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Origins	By : jukeboxcsi Category: X-men Comics > Slash - Male/Male > Remy/Logan Views: 15872 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own X-Men comics, or any of the characters from it. I make no money from from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Author's Note
- 2-Ch 1
- 3-Ch 2
- 4-Ch 3
- 5-Ch 4
- 6-Ch 5
- 7-Ch 6
- 8-Ch 7
- 9-Ch 8
- 10-Ch 9
- 11-Ch 10
- 12-Ch 11
- 13-Ch 12
- 14-Ch 13
- 15-Ch 14
- 16-Ch 15
- 17-Ch 16
- 18-Ch 17
- 19-Ch 18
- 20-Ch 19
- 21-Ch 20
- 22-Ch 21
- 23-Ch 22
- 24-Ch 23
- 25-Ch 24
- 26-Ch 25
- 27-Ch 26
- 28-Ch 27
- 29-Ch 28
- 30-Ch 29
- 31-Ch 30
- 32-Ch 31
- 33-Ch 32
- 34-Ch 33
- 28
- 29
- 30
Reviewer Response
Rachael and Zuzanny - thank you both for sticking with the story and reviewing
after the chapters. It means so very much to receive encouragement. *hugs* I
hadn't planned to go into any more of Remy's childhood than what's already been
revealed. And Magneto's conscious is a frigid place indeed. But, Sinister's
is just outright scary LOL
Aries28 - *blush* Thank you! This is also my favorite pairing in the fandom.
Anon, Romanticfae, and Shadowcat - I really appreciate you taking time to let
me know how much you love the story. :^D
I do apologize that so much time has passed since the last update, and hope
you won't be disappointed in this chapter. There's only a few chapters left
in the story - maybe 4ish. RL is a bit overbearing at the moment, but I hope
there won't be as long a wait for the next update.
Special thank you to BJ. As you recommended hun, I didn't change a word. *big
hug*
See primary disclaimers, notes, and warnings in first chapter.
Notes #2: Death of minor OC's in this chapter, descriptions of violent death
& some gore. Possible incorrect science facts within the chapter - I'm not
a medical person and the information listed came from various websites. Possible
incorrect use of nerve pinching technique. I was too lazy to look it up, so
I went with Mr. Spock's version of the Vulcan nerve pinch.
Ch 28
The dream had the essence of familiarity. It swirled around him in black, white,
and shades of gray. There was no color to be found, only pockets of fog and
smoke as he drifted through a seemingly endless void. Periodically, there were
snatches of scenes at the edge of his peripheral vision, enough to catch his
attention but gone as soon as he turned to look more closely. In front of him,
a life-sized playing card appeared and hovered slightly above the obscure ground.
It was the king of diamonds, the only one of that face card in profile and armed
with an ax instead of a sword. The one eye shined a brilliant red, as did the
diamonds, and the Cajun froze in his spot. Remy knew this place. It was his
memories of the past, but it wasn’t. It was his hopes and fantasies, but
not. It was a landscape of his creation, yet artificially planted. And it could
mean only one thing – his master was here.
Standing perfectly still on an ever shifting foundation, Remy closed his eyes
and whispered. “Maître”.
“Very good. You’re getting much better at detecting my presence.”
An image of Sinister stepped from the shadows of the card and smirked down at
the boy in front of him. It was always such in the dreams, his master towering
over him like some kind of demigod. “But, I’m rather disappointed
at the ease with which I penetrated your shields, boy. Pray tell, are you having
troubles controlling yourself?” He asked with a clinical note, ready to
record data with all the interest of a researcher. “Describe the problems
to me in great detail, would you?”
A dark ribbon rippled through the nebulous fog surrounding them as Remy gritted
his teeth and said nothing. Sinister smiled a full set of gleaming, sharp teeth
as he watched the interesting effect of the boy’s anger on this mindscape.
He moved as if gliding on air until he stood shoulder to shoulder with his toy,
facing the opposite direction and eyeing the terrain as if searching for something.
