The Ante - REVIEW THIS STORY

Written by Lucia de’Medici
Last updated: 05/11/2007 10:19:38 PM

Chapter 11

"This is my fault." Cyclops bowed his head, hands clamped around his biceps. Though he spoke into his chest, the occupants of the War Room heard him clearly.

Displayed in three-dimensional, holographic clarity, a rotating projection turned lazily on the table before them. The stone was large, nearly twelve inches in length, and faceted in such a manner that was too complex for human machines to design, and too perfect to be natural.

It was a garish crimson.

"Alex and I -" he faltered. "We thought we destroyed it. Asteroid M fell. Sanctuary fell. There couldn’t have been anything left."

"There wasn’t, Scott," Professor Xavier affirmed. "Progressive scans of the area confirmed it. Magneto’s dream of a unified, super-powered mutant-kind was destroyed with the asteroid."

Wolverine made a low noise in the back of his throat.

"Uhh... hey? Guys?" Tabitha piped up. "What are we talking about exactly?"

On one side of the large, steel table, the New Mutants who had joined the Institute after the events that led to the rise of Magneto looked between themselves, clearly uncertain of the discussion carried on by the elder members of the team.

Bobby nudged Jubilee, who in turn nudged Amara, who poked Tabitha in the ribs. "Be more specific," she hissed. Beside her, Sam rolled his eyes, and nodded his head at Scott. Ray frowned a little and peered at Jamie, who stared wide-eyed at the revolving hologram.

Across the table, Kitty cleared her throat. "It’s a little complicated, actually."

"Professor?" Jean asked. Charles merely nodded his head, his fingers steepled before him as he concentrated. "Well," Jean began, tapping a button on the control panel and changing the projection. Before them, a three-dimensional asteroid now hovered. The rock face was pitted, dark blue, and interspersed with glittering striations of metallic alloy. Jutting chunks of internal reinforcements marred the entire structure; beams, domes, and causeways dotted its surface.

"Cool," Jamie hummed.

Ray elbowed him to shut up.

"It was a couple of years ago," Jean said, casting a sidelong glance at her boyfriend. Scott frowned, not willing to offer his input. "Magneto was still at large, at the time. In fact, it was this particular incident that alerted us to his presence."

"It was our informal introduction, actually," Kurt murmured.

"He had modified this asteroid and set it to orbit on Earth’s gravitational current. As you can see, the infrastructure is quite advanced." Jean pointed to the small dots of light illuminating the rock face. True enough, there were several buildings littering the landscape.

"He intended for only the most worthy of adversaries to coexist on the satellite."

"Mutants united against the human threat," Kitty supplied, frowning a little and fingering the two playing cards resting on the table before her. It was an absent gesture that earned a stern look from Wolverine. Kitty dropped her hands.

"What a crackpot," Tabitha snorted, turning her attention to her nail polish.

"Boom Boom!" Bobby hissed. "Don’t be so insensitive!" He jutted his chin at Scott, who didn’t look up.

"Don’t be such a kiss ass, popsicle!" Tabitha stuck out her tongue.

"How were ’the worthy’ determined, Jean?" Amara asked.

"We fought," Jean said.

"We were attacked," Kurt corrected.

"By the Brotherhood," Kitty added. "I mean, we were, at least. But only Rogue was chosen."

Kurt nodded.

Wolverine growled again, his jaw working.

Piotr leaned closer, examining the projection. "And she vos taken to zis place? For vot?"

Jean took a breath. "Blob, Avalanche, Quicksilver, Sabretooth, Storm, the Professor, Rogue, and myself were taken. The Brotherhood fought for what they claimed to be their ’rightful places’ alongside Magneto."

"And Jean and I defeated Toad and Mystique, respectively," Storm added.

"Wolverine pulled a punch at my behest and let Sabretooth take his place," the Professor continued. "I warned him telepathically, as Magnus had already assumed control of the jet in which I was seated and had brought me to him."

"Scott," Jean continued hesitantly, "Scott and his brother Alex -"

"We went by our own volition," Cyclops murmured.

A hush fell over the room as their leader began to speak. He looked up; his red-tinted glasses reflecting their faces back at them as he gazed at his team. "Magneto had built a chamber into the asteroid - a genetic enhancer that he meant to use to bolster our mutations. We were to become the completely evolved versions of ourselves. It would have given us complete control."

Scott stood, leaning into Jean a little as he slammed a fist down on the controls that changed the holographic display.

"This stone, the Gem of Cyttorak, fuelled the machine."

"How Magnus was ever able to obtain the gem..." Xavier trailed off, his eyes fixed on the projection.

"Alex and I, well, since Magneto had invited us and we’d gone willingly, he saw no need to force us against our will. He thought the others would be a liability, though."

"He imprisoned us in stasis," Storm contributed darkly. "Four translucent, self-contained environments; they were climate-controlled, of course."

Beside her, Logan snorted. "What Storm means, kids, is that he stuck them into test tubes for safekeeping. What could you do? Buckethead thought of everything."

"He trapped us and forced us into slumber so that we would not be capable of using our powers," Storm said sharply. It was a known fact amongst the X-Men that the weather witch had an acute fear of enclosed spaces.

"I did not see the Gem," the Professor stated. "I would not have known of its presence were it not for Cyclops’ account of Magneto’s admission afterwards. Erik ensured that particular detail, I am certain."

"Stripes wouldn’t have seen it, either," Logan added. "She was locked up and knocked out alongside ya, Chuck. There’s no way she could have recognized it even by absorbing Gumbo’s memories."

"And Gambit certainly would not know if it’s potential, either," Storm added. "He is impulsive, but he is not a stupid child. He would not risk himself bodily harm."

"Child?" Logan cocked an eyebrow.

"We are all children in some way, Wolverine. It is simply a matter to whom," Storm replied.

"What does it do?" Sam asked. "If it’s just a rock -"

"It’s not just any rock," Cyclops continued. "Magneto claimed that the Gem emitted a radioactive field, but that’s not entirely accurate."

"Not at all," Charles murmured. "I have seen what the Gem can do in its raw form. Magneto processed its energy, and in turn, he was able to manipulate the fields produced by his enhancement chamber."

"He brainwashed us," Cyclops admitted bitterly. "He tried to wipe my mind and Alex’s mind. ’Purge it of unnecessary emotion,’ he said."

