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Whump. Ororo punched her pillow, flipping it over for the hundredth time. She flung herself back against the offensive collection of cotton with a humph, hair billowing like a cloud around her head. This is ridiculous, she thought. I am grown woman, a few unsettling thoughts are not going to keep me from sleeping. She closed her eyes with determination. They were open an instant later.
It was no use; every time she shut her eyes she saw dark shapes, and cloaked figures, she heard angry voices calling out to her, cursing her. She shuddered, pulling one of the pillows over her face, muffling her squeal of frustration. She flung it aside angrily.
Turning Ororo gazed at the picture she had placed on her nightstand before bed. It was a picture of Logan, lounging against his bike, looking every inch the devil’s own temptation to weak willed women. She ran a finger lovingly down the frame. He had left early that morning for his assignment with Scott and Rogue. They would be in California for the next few days, and despite her reassuring him that she was fine and could take care of herself, a small part of her wished he was with her now.
She looked at the clock beside the picture with a grimace: 2:15 am. One of Logan’s more colorful phrases popped into her head, and she chuckled.
“What so funny, padnat?”
“Remy!” Ororo bolted upright in bed, instinctively sending a blast of air in the direction of Gambit’s smooth drawl. She heard him curse, as his feet were taken out from under him. She clicked on the bedside lamp revealing Remy’s sprawled form a few feet from the bed. He scrambled to his feet with catlike agility. Ororo rose, striding towards him, eyes flashing. He started to say something but was interrupted by her fist meeting his face.
“You left me!” she accused. “You left me!” She shoved at his chest.
“Stormy, listen! Remy will explain everytin’ jus’ calm down.” He rubbed his jaw. A thin trickle of blood sliding down his chin from the cut on his lip. Immediately she reached out, wiping it away with her thumb, an old habit of hers, taking care of his wounds. His eyes closed at her touch and his breath left his lungs shakily.
“Don’t call me that,” she said softly. He opened his eyes, regret, remorse, and pain all reflected there. She stepped forward embracing him. He became rigid, uncertain. She squeezed, and with a choked sound he hugged her back.
“Remy don’ understand.” he said clearly confused.
Ororo stepped away from him, sat on the corner of her bed and studied him. He looked like hell. Thinner than when she saw him last, his face shadowed with days old growth, dark circles under his eyes. She told him as much.
“T’anks, chere. Matches ‘ow I feel, den.” He sat beside her hesitantly as if he expected her to lash out at him again. He looked her up and down. “You look…well.” He paused, noticing the dark green and black flannel shirt she was wearing. He recognized it as one of Wolverine’s. His hands closed into fists and a tick started in the corner of his jaw.
“You mean for having my ass handed to me by Sabertooth. Then yeah, I guess I do look well.”
“Takin’ language lessons from da Wolverine, chere?” Gambit couldn’t keep the sarcasm out of his voice. “Among ot’er t’ings.” he mumbled.
“I did not catch that last part, Gambit. Care to repeat it?” her voice was cold, eyes ice blue.
Remy looked away, clenching his teeth. Ever since the other night when he had witnessed her in the woods, clinging to Wolverine, lost in the throes of passion, making sounds he’d only ever heard her make in his most secret dreams, he’d felt like he‘d lost a part of himself. Stormy was his constant, his certainty and now that all had changed.
He turned to her now; she sat studying him, her head tilted to one side, a river of snow flowing down her arm. She was supposed to always be his, he thought.
The logical part of Gambit knew it wasn’t fair of him to expect her to always be there for him, always be available when he needed a friend, a shoulder, unconditional acceptance, but he had expected it none the less. He had always assumed she was above the wants and desires of regular women. He had always foolishly thought that she would not need anyone else, as long as she had him. He drew in a deep breath. There was a place in his heart that was Stormy’s and hers alone, and it was a bigger place than he cared to admit, even to himself.
“I think it is past time for explanations, my friend.” Ororo said when he did not say anything.
“Am I, Stormy?”
“Are you what?”
“Your friend.” The uncertainty in his voice tore at her heart.
“Of course you are.”
“Even after I lied to ya?”
“I do not believe for one second that you meant to.”
Remy ran one leather clad hand down his face wearily. “Ah, but I did, chere.”
Ororo felt her stomach knot but said nothing. There was an explanation, surely there was. This was her best friend, her brother. He would not have intentionally betrayed her, she just knew he wouldn’t have.
