
“I wouldn’t ever tame her, bub,” Logan said with a toothy smile. “She’s too much fun untamed.”
This caused Jean-Luc to laugh heartily. He reached up and slapped Logan’s shoulder in a masculine fashion. “Oh, my Rory, he’s a keeper.”
“I quite thought so,” Ororo replied, giving Logan a wink.
“Oh, oh, look at this beauty before me,” Papa Jean released Logan, turning to Marie.
“Hi,” Marie said cautiously. “I’m Rogue…Marie.”
“Oh yes,” Papa Jean said, putting an arm around her slim shoulders. Logan noted how he carefully avoided touching her skin. “Remy has told me so much about you. He is much enamored with you.”
Logan watched the girl blush prettily as Papa Jean beckoned them into the room. He led Marie himself, keeping her close to him. Ororo glanced back at the others and waved to a few of them. Most of the Thieves that had smiled at her arrival waved back. Logan knew he would have to allow her some time to say hello after they recovered Gambit.
The parlor was just as beautiful as the rest of the mansion. Plush carpets, rich upholstery, paintings and even a grand piano decorated the room. Everything was colored a rich green of silken black. It was decadent and rich, but still tasteful.
Marie sat on a small loveseat beside Jean, letting the tactile man hold her hand in a fatherly fashion. Logan took a seat in the armchair, wanting to groan as it sucked him in, making him instantly comfortable.
Ororo perched on the arm of his chair, shrugging out of her duster.
“Papa?”
“Yes, always to business,” he glanced at Logan, humor in his eyes. “I see she has not changed overmuch.”
“Nope,” Logan said somewhat proudly. “She’s still a pain in the ass.”
“Someone wishes to sleep alone,” Ororo cut in tartly.
“Oh, ma cherie,” Jean-Luc said, shaking his head and looking to Rogue. “She was born without her funny bone.”
Rogue seemed to try to bite back her amused smile and tiny giggle, but it wasn’t that effective. Ororo crossed her arms and rolled her eyes.
“Jean-Luc!”
“Fine, fine,” the older man said crossly. “I was contracted by an unnamed source to steal a valuable box.”
“Tell me the thief did not look inside!” Ororo nearly shrieked.
“Of course not!” Jean replied, standing quickly. “My standards have not fallen.”
“Yes, I know,” said the white-haired woman. “What happened?”
“Assassins seemed to decide something worth so much should be theirs,” the elder man said sadly. “They ambushed the drop site and murdered two of my thieves.”
“Was Remy there?”
“Of course,” the man nodded sadly. “He was wary about the drop. He managed to save the other thief and retrieve the merchandise.”
Ororo sighed, making Logan look up at her, and push his Stetson back a little. She was pinching the bridge of her nose, her lovely mouth drawn in a tight line.
“An Assassin recognized him,” Jean-Luc went on. “They called just yesterday, saying they would kill my son if I did not give them the box. But, if I do turn it over…”
“Your life is forfeit, your men are honor-bound to kill you.”
Startled, Logan sat up fully, glancing at an equally shocked Rogue. “What kinda fucked up world is this?”
“A thief’s,” Storm said sadly, looking to Jean-Luc.
“Rory, I cannot let my son die,” he said, emotion choking his voice. Another swell of sympathy came over Logan.
“Papa Jean, if you die, all the good you have done for the Guild goes with you. No one is prepared to carry on your work.”
“Ah’m confused on that one, ‘Roro,” Rogue piped up.
Ororo turned to her friends, her gaze lingering when it met Logan’s. He didn’t even have to be a telepath to know what her plan was. His gut clenched unpleasantly while she turned to explain a few things to Marie.
His earlier assessment was right. Papa Jean took in homeless and starving kids, taught them how to defend themselves, fed them, and kept them out of trouble. It was how he’d taken in Gambit and Storm, keeping them both close. He loved each of his Thieves as Xavier loved his X-Men and students.
Respect grew inside him for this man and Logan vowed to follow the plan he knew was forming in Ororo’s mind. They would get Gumbo back and protect Papa Jean. Just like the Professor would want them to.
“What are you thinking?” Jean-Luc asked, looking from Logan to Storm.
“Think it’ll work, darlin’?” Logan questioned his love. “Dangerous as hell.”
She nodded. “I know, but I have done this before.”
“Rory,” Papa Jean cut in. “If you ambush the Assassins…”
“They will kill Rogue and I and likely injure my Wolverine,” she nodded. “But they will not expect the Thieves to betray them at the drop site.”