"As a result of Magneto’s tampering, the outcome of both Scott and Alex’s modified mutations were temporary. They exerted themselves entirely, draining themselves of their freshly acquired powers by attempting to destroy Asteroid M when it began to break apart."

"We succeeded," Scott murmured. "I thought we had succeeded."

"You might have, Slim," Logan rumbled. "At least partially. Chuck? You said you’ve seen what the Gem can do firsthand?"

"I have." The Professor looked around the table at his X-Men, concern furrowing his brow. "There is one individual who used the Gem of Cyttorak to its maximum capabilities, and because of it, he was changed forever. He became hostile, violent, and uncontrollable. The powers of the Gem activated his latent X-gene, turning a man into something very near a monster. He is unstoppable."

"I don’t like the sound of that," Kurt murmured, casting an uneasy look at Kitty.

Shadowcat leaned forwards intently, pulling her laptop closer and linking to Cerebro’s mainframe through the mansion’s wireless network. In a moment, peering at the Professor over her reading glasses, she sucked in a breath and modified the holographic projection before the team.

"Professor?" Bobby asked fearfully.

"He is my half-brother." Professor Xavier examined the revolving hologram before him, his face now devoid of expression.

All eyes turned to the center of the table.

"He is now known simply as The Juggernaut."

A growing silence followed this statement, the tension in the room increasing. Even the new recruits were well versed with Juggernaut’s abilities. He was the nearest thing to a tank on two legs that anyone had ever witnessed. He cared for no one, and literally, nothing could stand in his way.

"That bulldozer?" Ray said after a moment. "You’re related to...?"

"That’s enough Ray," Jean cut him off sternly.

"He is invulnerable to any form of physical attack," the Professor continued. "Though he always demonstrated his dislike of our familial relations, it was his envy, indeed, his hatred, amplified by the Gem that shaped his determination to destroy. He cannot be controlled."

The Professor looked around the table. "Only I have been able to weaken him psychically. He is now in a private detainment centre, suspended in an indefinite slumber."

"Are you saying," Kurt began hoarsely, "that if meine schwester were to use the Gem like Gambit did... that she’d... she’d... turn into something like..."

"Gambit has not demonstrated any indication of that," Jean said firmly.

"Jean’s right." Scott let out a breath. "Hank would have seen that in the readouts. Excessive violence, or..."

"More stupidity than usual?" Logan snorted. After a moment, he subsided, muttering, "Sorry, Chuck."

"There is no indication of such behavior, no," Henry said. Several members of the team looked up to the spot overhead where Henry hung upside down, clinging securely to the pipes crisscrossing the ceiling. Jamie jumped, unaware of the doctor’s presence up until that moment, and scattered himself into several copies - one of which knocked Ray off his chair, and another of which landed in Tabitha’s lap. The clone smiled sheepishly, vanishing a moment later.

"The stupidity, or...?" Logan pressed, ignoring the replicated mutants dusting themselves off.

"Violent, aberrant, or hostile behavior," Hank affirmed. "Gambit is much cleverer than you give him credit for, Logan. The tests have indicated two possibilities - either Gambit’s control over his powers, his psionic shield, his ability to manipulate and excite matter of a molecular level have surpassed our database’s estimated calculations. In turn, he would be capable of suppressing his innate abilities and siphoning off only a portion to Rogue when he permitted her to absorb him, or," he paused, glancing at the Professor, "the genetic enhancement was incomplete."

"Which would indicate instability." The Professor nodded thoughtfully. "Or perhaps, only a portion of the Gem’s powers were accessed," he added.

"Or maybe the Gem itself is only a fragment of the original stone," Scott muttered. "Maybe it can’t do the same sort of damage if it was broken when Asteroid M was destroyed."

"Would you use a broken razor blade, Cyclops?" Logan asked.

Scott looked up, paused, and then shook his head.

"You’d do a helluva lot more damage to yourself if ya did," he ground out. "What’s there to say if the Gem’s busted, and Stripes is thinking of using it?"

"A very good analogy, Logan," Hank said. "As it were, our database reports that an alien crystal such as this -"

"Alien?" Ray squawked. "You’re not serious?"

Tabitha elbowed him; her interest was finally perked by the ongoing conversation.

"Its origins are debatable," the Professor conceded, "though it is widely held that the Gems, for indeed there are several, were not human conception. The myths surrounding them are steeped in mystical tradition and cult worship."

"They are said to be the instruments of Cyttorak himself," Storm added. "Cyttorak was a vastly powerful sentient entity banished from earth millennia ago. The stone is said to be imbued with his powers."

"What’s the worst case scenario?" Logan asked, abruptly ending the history lesson before the kids could get themselves worked up over E.T. He leaned forward to examine the hologram again.

Hank shook his head. "We do not know Gambit’s exact condition. I could offer you a probability ratio of the outcome if Rogue was to use the Gem, but my hypothesis would be purely speculative."

"Then guess," Logan ground out.

"Fatality seems improbable," Hank replied, a little flatly.

"That’s it? You’re saying it won’t kill her?" Kurt asked, aghast.

"There are worse things than death in this case, I am afraid," the Professor murmured.

"Well, like, that’s reassuring!" Kitty cried, tossing her arms into the air. "Sorry, Professor," she added sheepishly. Her hands had returned to the King and Queen of Hearts.

Kurt slumped backwards into his chair.

"What I want to know is, how the hell did Gumbo get his hands on that rock?" Logan interjected, jabbing a finger onto the surface of the table for emphasis.

"I think I can answer that," Scott murmured, frowning at the hologram.

Beside him, Jean’s eyes widened. "Oh no..."

"Was?" Kurt sat up again, leaning across the table.

"There were only two people left on the asteroid before it crashed," Scott muttered. "One of them is presently in custody up at Redwood Pines respite home, and the other has been unaccounted for since..."

"Scheiße!" Kurt swore, standing up, realization making his face pale despite the thin coating of blue fur.

"Sit down, Kurt," the Professor warned.

"You can’t be serious!" he near-shouted. "I knew it. I knew she’d be back! She’s been waiting for an opportunity to hurt us since we told her we wanted nothing to do with her after Apocalypse!"

"What?" Kitty asked, swiveling in her seat. "Kurt, calm down." She stood, tugging on his arm and pulling him back down. "What are you talking about?"