In retrospect, he probably was, Remy mused. “My, my. Even with your lowered
shields, I am still unable to access all of your thoughts.” Essex reached
out with one claw-like metallic hand and touched the wisps of fog surrounding
them, as if he could grab hold of the cloud-like mists and absorb the boy’s
mind. “I must arrange some time for you to join me in the lab. It’s
been far too long since I’ve done any measurements. Now that the blocks
have been mostly weakened or removed, I’m anxious to try all sorts of
tests.”
Remy’s mental body shuddered at the underlying glee in his master’s
tone, dreading the day the man carried out his promise. To find himself on Essex’s
operating table was a fate worse than death, and one he had experienced too
many times. Sinister continued to study the dreamscape surrounding them, peering
intently into the murk to try and glimpse different bits or pieces of memory.
There was a tense silence between them for many long minutes before the master
spoke again. “Tell me, Remy. Why did I have to endure an audience with
a rather agitated Lensherr?” Essex turned his head to peer at the boy
beside him. “He seemed quite adamant that you are purposefully failing
at your mission. Is this true?”
The illusory tongue in his mouth seemed overly large and cumbersome as Remy
attempted to project a stuttering answer. “N…non.”
The intense scrutiny from the scientist made his corporal skin itch and it
took all of Remy’s concentration to keep his dream self from trembling.
“I am somewhat disappointed, but not at all surprised that you are having
difficulty with the assignment.” Essex scolded. “One of your many
flaws has always been your tendency to empathize with your victims, until their
story becomes your crusade. It makes you weak and keeps you from ascending to
a level I know you are capable of.”
An imaginary muscle twitched in the jaw of Remy’s mental image as he
forced himself not to respond. Sinister’s projected image continued to
move around the landscape, pausing in intervals to gaze intently into the darkened
recesses. The air that wasn’t truly there seemed to crackle with his presence,
surrounding and contracting around Remy’s mindself tensely like a snake
wraps around to strangle its prey. The longer the scientist loitered about,
ignoring Remy and speaking not a word, the larger the knot of apprehension grew
within the pit of his stomach. It made the muscles of his real world body twitch
as if caught in the grips of a nightmare. Finally, Essex turned his full attention
to the image of his toy. Many people had called Remy a white devil when he was
a boy; preternatural eyes giving him the appearance of one. But, the glow of
his red orbs paled in comparison to the brilliance that shown from the scientist’s
when he was truly angered.
“When I have given one of my servants over to an associate to perform
a task of their choosing, I expect my servant to fulfill those duties to that
associate's satisfaction and beyond.” the man began, his mind voice unnaturally
calm as he loomed over Remy, “I loaned your services to Lensherr, and
your failure to satisfy his needs reflects directly on me.” The mindscape
rippled under the deep baritone of his voice as Essex glared at the boy.
They stood there, staring at one another for what seemed an eternity before
Sinister turned his back on Remy and began moving towards the large playing
card that represented the doorway to Remy’s mind. At the threshold of
the shadow of the card, Essex paused and glanced back at the Cajun over his
shoulder. “Perhaps you have been too distracted to perform the job you
have been given. I believe the only way you'll learn a lesson on obedience is
if those distractions are removed.” For a brief moment, memories flickered
around Remy as Essex disappeared through the doorway. He caught snatches of
the scenes before they faded into the background of his waking conscious.

Remy eyes flew open and he gasped, one arm outstretched and reaching for the
ceiling as his eyes slowly focused into awareness. The sound of his frantic
heartbeats thundered in his ears as sweat beaded on his forehead. What had happened?
Even as he reached for the last vestiges of the dream, it was already lost to
him. What had it been about? All he could recall was cold fear, and a sense
of failure. For some reason, there was an anxious feeling, as if something desperately
needed his attention before it was too late. Like an itch that couldn’t
be scratched, he could not put a finger on what was causing the anxiety. Looking
around, it took him a moment to realize he was in his room at the mansion. As
he started to sit up, a knock on the door took his attention a moment before
it opened to reveal the feral entering the room with a tray of food.
Logan paused at the slightly panicked look on the boy’s face. “Hey”
he said softly before moving to put the tray on the nightstand. He sat down
on the edge of the bed and slowly reached up to place the back of his hand against
Remy’s forehead, careful not to startle the Cajun. “How ya feeling?”
Clearing his throat, Remy leaned back against the headboard. “Tired.”