“Yeah,” Logan nodded. “Ya go like you’re turnin’ on your own men. Let Storm, Rogue, an’ me hit them from the side.”
“We don’t have to kill ‘em,” Rogue said quickly, catching on. “We come out with Remy an’ the box. Makes the Assassins think twice bout messin’ with the Thieves.”
“And you regain your status as a force to be reckoned with,” Storm finished.
Logan watched as Papa Jean turned from the three of them, obviously thinking over their plan. The man looked as though a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He wondered how much Jean-Luc had depended on Storm before she’d regained her memory. A bit of guilt filtered into Logan, thinking how much her leaving the Bayou had likely hurt her friend.
What had he done when Ororo took off for India because of him?
Ororo’s hand squeezed his shoulder and he looked up at her. She was smiling slightly, giving him a look that plainly said to stop playing pity party.
“Rory,” Papa Jean said a moment later. “Go to the armory. Many of the Assassins still do not know you are a mutant. The drop is at midnight.”
“Why is it always midnight?” Rogue wondered aloud, then startled. “Wait…armory?!”
“Yes, mon chou,” Storm said firmly, grabbing her duster. “We will need body armor as well, Papa.”
“Of course,” he nodded. “Ask Amy to find you Kevlar, though we may have a problem with Logan.”
“I don’t need it,” Wolverine said with a feral smile.
“He has a very fast healing factor,” Rogue said, standing when Ororo did. “Ah’ve never used a gun though.”
“I will show you,” Ororo said, catching Logan’s slightly speculative look. “What?”
“Guns, darlin’?”
“Remind me to take you hunting when we get home.”
“Oh, yeah.”
~**~
“Grenades?”
“Yes, thank you, dear,” Ororo grinned, clipping two of the hand grenades onto the front of her leather pants.
“Rogue, here take these,” Logan handed the girl a pair of .9-milimeter handguns.
“Same kind Ah used earlier?” the petite girl questioned, holstering the guns quickly.
“Yeah,” he nodded. “You’ve got two spare clips, but if it turns bad, drop ‘em an’ use your powers.”
“If you get out of my eye line, I will be forced to hurt you,” Storm chimed in as she loaded the sawed-off shotgun.
He took a moment as he snapped the spare clips into Rogue’s belt to look at his fiancée. She was still decked out in her leather, which made his mind want to wander. Inside her duster were the grenades he’d handed her, two semi-automatic handguns and a rifle strapped to her back.
Though he should have been worried, all he could think was that she looked incredibly sexy, dangerous, a worthy mate. It would be interesting to see her at work as a former Thief.
His head tilted to the side as she hooked the shotgun onto the little leather loop inside her coat. Two long-bladed knives found their way into her boots, which really seemed insanely sexy.
“Logan?”
Snapping back from his musing, he looked into the amused hazel eyes of Rogue.
“Yeah?”
“Ya broke mah belt,” she said through soft giggles.
Clearing his throat, he repaired the small tear he’d made in her gun belt and announced her ready to go. Rogue looked like some sort of Amazon with her guns and a bow staff strapped to her back. The kid was pretty good with the thing, as she’d demonstrated how Gumbo’d taught her how to use it.
They were waiting on a small road outside of New Orleans. It was still a few minutes until midnight and they were waiting for the signal from Papa Jean. Logan wasn’t worried about the drop. They were mutants and would reveal that if necessary.
He wouldn’t admit it under torture, but he was concerned with recovering Gambit. The kid made Rogue happy, as he could see easily by her grim determination and fiery anger that someone was hurting him.
Decked out with weaponry, both girls waited as Logan strapped a pair of handguns to his hips, tucking an enormous knife into his belt. Ororo clipped a couple of grenades onto his belt, fire in her eyes telling him something about this got her juices flowing.
They’d have to pay another visit to the Assassins someday soon. He had the sneaky suspicion that he was in for an energetic night when they were done. That look in her blue eyes said she was ready to devour him on the spot.
He licked his lips, leaning down to kiss her quickly. This was definitely a side of his future wife that he had not expected.
“Ya look hot,” he whispered to her as she tugged on his belt to secure his weaponry.
“As do you.”
Before he could reply, his sharp hearing caught the sound of a low wolf-whistle, coupled by an oncoming car engine.
“Three cars,” Logan reported to Storm. “At least a dozen men, probably more. Shit!”
“What?” Rogue and Ororo demanded in unison.