Nightcrawler remained tense, curling his knees against his chest and flicking his tail irritably against the table. He brushed Kitty’s reassuring hand off.

"Mystique obviously hasn’t learned her lesson. Rogue will..." Kurt turned to Kitty, eyes wide. "She’ll kill her."

"That’s assuming Rogue knows its Mystique behind it," Scott interjected.

"You don’t think Gambit would -"

"Shadowcat," Scott cut her off. "This is a worst case scenario. We can’t determine whether or not Mystique has hired out Gambit to bring Rogue to her at this point."

"Was?" Kurt’s head snapped around, his expression darkening.

"However," Scott continued, "it’s a fair assumption that’s what happened. Mystique and Magneto were the last two people off that asteroid, and considering Magneto is presently incapacitated -"

"Amnesic," Bobby supplied.

"A vegetable," added Tabitha with a snigger.

"Boom Boom!" Ray snapped.

Tabitha shrunk a little in her seat, making a face but falling silent nonetheless.

Logan sniffed. "Chuck?" he raised an eyebrow.

Slowly, the Professor nodded. "I will visit Joseph. He will not remember, but perhaps if certain... selective... memories of his were unlocked, we may find proof that it was indeed Mystique who secured the Gem."

"Cyke?" Logan asked, standing. "What’s the game plan?"

Scott stiffened, slipping into his role as the leader with little difficulty though it was clear he was none too pleased about taking the suggestion from Logan to get moving.

"I want a small team. Iceman, Colossus, prepare the jet. Storm will pilot. You five," he pointed at Amara, Ray, Tabitha, Jubilee, and Jamie, "are staying here. I want live feeds. You track them, you determine their destination, and you provide Kitty with the digital readouts. I want twenty-four-hour surveillance. I want to know where Gambit’s taking Rogue, and I want you to find out if Mystique is within a fifty-mile radius of that location."

He paused, turning to Kurt and Kitty. "Shadowcat, you’re on the receiving. Get in the jet." She nodded quickly, and with one last look at Kurt, she phased through her seat, and through the floor. With her, the cards had disappeared.

"Nightcrawler?"

Kurt looked up at him, three-fingers of each hand balled into fists against his shins. His tail made a hollow bonking sound against the table leg where he sat.

"If you’re going to be a liability, I’m leaving you here," Cyclops warned.

"She’s my sister," he spat. "This is personal. I’m going." With that, Kurt ported out in a puff of sulfur.

Cyclops nodded, turning to the Professor and to Hank. "We will be back in no more than twenty-four hours. Our objective is to obtain Rogue, detain Gambit, and, if she’s there, detain Mystique."

"Hey, kid," Logan called. "I’m coming." He nodded to Jean. "If Gambit’s working for Mystique now, there’s no telling what the pair of them have cooked up. You’ll need all the firepower that you can get."

For a moment, it appeared that Scott’s mouth had disappeared into his chin; his lips were pressed together so hard that they’d gone white.

"You sure this isn’t your way of saying you’d rather skewer Gambit personally?" Jean asked wryly, sauntering towards the door.

Logan chuckled, swaggering out of the War Room behind her, though not without cutting off Scott first. "Red, ya gotta stop peekin’ into my head."

"That would be unethical," Cyclops interjected tersely.

"Then Red knows me far too well, Cyke," Logan’s voice trailed off as they rounded the corner.

"Hank," the Professor hummed after his X-Men had filed out of the room to prepare.

Henry craned his head back a moment, and deciding he’d much rather prefer to talk to the man face to face, he swung overhand and dropped to the ground a few feet away.

"Is it possible?" he asked after a moment. "I was so certain that Gambit’s intentions were honest..."

"How did he read, Charles?" Henry asked after a moment. The Professor was an idealist, after all, but it was a rare occasion when his judgment of a mutant’s character was this inaccurate. Hank himself had been near-convinced by Gambit’s behavior - the boy’s methods were certainly questionable, but the intent behind them?

Privately, he had hoped that by convincing Rogue to use her powers again, Gambit had reached her in a way that no one else had even dared.

The Professor shook his head. "He did not, my friend. He did not," he replied with a sigh. "While Gambit’s mental shields proved far too strong, his assurance had been enough to placate my concerns... At the time."

Henry McCoy raised an eyebrow but did not press the matter.

"Rich gifts wax poor when givers prove unkind." He nodded consolingly. "They will find her, Charles, Rogue and Gambit both. Perhaps you may find that you have been correct in your assumptions all along."

"I can only hope, Henry."

---

New Orleans was an atomic bloom that infused the sky with bright violet. Rogue half expected to hear the blare of zydeco from where she sat.

"She’s belle, non?" Remy said over his shoulder.

Rogue had to lean a little closer to hear him over the rush of wind that carried over the lake. The bridge was longer than she’d imagined. The last time they’d come here, they’d traveled freight, lowest class seats - crate boxes, in other words. She hadn’t remembered that the city was so bright, even at four in the morning.

"She doesn’t sleep," he continued. "She just carries on all day and all night. S’ my type of femme."

Rogue rolled her eyes, though Remy flashed her a winning grin over his shoulder.

"Y’ like?"

Rogue sucked in a breath. The air tasted fresh, a little humid, but clean. She blinked the wind out of her eyes and arched her back, letting go of the seat and clinging to the bike with her legs. She let her hands trail out behind her, the rush of air running through her gloved fingers pleasantly. It cooled off some of the sticky, unshowered lethargy that had settled on her once they’d crossed the Tennessee border.

"It’s alright," she replied dismissively. In truth, the lights reflecting off Lake Pontchartrain - red and gold and purple and blue - made her chest ache just a little. It was a good hurt, though. It reminded her of the home she’d once shared with Irene, of lanterns strung up around the fourth of July; their glow tinting the banks of the Mississippi River in lazy, rippling patches.

"Dat’s hardly an answer, chérie," he chastised lightly.

"That’s cause ya haven’t answered any of my questions, swamp rat. Fair’s fair."

He laughed, a true laugh that made his shoulders shake. Rogue grinned a little, taken aback by his sudden show of good humor. Apparently, being home really did a number on the guy.

"Y’ right, s’ fair," he shrugged.

"Yo’ not gonna tell me either, are ya?" she pressed lightly. She was too tired to argue, honestly. It had been a long day, and although they’d made good time, all Rogue wanted was a shower, a change of clothes, and a comfortable bed for the night.