He didn’t expect the older man to snort at him. “Well, seein’
as ya been asleep for damn near two days, I’m a bit surprised to hear
that.” Logan registered the shock on the Cajun’s face, then gave
him a reassuring smile. “Here, ya need to eat somethin’.”
“Two days? Two days!?” Remy repeated. “How did…merde,
de damn aspirin. I tol’ you.”
It was hard for Logan to suppress a chuckle at the pouting scowl on the boy’s
face. As it was, he continued to grin like a Cheshire cat. But, a quick reminder
of the worry he’d felt when the boy didn’t wake up after a day made
his smile fade, and he reached for the plate of food to hand Remy. “I
know what ya said. I ain’t gonna apologize for that, not when it was obvious
that ya needed it.” He glared at Remy until the boy started to eat.
It didn’t take long for Remy’s stomach to overrule his irritation,
and he dove into the food with gusto. In between bites, Remy did a quick survey
of his body to find that he was relatively clean, despite being dead to the
world for two days. The human body still has needs that must be met. Remy glanced
up at the feral, slightly embarrassed to ask the questions that were on his
mind. Logan seemed to understand. “It wasn’t a problem. I took care
of everything while you were out.”
Remy paused in his eating, not quite able to look in the older man’s
eyes. “T’anks, mon ami.”
“Well, don’t thank me just yet.” At the startled expression
on the kid’s face, Logan quickly explained. “I was worried ‘bout
ya, Remy. I had Blue come in and check on ya.” As he watched the Cajun’s
face drain of color, Logan sighed in frustration. “Look, I’m sorry,
kid. But, I wanted to make sure I hadn’t overdosed ya. Hank’s a
good man. I trust ‘im.”
Remy swallowed hard. “Wha…what’id he say?”
“That you’d be sore a coupla days, but no real damage.” Logan
reached out and brushed back some of the stray locks that fell in Remy’s
face, much as he’d been doing the whole time he stood guard over the boy.
Blue eyes dilated and a warm feeling suffused the feral’s chest as he
watched the Cajun subtly turn his face into the caress. “Remy…..I…”
/Gambit, now that you are awake, I need to see you alone in my office as
soon as you are able./
Logan and Remy both stiffened at the mental summons from the Professor. They
stared at one another for a few moments before Logan stood and offered a hand
to the Cajun. “C’mon, a shower’d make ya feel better.”
And the feral was right. The spray of the water as it beat down on his back
and shoulders did wonders to loosen up his stiff muscles. The steam rising from
the heat suffused his nose and mouth, and he breathed deep, allowing the moist
warmth to travel deep into his lungs. He struggled to remember those last few
moments before he woke. It was a nagging sensation at the base of his skull,
demanding his attention yet remaining elusive. A heavy sigh and one last rinse
was all he could give himself before reaching to turn off the flow. Short work
was made of drying his skin and hair before donning some clothes to head for
the Professor’s study.
Despite his best efforts to trudge slowly down the stairs and along the hallway,
he was, all too soon, faced with the heavy wooden door that lead to Xavier’s
domain. Before he could raise his hand to knock, he heard the Professor call
to him. Nervous knots formed in his belly at the anticipated lecture. He didn’t
recall much of the argument from, was it two days ago? It was a bit hard to
believe that he had slept so deeply for that length of time. As much as he wanted
to worry about the telepaths reading his thoughts while he was essentially comatose,
he trusted his lover when the older man promised to shield him. That, in itself,
gave him pause. Since when had Remy trusted anyone?
The door opened with the turn of the knob and Remy stepped inside. It took
him a moment to overcome his surprise at what awaited him. The Professor sat
behind his desk, elbows resting on the desk and his hands steepled in front
of his face as he stared at the Cajun. Standing to the Professor’s right,
holding a folder in one giant hand, was Hank.
“Please, sit down Remy.” Xavier gestured toward one of the chairs
in front of the desk. Remy moved to the indicated spot and made himself as comfortable
as possible while he waited for whatever scolding he presumed he was about to
receive. He glanced a few times in the doctor’s direction, but Hank was
focused on a spot on the Professor’s desk, his own carefully constructed
blank mask in place as he let the Professor do all the talking.