He heard another blow land, the strangled cursing that followed achingly familiar. Judging from the sound of the Cajun’s taunting, he’d been hurt. Badly. Rage flooded Logan’s veins and for a moment, all he saw was red. He wanted to rush into the clearing and kill every one of them.
“Rashness will not protect Papa Jean,” he heard Ororo’s soothing voice and crashed back to reality. “Be calm, Logan. How bad is it?”
“Remy’s hurt?” Rogue whispered hotly, adjusting the Kevlar vest under her top. “Ah’ll kill those bastards!”
“What am I going to do with you two?” Storm sighed, shaking her head.
“He’s been hit, more than once,” Logan grunted, taking hold of the animal within. “But he’s still mouthin’ off. Atta boy.”
Storm smiled, kissing Logan’s cheek. “Good. Then he is not broken. Come.”
“Storm’s gonna take point,” Wolverine said quickly, tapping Storm’s chest to ensure she had her armor on. “She’ll fire the first shot. Rogue, on her left flank, I’m on the right. Keep close. The other Thieves will stay out of the way. Don’t wanna be shootin’ our own men.”
“Right,” Ororo turned, taking up her shotgun again as Logan took the other two from the hood of the Jeep they’d driven.
“If it gets hairy,” he continued to Rogue. “Grab Gumbo an’ Jean-Luc, get ‘im back to the estate. Storm and I’ll make sure the others get out ok.”
“All right,” Rogue nodded, though he could see she hated this backup plan. “Ya can count on me.”
Logan smiled, chucking her gently under the chin. “I know, kiddo. Always can.”
“Let’s move,” Storm called over her shoulder, moving into the thick brush.
Wolverine and Rogue soon followed, heading into the swamp to retrieve their friend.
~**~
The clearing was filled with people. Thieves in black coats and the Assassins in what looked like a deep green. Storm, Wolverine, and Rogue crouched in the brush, waiting for the right moment.
Six Jeeps crowded the clearing, three facing three. Papa Jean was standing in front of his men, looking properly ashamed of himself. The other man Logan didn’t recognize, but his scent said a lot.
Blood and hatred, a man that lived for killing. Snorting the scent from his nose, Wolverine growled lowly. He didn’t like that one. Storm shot him a look that said to be quiet. She was a thief, everything was done quietly, precision-perfect.
They had spotted Gambit in the back of a Jeep, but he was soon yanked down. His hands were bound, his face swollen and bloody. The Assassins kicked him in the back of the knee, bringing him sharply to the ground. That caused both of the women beside Logan to growl themselves.
Gambit was pleading with his father to just leave him, that it wasn’t worth it. Logan admitted to himself that the kid had something. He was strong. About twenty-four hours in an enemy camp with beating and starvation but he wasn’t broken. He was still thinking of Rogue and Logan knew it.
Storm shifted beside him, bringing her shotgun up as Jean’s men brought the box forward. Their plan was to attack the moment the box touched the Assassin’s hands. Logan pulled his pair of shotguns from his sides, pointing them toward the kneecaps of the man holding Gumbo.
Ororo was certain that Gambit would remain motionless the moment things went down. He was smart, had done this sort of thing himself.
A beat later, Jean-Luc held the box out to his Assassin counterpart.
“Ah, dis not even satisfyin’,” the thickly accented man said contemptuously. “I beat de Thieves’ leader an’ no one gon’ congratulate me.”
His hands touched the box.
Storm, like some ancient warrior, stood in one fluid motion, bringing her shotgun up. Logan stood immediately, his own weapons raised as Rogue took the handguns from her belt.
“I believe you are mistaken.”
Ororo’s loud words were broken by the ringing shot of her gun. The Assassin screamed, the bullet now lodged in his elbows. Logan fired both of his shotguns, hitting the kneecaps of the idiot holding Gambit.
Rogue was firing her handguns like a pro, getting shoulders and kneecaps of the men standing in the Jeeps. Storm dropped her shotgun, taking a grendade in her hand and pulling the pin with her teeth.
“Remy!”
As if on cue, she tossed the grenade and Gambit flattened to the dirty ground, rolling toward them quickly. Logan busied himself with retrieving the boy, who was closest to him. Storm and Rogue reloaded and were busy chasing the Assassins from the clearing while dodging bullets.
The explosion rocked one Jeep and tossed another onto it’s side, red-hot flame leaping up into the thick tree canopy covering the swamp. Luckily, she’d managed to hit the unoccupied Jeep, not killing anyone.