"Never said dat," Remy returned. "Dere’s a time and a place f’ everyt’ing, an’ having dat conversation like dis is a lil’ awkward."

"Then when?"

He chuckled again, easing off the throttle a little and switching into the right lane. "Y’ know, m’ brother Henri always told m’ dat I could talk de ears off anyone who’d listen. I t’ink y’ might be givin’ me a run for m’ money."

Rogue snorted half-heartedly. "Cajun, ya been trying ta prove that ya can get in my head all day. Ya gotta get yours sometime, too."

The Harley slowed, pulling up to the narrow shoulder. They were halfway across the bridge.

"What are ya doing, exactly, swamp rat?" Rogue asked when he didn’t answer. She peered over the guardrail at the black, brackish water below. The drop was substantial, appearing farther with the dense shades collected beneath the causeway. It made her head swim a little.

"Just announcing m’ arrival, chére. Won’t take a minute," Remy said lightly, killing the engine and sliding off the bike in one fluid motion. He strolled around to the front wheel, sliding his trench coat off his shoulders and tossing it at her.

Rogue caught it, surprised at its weight. "The heck ya carrying all this around for?" she muttered, feeling the pockets gingerly.

Remy tsked, slipping his bo from a belt loop and extending it with a quick snap of the wrist.

"Best t’ be prepared f’ anyt’ing." He shrugged. "T’ answer y’ other question," he said, though not without a hint of coyness, "tomorrow we start recon. Gotta head back t’ de place t’ make sure everyt’ing’s in order. Tomorrow night, though..." he grinned. "Y’ owe Remy a lil’ something, non?"

"Ya don’t have ta keep reminding me, swamp rat. My memory goes farther back than five minutes," she retorted wryly.

"Just checking." He smirked.

He’d been gloating for the better part of the afternoon, much to her chagrin. Despite her best efforts to shut him up about their "date," his frequent quips had lightened the mood considerably, especially since in the long-stretching lulls between the state borders, Rogue had resorted to contemplating one of two things, neither of which was entirely pleasant... Not to say that the idea of going on a date with the swamp rat was pleasant. Lord, no. She’d cornered herself into that one, and she’d grin and bear it, sure. Didn’t mean she’d enjoy it - but she wasn’t about to balk. She would not give that low-life snake charmer the satisfaction of besting her.

Damned Cajun didn’t know what he was in for - and if he dared try to get her into something pink and frilly, she’d use that staff of his to give him an adamantium enema.

Rogue sniffed, unable to restrain her scowl.

"Quoi?" Gambit asked innocently, seeing her expression.

She glowered.

The first mental hurdle she’d encountered was facing the possibility that this was all a sham. There was no stone. Gambit had lied about his powers to persuade her to return to the Big Easy with him. He had done it once before, and who was to say he wouldn’t do it again? For all his airy banter and sly subtext, the guy had somehow convinced her to come this far... again... and he’d used the same damned lines on her... again.

Moreover, he’d somehow managed to insinuate three very distinctive memories in her head to persuade her. If it wasn’t enough that she’d absorbed him, Rogue had come to the wary conclusion after a few hours of racking her brain that his psyche was clearly, unquestionably, conspicuously missing from her mind.

And that left her feeling about as easy as a duck stuck in a dry pond.

Rogue stretched, rolling her shoulders and kneading at a small knot that had formed in her lower back. She groaned, dropping the coat on the seat before her, and Remy raised an eyebrow.

"Don’t say it," she muttered, waving him off before he could comment. Knowing him, he’d probably offer to give her a massage or something equally ludicrous.

The guy just didn’t get it.

Remy shrugged and rolled his wrists. "If y’ knew what dese hands could do t’ y’..." he trailed off, smirking slyly.

Really didn’t get it.

"Ya know what my skin can do to ya," she threatened, albeit half-heartedly.

He hadn’t stopped badgering her, and it was beginning to take its toll. Thankfully, since their little exchange at the diner when she’d yanked him into the table, he’d backed off some. He hadn’t tried to touch her since that morning, for which Rogue was grateful. However, that didn’t resolve the slight problem of sitting on the back of a bike practically curled up against the swamp rat for the better part of the afternoon.

He’d pick pocketed the keys to the bike without her even knowing he’d slipped them from her belt.

As such, Rogue had struggled to keep two inches between them for the better part of the day, and at speeds that nearly broke the sound barrier, it had done a number to her muscles. Everything ached. It was small price to pay, all things considered, but sitting behind him gave her far too much opportunity to have her nose filled with the heady scent of his cologne. Dark musk, bitter clove, and dry tobacco swirled around her pleasantly, fading a little as the day wore on and the sun grew hotter.

It was a warm, feral smell that tingled the sinus and wrapped around the bike like a pair of heavy limbs. At one point, she caught herself leaning into him just a little while trying to place it. It wasn’t a commercial brand, for which she was grateful. He at least had some taste.

Thankfully, he hadn’t caught her sniffing at him. She’d never hear the end of it.

Were that not insult to injury enough, she’d memorized the positioning of each and every sliding, sinuous bit of muscle on his back, his arms, and neck - from the slight flex of his triceps when he urged the throttle, to the graceful shifts his body would make when leaning into a turn and skirting around other, slower vehicles.

She was still presently trying to convince herself that it had only been out of utter boredom that she’d done so.

A girl could only count the stripes on the road for so long.

Sure, that was it.

"I know," he replied after a long moment.

Remy threw her a lazy grin, as if to say he actually enjoyed the prospect of being knocked unconscious. There was, however, the slight loophole that he could touch her now, albeit briefly. But if what the Professor had said was true, the possibility of having his shield fail if he did was too risky.

Rogue shivered, trying to repress the unease with a scowl. She wouldn’t even begin to entertain the idea, she swore to herself.

It was better this way. It always was.

She slid into his seat and fixed the best possible sneer to her face. "Ah think it’s a disease ya got, Cajun."

He looked as if he were about to retort, opening his mouth and snapping it shut promptly.

"Dis is taking too long," Remy muttered, changing the subject. He kicked his staff into the air and leapt onto the rail. Landing nimbly, crouched, he soon stood to full height while using the staff to balance himself.

"Gambit!" Rogue yelled, watching as he wobbled exaggeratedly as he leaned over to peer into the darkness below the bridge.