“Are you feeling better? I understand from the doctor that your…wounds
were relatively minor.” The pause in the Professor’s statement made
Remy’s heart beat faster as he looked sharply at the doctor. For his part,
Hank appeared relatively contrite, but still would not meet Remy’s eyes.
Chagrined at the obvious lack of patient confidentiality, Remy scowled as he
shifted minutely in the chair. “Tol’ you before, homme. Remy heals
pretty quick.”
“And I told you that I would do whatever is necessary to protect my charges.”
Xavier’s eyes hardened as he looked at the boy, his hands folding to a
more relaxed pose on the desk. “You’ve been hiding something from
us. I’ve let it slide, hoping that you would come to trust us enough to
share. But, you’ve been with us for months. We have shared our secrets
with you. And now, it is time for you to come clean.”
Remy stared at the man; his face expressionless and showing none of the inner
turmoil swirling in his mind like a tornado. Sweat broke out on the back of
his neck, but he ignored it with an iron will. “Don’ know what you
mean.”
“I think you know exactly what I mean. This,” Xavier casually waved
a hand towards the folder in Hank’s paw, “is the results of your
blood work that we sent to Muir Island months ago.”
Remy resisted the urge to bite his lip as he turned his gaze towards the doctor.
Hank adjusted his glasses and cleared his throat. “The reason it has taken
so long, distance and lack of any other mutant research facilities notwithstanding,
is that the data we received was somewhat….baffling.” He opened
the folder and glanced down at the contents before speaking again. “So,
I asked them to rerun all the tests. However, the facts are indisputable. This
is not your blood.”
It was all he could do to keep the panic from showing as he replied. “Dat’s
ridiculous. Of course, it mine. You took de sample yourself.”
“Well, yes I did draw your blood, but this is not the blood I drew.”
Remy cocked his head to one side and let a confused expression cross his face.
“Hehn?”
“I’m saying, this can’t be your blood.”
“Yeh, it is. Dey must be wrong.”
“No, they aren’t wrong. This isn’t your blood.”
“It is. De equipment musta been faulty.”
Hank was becoming exasperated. “No, it wasn’t the equipment, Remy.
This is not your blood.”
“Is, too.”
“No, it’s not.”
“Is.”
“No.”
“Oui.”
“I’m telling you it’s not.”
“I’m telling you it is.”
“Why are you denying it?”
“What make you t’ink it not mine?”
The slamming of the Professor’s hand on the wooden desk startled both
Remy and the doctor as their wide eyes snapped towards the telepath. Xavier
looked directly into those ruby eyes as he growled. “Because, you are
not a hermaphrodite.”
All of the color drained from the Cajun’s face as he processed the Professor’s
words and the anger in his voice. A quick peek at the doctor confirmed what
the older man had just said. /Merde. Dimitri never tol’ me dat./
The silence in the office was oppressive. Xavier closed his eyes and took a
deep breath, trying to calm himself in the wake of Remy’s reaction. The
boy looked near faint, and the Professor could almost feel the fear pouring
out of the younger mutant. The telepath swallowed hard, visibly shaken by his
own loss of control, and leaned back in his chair. When his eyes once again
opened, there was only a look of disappointment in his gaze. “Remy...”
He waited until the Cajun finally focused on him before continuing. “The
paperwork does not lie.” The implied /unlike you/ hung in the
air between them.
Hank cleared his throat again to garner the attention of both men. “You
see, Gambit. We ran DNA tests on the samples I collected from you. It is something
we do for all mutants that we treat. Our genomes are so unique, that it is necessary
to study and classify as many different genes as we find. It is potentially
crucial to our very survival.” He proceeded to flip through a few of the
pages within the folder as he adjusted his glasses. “In your case, we
denoted two populations of cells with different genotypes. It appears the genotypes
arose from more than one zygote, effectively making this a blood sample from
a chimera. Different sets of chromosomes were detected and the DNA testing showed
that the blastocysts are of the opposite sex.” At the glazed expression
in the boy’s eyes, Hank decided to end the science lesson with a heavy
sigh. “Basically, the owner of this sample has ambiguous genitalia or
hermaphroditism, or perhaps, a combination of both.” A tilt of his big,
blue head had him peering at the Cajun over the top of his glasses. “I’ve
seen your genitalia, Remy. It is neither ambiguous nor hermaphroditic.”