He looked so lost. She touched his face with the tips of her fingers. “Tell me.”
He caught her hand, kissing her palm. “You would hear me out, after…” he couldn’t finish. In his mind flashed images of Storm battered and bloody, fighting for her life while he kneeled helpless, unable to move, unable to save her. He lowered his head.
“Remy, of course I will listen to you. I know you. I know you here,” she touched his forehead with her index finger. “I know you here,” she touched his chest, directly over his thudding heart. “And I know you here,” she placed his hand over her heart, holding onto him when he would have pulled away, as if touching her scalded him. “Being deeply loved by someone gives you strength; loving someone deeply gives you courage. You have both in you.”
“Ahh, Stormy…” He pressed his head into her shoulder, wrapping his arms around her, holding her like she was life itself and he was a dying man. She stroked his auburn hair patiently.
Ororo pressed her cheek against the top of his head, happy that her friend had come home at last. She knew Logan would have an absolute fit if he knew that Gambit was here, but he was away from the mansion--
“Remy?”
“Hm?”
“How long have you been spying on me?”
A pause. He could lie, but he wouldn‘t. “Long enough t’ know Iceman ain’t got not’in on you, Stormy.”
She gave an outraged gasp, followed by an indignant snort. “Pervert,” was the only reprimand she gave him. He looked like he had enough guilt and remorse on his plate, no need to over feed, she thought.
“When you are ready to talk, I will listen.” She rose, walking towards the balcony. Without a word he followed her.
She opened the double doors, greeting the evening breeze with a sigh. The sky was crystal clear, infinite stars as far as she could see. The night sky at its deepest had always reminded her of Logan. Dark and often frightening, filled with infinite dimensions, infinite possibilities, and breathtaking beauty when one looked deep enough.
“Does he make ya happy, Stormy?” Gambit asked quietly as if reading her thoughts. She heard the strike of a match and smelled the familiar scent of his cigarette. Funny the things she had missed during his absence.
“He is my night sky,” she responded, smiling her Mona Lisa smile. He said nothing, approaching her from behind, wrapping his arms around her and resting his whiskered chin on her hair.
“Missed ya, padnat. Thought I lost you. I wasn‘t sure I‘d ever see you again. Had t‘ come see you though. Couldn’ leave it like it was.”
“I am glad, my brother. I sorely missed you as well. I am, however, still waiting for a reason behind your sudden desire to be rid of me.” Although she was trying to tease she felt Gambit stiffen behind her.
“Come, let’s get comfy, chere. It is a long story and I t’ink I’d rather be sittin’ durin’ da telling’, if you don’ mind.” He reached for her hand, strolling back into the loft. He was limping she noticed.
“Remy?”
“Yeah, Stormy?”
“It will not matter what you tell me. I love you regardless.”
“How did I ever get so lucky, padnat, as t’ ‘ave you in my life?”
Ororo temporarily halted, reflecting on their first meeting. She'd fallen two stories, she remembered, and ended up landing in an extremely cold swimming pool. The most handsome young man she’d ever laid eyes on knelt before her. He was dressed in black with a brown trench coat and a friendly grin that reached straight to his red on black eyes. "Little late for a swim, eh, chere?" he had asked with a laugh, instantly winning her heart. He became her mentor, provider, and best friend.
“You must have been a very good boy in a previous life,” she said.
“Yeah, musta been,” he agreed throat tight, knowing they were sharing the same memory. She reached up, tugging his trademark duster from his shoulders and tossing it onto her ‘comfy’ chair with an absent flip of her wrist. Gambit dropped onto her bed with a bounce, pulling off his black boots. He scooted back until he was pressed against the pillows guarding the headboard and motioned for her to join him.
Ororo climbed in beside him, switching off the lamp as they settled into their most comfortable and familiar position, her head on his chest, his hands fiddling with her hair. “I didn’ want you t’ be hurt,” he said softly after several minutes to which Ororo made no reply. She knew Remy, knew he would talk to her, tell her everything that she needed to know, but he would do it at his own pace.