"Merde, m’ legs are stiff." He threw her a grimace, followed quickly by a wink as he straightened again and began bouncing along the beam.

"Ya darn fool Cajun! Get down here this instant!" she shouted, leaping off the bike. If he fell, she’d be the one leaping into the lake below to save his sorry hide and frankly, she reasoned, he’d probably float with that over-inflated head of his anyway. The thought brightened her, a little.

"Ah ha!" he called, pivoting on his toes and slinking backwards. He spun the staff in front of him over one knuckle, caught it, and then spun it the other way - changing the balance of his weight without as much as tilting with the force of his swing. His steps were sure, but Rogue couldn’t help the slight twinge of embarrassment at her immediate response. "Y’ do care what happens t’ dis ol’ scoundrel. I knew it!"

"Are ya suicidal or something? Ah am not gonna dive into that lake ta fish ya out! Get down, now!" she barked, advancing on him.

Chuckling, he spun the staff again with a large grin. The weapon rolled over his shoulders, beneath one arm, and continued the motion in a figure eight across his chest — above one arm, behind the shoulder, across his chest, behind the other shoulder, and back to the front. Rogue watched his calves flex, the taut lines drawn across his thighs - and shook herself promptly.

Show off.

"Come and get m’," he taunted.

Rogue swallowed, peeking over the ledge again. She could pull at his legs, but she doubted she could support his weight if he went over.

She was spared the necessity of an impromptu rescue as three sharp clangs echoed from a few yards away. The sound reverberated along the rail, and Remy spun with a flourish on his toes, his staff singing as he swept it before and behind him.

Rogue had all of three seconds to appraise the firm butt he presented to her, flush brightly, and turn away stiffly before he noticed.

Damnit.

"Je m’excuse, chérie," Remy grinned in profile, peering at the short figure that stood opposing him. "Dere are some traditions y’ gotta respect when y’ go home. Dis is one of dem."

He banged his staff against the rail three times in response, once to his right, once to his left, and once in front of him as he dropped into a full squat.

"Putain de merde!" was the response he received from the man silhouetted against the backdrop of the city. "T’es pas bien serieux! Remy?"

"Salut Lapin! Y’ miss me?"

"Bof! Dis is stupid. Whaddefuck y’ t’ink y’ doin’?"

"M’ home, Lapin. Officially."

"F’ now!"

"F’ now."

"Cause y’ ain’t gonna leave dis city alive if y’ t’ink y’ gonna do dis!"

"J’ai pu d’choix," Remy called back. "Lessgo, mon ami. En guard."

"Eusti tabarnac," the figure huffed. "M’ not doin’ dis!"

"Y’ always were de stubborn one!"

"Ha! Y’ not de one who’s gonna have t’ report back t’ Jean Luc tomorrow!"

"Y’ not de one who’s been hiding under his nose f’ six months!" Remy shot back.

"Quoi? Caulisse..."

"Stop running dat foul mouth o’ yours! Dere’s a lady present!" Remy chortled, throwing a glance at Rogue. "Sort of."

Rogue merely shook her head, regarding the other man warily. At this distance, he was little more than a blackened shadow, a barely distinguishable lump set against the backdrop of the city.

"Well! Dat’s all very good. ’Scuze, mam’selle, but did y’ know dat Monsieur LeBeau over dere’s de biggest coyoon dis side o’ de Mississippi?" the man named Lapin called.

"Ah sorta guessed that!" Rogue called, folding her arms and stalking forwards to better see Remy’s expression. "What’s he talking about?"

"Mmm," Remy paused, scrunching his nose comically. "Y’ know dat t’ing I told y’ about Jean Luc kicking m’ out?"

"Kicked y’ out?" Lapin bellowed, moving closer along the beam, a hint of hysteria evident in his throaty laugh. "Dat’s a lot softer den de terms Marius used!"

"Cajun?" Rogue pressed warningly.

"S’ a long story, chére..." Remy murmured. Rogue opened her mouth to object, fully aware that he was avoiding her again when Remy shouted, "Lapin! Shut y’ mouth and fight before I shut it for y’!"

"Fine!" The figure straightened, puffing himself up. "Fine!" he said again as if reassuring himself.

"Observe de formalities, Emil Lapin," Remy chastised lightly, grinning. Rogue watched as, with careless grace, Remy’s staff sung through the air again. Cautiously, she took a step backwards to avoid being clipped by the weapon.

"Merde," Lapin muttered again. "Do y’ who seek entry t’ de crescent city live beneath de law?"

"I do," Remy answered.

"De law of whom?"

"De law of de T’ieves."

"To whom do y’ answer?"

"T’ m’self," Remy returned cheekily.

Lapin stomped on the beam, causing it to shudder with several muted clangs. "Dat’s not right, Remy!"

Remy snorted. "T’ m’ father, Jean Luc LeBeau," he corrected smartly.

"F’ what business do y’ come t’ de Guild?"

"I don’t."

"Quoi?"

"Just do y’ t’ing, Lapin. M’ not here f’ dat sort of dealing."

"Den what de fuck are y’ here for?" he cried, exasperated.

"M’ here t’ pay m’ debts," Remy returned clearly, his voice ringing over the quiet bridge. He glanced at Rogue briefly. "T’ old friends."

"Y’ gotta be kiddin’ me! ’Scuze encore, mam’selle, but I hope y’ worth the trouble!" Lapin called. "T’ enter de city, y’ must prove y’self worthy of y’ forebears. Stand down now or fight de bridge’s keeper t’ gain passage. How do y’ answer?"

Remy yawned hugely, making a big show of stretching his arms over his head.

"M’ tired Lapin, lessgo!"

Lapin muttered another string of muffled curses and straightened up. Even at this distance, Rogue could hear the whoosh of air around the smaller man. It appeared that he possessed a weapon similar to Remy’s.

Then he charged.

It happened so fast that Rogue nearly missed it - Remy leapt up as the Lapin ran at him, the pair meeting at a midpoint between each other. The resounding clang of two adamantium quarterstaffs meeting forcefully echoed across the overpass.

The pair parried, Remy moving backwards with light steps, until they settled beneath a streetlight to duel. Rogue, moving closer, could barely track their movements as the two brought their staffs together - over, under, to the side, Remy leapt and landed in one fluid motion as Lapin tried to sweep his legs out from under him. Gambit back flipped, one hand on the rail, and mimicked the motion. The smaller man, Lapin, yelped and jammed his staff diagonally into the rail to keep from tipping over. The two staffs caught again, and Remy laughed aloud.