That actually brought a smirk to Gambit’s face. He was about to retort
when he was suddenly struck with a wave of agonizing terror and despair. Pain
like he had never felt had him bending over to place his head between his knees
to stave of the intense nausea that arose in his stomach. The Professor cried
out and grasped his head in both hands. Hank was stunned into immobility, torn
between reaching out to the Cajun or seeing to Xavier. From somewhere else in
the mansion, the screams of one of the other telepaths in residence could be
heard along with a thump above their heads; one of the women must have collapsed
to the floor.
No sooner had the wave hit Remy, than it was gone. He managed to gain control
over himself and sit back in the chair; face pale and breathing raggedly for
a moment as he stared at the two men on the opposite side of the table. Hank
was huddled over Xavier, one big blue hand on the back of the chair while the
other gently patted the professor’s arm. “Quoi ça dit, Monsieur
Bête?”
“I’m not sure, my young Acadian friend.” Hank’s worried
eyes measured the slumped figure below him. “Charles? Charles! Can you
hear me?”
A few heartbeats later, the Professor shuddered and grabbed Hank’s arm,
using it to help raise himself upright. “I…I’m fine. There
was suddenly a..” He paused, fingers to his temple as he focused on Scott’s
frantic telepathic call.
/PROFESSOR! PROFESSOR!/
/Calm yourself, Scott. What’s going on?/
/Professor! Thank God! It’s Jean. She was using Cerebro to scan for
new mutants and suddenly she…oh God…there’s blood!/
Xavier looked sharply at Hank before responding. /Scott! Tell me what happened, where are you?/
/She just…suddenly arched out of the chair screaming. And then she
passed out. There’s blood coming out of her nose. Professor, the babies…/
/We’re on our way./
Xavier wheeled his chair from behind the table, the stress and worry in his
voice a palpable thing. “Hank, we must get to Cerebro. Jean’s collapsed
and bleeding. I imagine that was the telepathic backlash I just experienced.”
He scarcely took notice of the Cajun.
Hank rushed after the man, glancing back briefly to the boy as he threw over
his shoulder, “Gambit, please check on Betsy. I heard her fall upstairs.”
Remy didn’t question how the doctor knew exactly which telepath had hit
the floor above them. All he was truly aware of was the overwhelming wave of
terror he’d experience from Jean; how incredibly powerful those emotions
were to have hit him so hard despite the distance between them.
*********

They were all summoned to the War Room. At the head of the table sat a grim
faced Cyclops with an equally disturbed Xavier. The major players on the team
moved quickly and silently to take their seats and waited for the explanations
to come. Cyclops stood and turned on the holographic projector in the center
of the table as he began to speak. “A short time ago, as most of you are
now aware, Jean encountered something through her telepathy while utilizing
Cerebro. It caused a severe traumatic experience to her, and subsequently sent
a backlash to the rest of the telepaths on our team.” He gave a short
nod to Betsy as she rubbed the forming bruise on her shoulder where she hit
the floor earlier. Beside her, Worthington reached out to squeeze her hand.
“Jean is currently unconscious, but stable. The doctor has assured me
that the babies are unhurt.” The team leader had to pause for a moment
as he almost choked on the last part of his statement. To cover his need to
recollect himself, he reached out to press a few buttons that caused a pinpoint
light to appear on the image before them. “We’re not sure exactly
what we’re dealing with, only that it was powerful enough to knock out
Jean while her telepathy was enhanced within Cerebro.” Moving a laser
pen towards the illuminated section of the map, he continued. “It appears
the disturbance came from this section of the city. The Professor has scanned
the area and can not seem to find anything now. But, this area is riddled with
tunnels and caverns from the old subway lines that used to run underground.”
Remy’s chin had been resting in his open palm as he listened to the team
leader. But, his eyes grew wider at the last statement Scott made. Understanding
was beginning to dawn in those ruby orbs – a snatch of the dream popped
into his head, then quickly flitted away.
“We will head out immediately and scour the area in two teams. Team A
will…” Scott was interrupted by the anquished whisper coming from
the Cajun.
“Mon Dieu. De Morlocks.” Concentration so focused on his sudden
realization, he didn’t realize he had uttered the words out loud.