Thieves were waiting in their Jeeps, even as Logan scooped the bleeding Cajun they’d come for into his arms and over his shoulder.
“Danks, mon ami,” Gambit said weakly.
“You ok, kid?” Logan shouted over the gunfire.
Storm was on a roll, tossing her handguns aside as several hidden Assassins flooded the clearing. She was back to back with Rogue, who had already used up her ammo. Logan paused, wondering if he should follow his lover’s orders or help her.
They were protecting the box and at the first flash of knives, he knew they would be all right. Logan shot another Assassin in the kneecap as he tore off across the clearing, keeping Gambit protectively over his shoulder.
“Remy!”
“Papa.”
Logan deposited his package in the back of a Thieves’ Jeep, watching a touching moment as Jean-Luc cut his son’s bonds and the two men embraced warmly.
“Gotta protect Gambit’s girls,” the man said weakly.
Smirking, Wolverine reached into his pocket, handing the man a set of playing cards.
“Thought ya might want those. Stay low an’ don’t leave the Jeep or Storm’ll have my head.”
“Danks, Wolverine,” Gambit said as he charged a card, making it glow in the dim light.
Logan jumped out of the Jeep, drawing his .9-milimeters from his belt. Storm and Rogue were holding their own, keeping the box from Assassin hands. He came up beside them as sniper rifles from the Thieves’ Jeeps were given the order to open fire.
No Thief killed, according to Storm. If it was at all avoidable, they did not take lives. That was the Assassins role in the Bayou. Kneecaps, thighs, arms, and hands however, were fair game. Several Assassins went down with various injuries. Logan took two shots in the chest, barely grunting through the pain.
The leading Assassin had already been collected by his men, which seemed to be scrambling for the Jeeps. Storm was shaking her head as she threw one of her elegantly curves knives. Logan laughed as it lodged into a tire, making several of their enemies scream like women.
Gun power and burning metal were not pleasant scents, but they covered the small clearing. Even as the Assassins began to retreat, screaming curses in French, the three X-Men kept close to the box in question.
Suddenly, all was quiet, save for the Jeep burning just a few meters away and the sound of frightened Cajuns as they made their escape in the two working Jeeps, flat tire or not. Logan lowered his guns, turning to the women he’d fought beside.
Storm held her last knife in one hand, staring after the retreating bastards. Rogue was breathing hard, her arm bleeding from what looked like a bullet graze. The Thieves behind them were quiet, the sound of silence deafening after the rage of battle.
Blue eyes suddenly met his, admiration glowing through them as Ororo kissed his lips quickly.
“Thank you.”
Her soft words hit him hard and he gave her a small smile. “Anythin’ for my wife.”
She tilted her head slightly, giving him that simple, beautiful smile that had become his very reason for living.
“Rogue?”
“Gambit.”
Logan turned his head in time to see Gambit limping from the Jeep. Rogue’s beautiful face was wet with tears as she moved toward her love. His heart twisted when he saw Gambit rush as much as he could, paying no heed to the blood soaking his torn clothing.
Rogue was tired, but her face showed her relief when they met in the center of the clearing. Gambit’s arms went around her instantly, wrapping the small woman in a strong embrace. He was saying something against her hair in broken, emotional French.
His young friend was crying as she clung to her love. Logan glanced at Storm, seeing the admiration in her eyes. The two young lovers were beautiful together. Though Wolverine knew they were in for a long, difficult haul, he had a feeling they would be all right. Everything Rogue had done to retrieve him spoke of a love Logan understood well.
He felt Ororo grab his hand, squeezing it as Rogue and Gambit broke apart. There would be no passionate kiss between them, her mutation forbade it, but from the look shared between them, neither cared.
“Wow,” Logan whispered to his love. “That’s…”
“Akin to witnessing a miracle,” Ororo replied softly. “My Cajun playboy has just fallen. Hard.”
“I think I know how he feels,” he responded, giving her a small smile.
“As do I,” Ororo kissed his cheek, pulling on his hand. “Come, we need to rest.”
“Yeah,” Logan agreed. “Anyone gonna break them up?”
“I do not have the heart,” his love pouted as they came upon the staring couple.
“Yeah, neither do I,” he nodded. “Lets give them a minute.”
Logan and Ororo moved toward one of the Jeeps, smiling at the wistful expression on Papa Jean’s face as the other Thieves retrieved the box. By the time the mutant couple was strapped into their Jeep, Rogue was helping Gambit back to his father.
Everything was all right again, Logan mused as they drove away from the bloodied clearing. His family was in tact.