"Y’ getting slow, old man!"

In response, Lapin grunted and tugged on his bo. The scrape of metal was audible. Rogue winced as Remy tapped him in the knee, and Lapin brought his own staff down over his head.

What happened next would have been unbelievable if Rogue hadn’t witnessed it herself. Remy launched from beneath Lapin’s leg, fingers grappling around one of the man’s ankles, and swung out over the lake - one leg tucked beneath him and the other sailing before him in an arc. He landed on the rail a few feet away, his staff swinging behind him and catching Lapin in the knee, toppling him to the hard shoulder of the bridge below.

The entire exchange had taken no less than a minute and a half.

"Dat’s not fair," Lapin grunted, rolling onto his back - his staff clattering over to the toes of Rogue’s boots. "I taught y’ dat."

"T’ink Henri might argue dat," Remy chuckled, gripping Lapin’s forearm and helping him stand.

The two stared at each other a moment before embracing in the most testosterone-filled hug Rogue had ever seen, complete with backslapping and several muffled niceties.

She repressed a snort and plucked the quarterstaff from the ground. It grated against the concrete noisily.

"Rogue," Remy said, dragging the stockier man along, his arm slung around his shoulders. "Meet m’ cousin, Lapin."

"Mon dieu," Lapin murmured. "Now I see what all de fuss is about." He beamed, displaying a row of perfectly pearlescent teeth, and broke free of Remy’s amicable hold. Lapin swooped before her in a deep bow, made lower by the fact that he was barely taller than she was.

Delicately, he grasped three fingers of her hand and planted a light kiss on her gloved knuckles. She tried not to flinch, though her initial response was to pull back on her arm. Lapin didn’t seem to notice, and if he did, he didn’t acknowledge it, much to her relief.

"Enchanté madamoiselle," he purred, standing up. "Emil Lapin at y’ service."

He was a head shorter than Remy, built a little more stoutly with thicker arms and wider shoulders. His hair was a spiky shock of orange under the lamplight, and the corners of his eyes crinkled a little as he smiled at her.

Rogue blushed and pulled her hand away. "Ah see the charm is a family thing," she muttered uncomfortably, handing Lapin his weapon.

Lapin scrubbed at his chin, digging his clipped nails into a rough swatch of ginger-colored beard, and peering up at Remy as he tapped the staff down into a more manageable size with his free hand.

"Non, de pichouette here had t’ learn it from somewhere." He puffed his chest theatrically. "Remy copied de best," he finished, brushing his nails against his chest and blowing on them.

Remy sniggered. "Dat’s a bold-faced lie, mon ami. Y’ couldn’t get a date f’ de life of y’ until y’ started hanging ’round me."

"M’ almost offended. If I didn’t know ’bout dat mutation of his," he said to Rogue, "I’d say Remy was almost a natural." Lapin chuckled, ignoring the look his cousin wore. "He used t’ have de girls eatin’ out of his palm. Dis one time, we were down on Canal at dis dive, he started doing dis funny t’ing with his eyes; dey got all glowy. Turns out he was hypnotizin’ ’em... Now y’ tell me, how’s dat fair f’ de rest of us, ein?"

Rogue turned to Gambit, eyebrows raised.

He grinned slyly at her expression.

So that’s how he’d convinced her, she thought. The damned swamp rat had turned on the charm, and now there was a large hunk of her memories blurred together where there should have been a clear visual of Rogue cracking him in the skull and refusing to leave with him.

As if reading her reaction, Remy murmured, "Won’t do it again, chérie. Scout’s honor."

Lapin snorted, missing their shared exchange entirely. "When were y’ ever a Boy Scout? Did y’ know," Lapin turned to Rogue again, who continued glaring at Remy over Lapin’s shoulder, "dat de only badge dis poor fool’s got is in lock picking? I don’ t’ink dey teach dat t’ Boy Scouts dese days." He clucked, and added in an undertone, "Tante Mattie made it f’ him one day when he was ten so he wouldn’t feel bad."

"Merci, Lapin," Remy muttered stiffly.

Lapin snickered and then turned serious. "How de hell m’ I supposed t’ explain dis t’ Jean Luc?"

Remy shrugged. "Don’t."

To Rogue it seemed that he relaxed a little at the change of conversation. It really didn’t make much difference to his outward appearance; everything he did was already nonchalant. His movements, from the slight slouch to his shoulders, to the easy folding of his arms across his chest were sinuous, careless. He appeared to be at ease with everything - even when she was snapping at him.

"Tch! Y’ know I can’t defy de laws o’ de Guild," Lapin muttered. "It’ll be m’ head instead o’ yours. Belle’s already on de warpath, and y’ know it."

Remy sighed, looking up at the night sky and squinting. Somehow, even when looking bored, Gambit maintained an air of grace that even Jean couldn’t match.

"She giving y’ problems, still?"

Lapin snorted. "Problems? Problems! Dere’s a war goin’ on between de families, Rem, and it’s y’ fault, so don’ play stupid with me!"

Rogue coughed politely.

"’Scuze, mam’selle. But y’ friend here, as I said before, likes draggin’ trouble behind him."

"Wasn’t m’ fault," Remy said evenly, lowering his eyes and smirking at her, as if sharing an inside joke that only she could pick up on. She’s heard that before; in fact, she’d lost track of the number of times that something ’wasn’t Remy’s fault’ over the course of the last forty-eight hours.

"Non," Lapin held up his hands, shaking his head, completely oblivious. "It was Julien’s but he’s not here t’ defend himself, ein? Marius don’t care. Belle don’t care. Dey just wanted justice, and dey had dat f’ a year. Y’ comin’ back here breaks de pact."

Rogue watched the exchange silently. Remy cleared his throat.

"I told y’, I been here six months, mebbe more."

"Right under dere noses?" Lapin asked with a touch of incredulity.

"S’ de safest place, non?" Remy countered. Rogue stifled a snort. It figured that he would use that sort of logic. It was almost crazy enough to make sense, or perhaps, that was just Gambit’s preoccupation with the hazardous peeking through. Rogue was beginning to see a pattern.

"Smack in de middle of de danger, oui?" Lapin chuckled. "No wonder Jean Luc’s been so uptight."