“I wanna tell ya it wasn’ me who took ya away from here. If only I could-- But it was me. Or at least mostly me.” He shook his head. “I still don’ fully understand myself what made me feel like dat... It‘s ‘ard t‘ explain. It was like I woke up one day and had t‘ get you away from here. As far away as I could. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn‘ shake da feelin‘ that if you stayed somet’in bad was gonna ’appen t’ you. Obviously a bad judgment call on my part as we both know. Ya couldna been more hurt den you were--”
“What did you think was going to happen, Remy, when you sold me to Sinister or Sabertooth or whomever it was you traded me to?” she interrupted, feeling the stirrings of anger.
Remy stiffened once again. “What ya talkin’ ‘bout, chere? I never sold you? Traded you? What?” He was pissed now, his red on black eyes glowing in the dark.
“Remy. I saw Mystique with you, I saw you take a bag of money.”
“Well, hell, Stormy, I am a thief before I’m anything else. O’ course I took a bag full of money. But I sure as fuck didn’t try t’ sell you to Sabertooth or Sinister or whoever the hell else you t’ink I would. Where would you get an idea like dat?” he was hurt. She could hear it in his voice. She furrowed her brow in confusion.
“There was a note. You sent Rogue a note, saying that you were going to barter me in exchange for a clean slate or some such deal.”
“Pffft. Remy smarter den dat, padnat. You t’ink if I was goin’ to sell you like some piece of horseflesh to de highest biddin’ baddie, I would leave a fuckin’ note?”
“Language,” she corrected automatically. Gambit rarely swore with such verve, only when he was really upset and upset he was if the faint glow she was detecting from his hands was any indication.
“I took you to New Orleans cause I had made arrangements wit’ Jean-Luc. He was gonna send some guild after us ta make ya t’ink Remy was in trouble. T’ keep you away from dis place.” He waved his hand in broad stroke.
“Well, then who was the man we met on the street, the one in the cloak?”
“At first I thought he was whoever Papa ‘ad sent, and by de time I realized it was no one from any guild, I was on de ground ‘aving a heart attack. Next t’ing I know we’re surrounded by de fuckin’ evil Brady Bunch, and you,” he squeezed her hard, “are fightin’ that slobbering buffoon like some Amazon goddess.” Gambit stopped talking momentarily caught up in the horrible memories of that day, of watching his padnat on the ground bleeding, and him kneeling there helpless. Watching her die…
“I believe you,” she said bringing him back to the present. “Then why did you leave me?” This time the hurt was in her voice.
Remy took a deep, steadying breath. “I blamed myself for what ‘appened. I lied to ya, took ya away from da safety of da mansion, and I just couldn’--God, Stormy, ya looked like you were goin’ t’ die. I couldn’ take it. I ran. I’m a coward, I know.”
“Remy. I am a goddess, and goddesses do not befriend cowards.”
Despite his mood, Remy chuckled. Christ, she had thought he had tried to sell her! Didn’t she know she was priceless to him? Beyond value? Even more amazing was that she had still been willing to see him, to hear him out. Gambit felt blessed for such a gift as her friendship in his life. He thought back to Rogue abandoning him in the snow and cold after she’d found out some of his unsavory past. She hadn’t been willing to listen, instead she had been only too eager to leave him to die. She was sorry, she said, and he was trying to forgive her. But it was hard. Some betrayals you just never get over. He looked down at Storm, who was tapping one long finger against her chin, deep in thought.
“The facts as they stand now are: you had an overwhelming urge to remove me from the mansion. You in turn lied to me to get me to travel to New Orleans, where you were going to have some Guild members harass us so that I would stay, thinking you needed me, but somehow we got sold out and Sabertooth, Mystique and weird cloak guy stepped in to apparently kidnap me and set you up. Does that sound about right?”
Remy grinned awkwardly. “Yep, dat ‘bout sums it up.”
“Good. Now all we have to do is figure out who and why.”
“Jus’ like dat?” he teased.
“Yes, Gambit. Just like that. This person or persons hurt my friends, hurt my family and they will pay for it. They will pay dearly.” She practically growled it.
“Ah, you are takin’ lesson from da Wolverine.”
Ororo swatted his arm. He hadn’t betrayed her! Her heart was full to bursting! She was alive, Gambit was home, and she was in love with Logan. Life suddenly seemed perfect.
“Tell me, padnat, what other neat tricks do ya do when you and Wolv--”
“Gambit, I am warning you. Do not finish that sentence.”
“As you wish, padnat. Whatever your heart desires…”





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