Scott frowned at him. “You have something to add, Gambit?”
The calling of his codename startled Remy from his inner focus. “De…de
Morlocks.” He voiced with a little more power.
“Ya mean those people living in the tunnel?” Logan asked in surprise,
his face clouding over in something like anger or concern when he saw the boy
nod in assent to the question.
Looking back and forth between the two men, Scott felt lost and decided to
reassert himself. “What’s this about, Logan?” He then turned
his focus to the newest member of the team. “Gambit?”
But, it was the feral that answered the question. “It’s a group
of people that Remy’s been looking after. They live in those tunnels.
They’re…well, they’re mutants, but unlike us, they can’t
pass as normal humans.” He shrugged, not really knowing the Morlocks well
enough to venture any further explanations.

Lips pressed together in a fierce line, Cyclops took a moment to reassess the
plan. “We’ll start with those tunnels first. Team A will be made
up of me, Wolverine, Gambit, Psylocke, and Rogue.”
Rogue looked astonished. “Me?”
The team leader looked at her. “Yes. Storm can not possibly go down into
those tunnels with us. You know why.” Ororo opened her mouth to protest,
then blushed and looked down at the table. “I need you to absorb her powers.
We may need her abilities down there.” At the fear he saw in those emerald
eyes, his voice gentled. “We’ve practiced this Rogue. We all have
faith that you can do this.” She felt humbled at the trust she heard in
his words and saw in Ororo’s eyes.
“I’m going, too.” Worthington commanded.
Scott glared at him. “No, you’re not.” He held his hand up
to halt the protest about to be lodged. “These are enclosed, narrow tunnels,
Angel. Your power is in the ability to spread your wings and take flight.”
The dour expression on the millionaire’s face pulled at Scott’s
conscience. “Besides, Warren. I need you to stay here with Hank and protect
the mansion.” Those eyes, somewhere behind the red visor, stared earnestly
at the man, willing him to understand what he truly needed his friend to stay
and protect.
It only took a moment, and a quick glance at his lover beside him, for Worthington
to realize what Scott was requesting. “Yes, of course, Cyclops.”
He acquiesced. A silent exchange passed between them. /I’ll protect
yours; you protect mine./ And, Warren squeezed Betsy’s hand once
again.
“The Professor will monitor us on Cerebro. If there is nothing more,
let’s get suited up.”
With that, they all filed out of the room with a powerful sense of determination.
*********
Like before when they fought Magneto, they landed silently on the roof of a
nearby building. Using repelling ropes to slide down the darkened sides of the
building unnoticed, they landed in intervals in an alley and waited for further
orders. Disconnecting his harness, Cyclops moved to the front of the team, eyeballing
the members to make sure everyone was present and accounted for before turning
his attention to Remy. “Alright Gambit. You seem to know the area we plan
to canvas. You lead the way.”
Remy whirled about, the flutter of his trench coat fanning about him with the
sudden movement, and strode with purpose towards a manhole at the far side of
the alley. After it was uncovered, several of the team members took a moment
to spread a rubbing compound under their noses to overcome the smell that emanated
from the hole. Wolverine was not so fortunate, his keen sense needed for tracking,
and he reeled from the overwhelming stench. Remy reached out and grabbed his
forearm to steady him where they crouched, then leaned forward and whispered
soft enough to insure that none of the others could hear. “S’okay,
mon amour. Focus on Gambit.” He watched the feral’s nostrils widen
as he inhaled deeply of the boy’s scent and used it to ground himself.
At the nod he received from the older man, flashlights in hand, he proceeded
to lead the team into the tunnels.
They moved slowly, in single file, through the murk. Rogue and Betsy both wrinkled
their noses at the slime covered walls, subconsciously hunching their shoulders
in an attempt to stay as far away from the filth as possible. As much as it
bothered them, they both knew better than to voice any complaints that might
give away the team’s position. Several twists and turns later, and Gambit
halted the group at the first signs of trouble. Ahead of them, laying face down
in a pool of brown and red water was a scratched and beaten body, the clothes
torn in various places as testament to what took place. The white blond hair
streaked with blood, filth, and other fluids that Remy didn’t want to
think about, gave the clues to the body’s identification. “Dimitri”
he gasped, reaching down to verify what he already knew. A perfunctory inspection,
and Remy leaped away to run full throttle down the tunnels, panic causing him
to pump his legs hard.