"He knew," Remy added carelessly, shifting his weight to his other foot as if the conversation was old news.

"Dat much m’ guessin’. Didn’t bat an eye when his bike went missin’ four days ago," Lapin snorted. His expression sobered, turning into an indignant pout. "Y’ didn’t tell me. All dis time I been bored shitless wit’ Henri and Theoren, an’ y’ were here!" he huffed.

Remy ignored his complaint. "Belle too?" he asked. "She know?"

Lapin shook his head. "Don’t t’ink so. Y’ don’t wanna know what Belle’s gonna do when she hears about dis."

"Don’t care what Belle t’inks," Remy muttered.

Rogue raised an eyebrow. Catching her eye, Remy merely shook his head, silently pleading that she didn’t get involved in the conversation.

"Belle?" she mouthed sardonically. Something caught in her chest, a little snag she chose at that very moment to ignore with some force.

Remy pursed his lips, and mouthed back, "Jealous?"

Rogue rolled her eyes, swallowing a nervous laugh though she could feel the heat rise to her face. "Not surprised," she mouthed back with a smirk of her own.

Remy cocked an eyebrow, dropping his gaze suggestively, and peering up at her from beneath his lashes. He wet his lips, slowly, and against her better judgment, Rogue’s line of sight was drawn to the little tip of pink that left a trail of moisture behind on his lips.

She repressed the urge to bear her teeth as she returned to herself.

Lapin continued with forced lightness, unaware of their silent exchange. "Den I suppose y’ don’t care t’ know what she did when she got de papers y’ sent her?"

"Lapin," Remy said warningly, his attention snapping to his cousin. Perhaps there was more to this ’Belle’ character than Remy was willing to let on.

Rogue cleared her throat, not willing to be an oblivious bystander any longer than she had to be, and still trying to feign indifference. "Papers?"

"Not important," Remy interjected, slapping Lapin on the shoulder and gripping him hard enough to make him wince. Rogue snapped her head around so quickly that her neck cracked. She glared at Remy, who matched her gaze evenly, though a muscle in his jaw began twitching.

"T’ank y’, Lapin," he ground out, his gaze not leaving Rogue’s. "Y’ put out de word dat m’ home. Y’ don’t know where m’ staying. Y’ don’t know why m’ here."

"Remy, I don’t t’ink y’ understand - dere have been attacks from both families," Lapin hastened to add.

"Den dey’ve already broken de treaty. M’ presence here shouldn’t make any difference," he said offhandedly.

Gambit released him, giving his cousin a faint but reassuring smile. Rogue turned on her heel, already stalking back to the bike. She couldn’t hear his footfalls, but instinctively, Rogue knew if she turned she’d find him close on her heels. Already, she sensed his slow smoldering appraisal - it made the down on the back of her neck prickle, though not unpleasantly.

"S’ war, Remy!" Lapin called. "Dey don’t care whose blood gets spilled, de streets are runnin’ with it already. Dey called in Marius! Don’t y’ understand?"

"De whole clan’s back in town. I get it." Gambit waved him off, picking up his trench coat and glancing at Rogue. She bit down on the inside of her mouth and mentally ran through the information she’d been exposed to against Gambit’s will.

"Dey reinstated de name!" Lapin called. "De Assassins Guild is unified again, de Rippers answering t’ Marius Boudreaux!"

Rogue pulled herself onto the back of the motorcycle, and stopped, eyes widening as Remy shook his head, taking the seat in front of her. "Assassins?" she hissed.

Gambit nodded, quirking an eyebrow. "Y’ afraid?"

Rogue bristled, balling her hands into fists on her knees. "Do I sound like Ah’m afraid? Why didn’t ya tell me?"

"S’ not y’ problem," he replied evenly, slipping the key into the ignition and starting the engine.

"It is my problem since ya brought me here. Ya knew?" She laughed mirthlessly. "Of course ya did. What did ya mean by getting ’kicked out’ exactly?"

He shifted, lifting the kickstand with his heel.

"Exile," he murmured.

Rogue snorted. "The hell did ya do ta get exiled?"

Gambit paused, turning his head to the side a little so Rogue could see his profile against the streetlights, but not his expression. "I’ll show y’," he replied after a moment. "If y’ let me."

Rogue stiffened. Were they back to the touching thing again? She leaned around him a little to see his face. Remy didn’t blink; his eyes were a smoldering, intense glow beneath the shadows cast by the streetlight behind him. His mouth was set in a grim line, and his expression was determined.

It frightened her a little, though she would never admit that willingly. Gambit continued to stare at her intently as if daring her to respond or daring her to back off. One or the other, it came to same thing - a little bit more of the truth. If he couldn’t put it to words, it didn’t mean he wasn’t entirely unwilling to face it, she surmised.

She still had to collect on their little card game from the diner that morning, she reminded herself.

Slowly, Rogue nodded.

"Baby steps," she murmured, settling back into her seat.

In front of her, Remy snorted. "Dey throw them into de bayou an’ force ’em t’ swim before dey can walk ’round here."

"No wonder yo’ the way ya are - ya’ll were deprived of oxygen to the brain as a child. Did ya sink like a stone, Cajun, or are ya just getting my hopes up?"

"You are so cruel t’ me," he pouted, clutching his trench coat closer to his chest. "Tomorrow, how ’bout y’ and me test dat theory, hmm?"

"Ya plan on showing me the swamps?" she asked, surprised.

Gambit grinned over his shoulder at her. He whispered huskily. "M’ gonna show y’ a whole lotta t’ings."

Rogue fought back a snide retort as Lapin approached them.

He peered at her over Remy’s shoulder, rubbing the back of his neck absently.

"Eh, Remy? Sais-tu si c’été une bonne idée de chicaner au presence de la femme? Je n’ai pas vue déja, tu sais? Sont les lumières du pont..."

Rogue ducked her head, biting her lower lip. Remy shifted a little on the seat in front of her again, the bike dipping as his lifted the kickstand with his heel. Vaguely, Rogue wondered if he was feeling just as stiff as she was from their long ride.

She peeked at him in the rear-view; he was watching her, a small grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"Y’ asking me dis now?" Remy chuckled, turning back to his cousin. "T’as raison, Lapin. Mais peut-être tu pouvais me demander en avance si j’étais avec quel’qu’un. Ce n’est pas exactement polis de..."

"...Parler une langue que je compreds pour essayer de me confusez," Rogue finished for him. Lapin flushed. "Ah took three years of French in school." She shrugged. "It’s fine, sugah," she continued. "Remy’s gonna tell me all about it, ain’t he?" She smirked. "We ain’t got no secrets," she goaded.

Gambit cocked an eyebrow. "Y’ called me by name dat time and I didn’t have t’ make y’ feel guilty t’ do it."

"Cajun," she warned. Realization struck her, and she swatted at him. "Ya did that ’poor me’ bit this morning on purpose!"

"Got y’ outta Pennsylvania, though," he mused. "And technically, it was yesterday morning, seeing as how it’s four thirty and all."

"Ah swear if ya don’t start playing it straight Ah gonna -"

Lapin cleared his throat, bouncing on the balls of his feet to get their attention.

"S’ not gonna happen, mam’selle. Remy’s as crooked as dey can get, an’ y’ haven’t seen him drinkin’ yet, I’ll wager." He frowned. "Don’ give him vodka; he gets ugly." He shuddered.

"Lapin!" Remy coughed, muffling the sound with his fist.

Lapin puffed out his chest, his hands on his hips. "I like her." He nodded at Rogue. "She don’t sound like she gonna put up with y’ shit. S’ about time someone set y’ hobblin’ in a straight line."

Rogue smiled a little at Lapin, who winked.

"If y’ get him t’ crawl, I want pictures," Lapin whispered loudly, quickly mimicking the action of a camera being snapped with his hands.

"Stop y’ conspiring. We gotta go," Remy muttered. "S’ too damn late t’ get picked apart by y’ two. Call Tante f’ me, would y’?"

Lapin rolled his eyes, stalking off to collect his staff from the ground a few feet away.

"She ain’t gonna do nothin’ f’ you at dis hour, Rem."

"S’il-vous-plait?" Remy flashed him a winning smile. Rogue stifled a yawn. "We got a busy day tomorrow... today."

Lapin waved it off. "It ain’t tomorrow ’til de sun comes up."

Remy sighed hugely. "Same difference, Lapin."

"Den y’ll see Tante first t’ing demain matin." He nodded firmly, moving to the guardrail. "She know where t’ find y’?"

"Always, mon ami," Remy grinned. Lapin merely rolled his eyes.

"Y’ watch him." Lapin pointed to Rogue, then pointed at Remy. "He knows dat he’s bein’ stupid goin’ back home. So if he dies?" He flashed her a bright smile. "Y’ can always come visit m’."

Rogue chuckled. "Thanks, sugah. Ah’ll keep that in mind - especially if Ah just happen ta be the one who takes him out first."

Lapin whistled, placing a hand on the rail and hefting himself over the steel divider. "I’ll be waiting den." He blew her a kiss and waggled his eyebrows at Remy, who pulled a card, charged it, and sent it sailing in Lapin’s direction.

Lapin yipped, and a moment later, he disappeared beneath the small explosion.

"Oh my gawd!" Rogue cried. "What did ya do that for?"

Remy gunned the engine, tearing back out onto the causeway. He pointed across his chest to a small speck climbing a lamppost at least a quarter-mile away.

"Dere’s a reason his last name’s Lapin," he said.

"Rabbit?" Rogue asked, leaning with the bike as Remy switched lanes sharply.

"Emil? He’s just as quick as one," Remy returned with a grin.

As they passed below the lamppost, Lapin waved at them from his perch. Though they could not hear it over the purr of the Harley, Emil was muttering to himself, already faced with the dilemma of calling Jean Luc and reporting in.

He fiddled with the small, sleek cell phone in his gloved hand, twirling it absently as the pair continued onwards into the city. After a moment of consideration, he slipped it back into a concealed pocket in his boot.

They could use a few hours peace, he reasoned. He’d inform Jean Luc of his son’s arrival in the morning. In the meantime, Lapin hoped they wouldn’t run into anyone unwelcome before daybreak.

---

Post Script:

- House Rules: (Gambling) Rules, especially betting, agreed upon by the players.

- "We are all children in some way, Wolverine. It is simply a matter to whom." Anyone get this? I’m really miffed at the fact that I can’t explore Storm and Remy’s relationship in the Evo context, because there simply isn’t enough of a timeframe to do it in a manner that would be plausible. In comicverse, once upon a time, Gambit saved Storm when she was reverted to child form by Nanny. (UXM #266-267) The entire incident led to a crime spree in Louisiana, and subsequently, to Gambit joining the X-Men for the first time once Storm was restored to her adult self. Comparatively, you could also take this statement made by Storm as a reference to her past as a Goddess. That is, thankfully, skimmed over a bit in Evo. (Child of nature/child of mother earth is implied.)

-"Rich gifts wax poor when givers prove unkind." (Hamlet, William Shakespeare)

- Remy’s Cologne: Huh. Well, what can I say? I’m a Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab girl at heart, and that, my dear friends is why I’m dropping one huge, obvious reference to their scent, Dracul. If you’ve never visited to Lab, shame on you - www(dot)blackphoenixalchemylab(dot)com. It is not an obsession, it is an addiction. Dracul is described as "Black musk, tobacco, fir, balsam of peru, cumin, bitter clove, crushed mint, and orange blossom." It’s an olfactory orgasm.

Translations: English to German

meine schwester: my sister

Translations: English to French

Demain matin: Tomorrow morning

Eusti tabarnac: (Esti tabarnac) It’s a religious oath. Won’t make much sense when directly translated. I think this is actually way more Quebecois than Cajun French.

J’ai pu d’choix: I don’t have a choice

Mon ami: my friend

...Parler une langue que je compreds pour essayer de me confusez: Speak another language that I understand to try and confuse me.

Putain de merde: (Equivalent of) fucking shit. Also, loosely, son of a whore.

Sais-tu si c’etait une bonne idée de chicaner au presence de la femme? Je n’ai pas vue déja, tu sais? Sont les lumières du pont...: You think it’s a good idea that we talked about that in front of the girl? I didn’t see her before, you know. It’s the bridge lights...

Salut: Hi

Sil-vous-plait: Please

T’as raison, Lapin. Mais peut-être tu pouvais me demander en avance si j’estais avec quel’qu’un. Ce n’est pas exactement polis de...: Good point, Lapin. But maybe you should have asked me first if I was with someone. It’s not exactly polite to...

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