“Gambit! Wait!” Scott ordered, but the Cajun was already disappearing
from view. “After him! We’ll come back for this one later.”
They each took off after the boy, adrenaline pushing them as they splashed through
ever changing tunnels and junctions, until they all nearly collided with a suddenly
still Gambit standing in the opening of a large cavern.

It was beyond awful. Blood was everywhere, along with various parts of bodies.
The claw marks, and scorch prints on the wall, told Remy instantly who had done
this. Obviously, the Morlocks had put up one hell of a fight. But, they were
peaceful mutants at heart, and battle was not their forte.
“Jeezuz” Logan muttered as he gingerly stepped over pools of blood.
His senses were out of control, the overwhelming smell of death and decay affecting
him in the enclosed space of the underground habitat.
Remy was in shock, looking around and trying desperately to recognize members
of the tribe through the gore. He moved like an automaton through the carnage.
It looked like almost everyone had been here when the attack came. Faces that
could be seen were in various frozen displays of horror, pain, fear…..he
closed his eyes as a wave of dizziness hit him.
“This can’t be real.” Rogue asked in disbelief. Her eyes
were showing her what took place but her mind wasn’t processing it.
The rest of the group disappeared from Remy’s attention as his eyes opened
up and focused on three bodies at the very back of the destroyed home. “Non”
he whispered as he moved quickly towards the area he now recognized as having
been the living quarters for Kale and his family. Coming to a halt, he stared
down at the three bodies, his eyes resting on the smallest of the three as he
fell to his knees. He reached out and pulled the body into his arms. For all
the destruction around him, his only thought was how very much like a porcelain
doll she looked at the moment, her glassy eyes staring at the ceiling above,
no light in them at all.
“Petite?” he choked. The rest of the team turned towards the Cajun
and watched as the scene played out. “Answer me, padnat. It Remy.”
He stroked her long curly strands, wrapping a few pieces around a finger as
he smiled sadly. “You want Remy should sing for you?” His words
shook as he began. “Come with me…….. and you’ll……
be…” A crack in his voice broke through but he continued, “….in
a world of pure im….” He just stopped, a sob finishing the verse.
Rocking back and forth, he cried out to the ceiling “NNNAAAHHHHAAHHAA!!!”
Everyone shifted nervously as all of the inanimate objects around them began
to glow. Power was building, the thrum of it causing the hairs on their arms
to stand at attention; skin prickling with electricity. Betsy gasped and reached
a hand up to her temple as she snapped her head simultaneously towards the Cajun.
“Wolverine! Subdue Gambit NOW!!” she screamed to the feral.
Logan came up behind the boy and deftly pinched a nerve at the juncture of
neck and shoulder. It was a move meant to incapacitate an opponent without bloodshed,
an oriental technique learned long ago and seldom used. There were many facets
to the man known as Wolverine, and not all of them brutish. And though his team
mates rarely saw the non-combative maneuvers of the feral, he relished in the
opportunities to utilize the teachings. It rendered the Cajun unconscious within
moments. He caught the boy and kneeled behind him, as he warily glanced around.
The energy began to dissipate, bleeding out slowly and several team members
released the breaths they were unaware they were holding. Numbly, they all gathered
around the feral, and stared in shocked disbelief as the man cradled the younger
mutant to him, cooing nonsense as he gently brushed auburn locks away from Gambit’s
face. It was too much, the stench of death and the macabre scene threatened
to undo them all.
Scott looked at his fellow team mates one by one as he spoke. “Alright
people, we..” his voice broke. He ran fingers through his hair and struggled
to find his control. Reaching deep inside himself to find that soldier mentality
he needed, he wrapped it around him like a cloak and tried again. Clearing his
throat and standing a little straighter, he pinned each member with his eyes,
willing his strength on them to shore everyone up. “We need to clean this
up and transport the bodies back to the mansion.”
End ch 28
********
Translations:

Quoi ça dit, Monsieur Bête? – What’s happening, Mister
Beast?

28

29

30

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