Gambit settled onto his favorite perch on the roof. He closed his eyes and turned his face up to the rain. It was a gentle soaking rain. It seeped down the back of his shirt and through his jeans. It was a warm night. It was nights like this that cut like a knife. It was hard to remember where he was when the humidity and heat ran for the top of the charts.
If I close my eyes I can almost taste the heavy perfume of my garden, Remy thought. And, if I reach out I'll feel her skin under my fingers again.
His eyes popped open as he heard the shift in weight. The shingles creaked. He expected Logan or Rogue, even Storm or Scott. What he found was Bobby. "'Alo."
"Hi."
"What y' be needin', Drake?" Bobby shifted nervously.
"I came to see what's wrong," he stated.
"Not'in', Bobby."
"Bullshit. Ever since the weather changed you've been moping."
"Just a bit homesick, me."
"I'm a good listener." Gambit shook his head and summoned up a wan smile.
"Non. Merci."
"Talk to me or you'll have to talk to Scott."
"Non, cher. Remy ain' de talkin' kind."
"He'll pull out his secret weapon."
"He can' t'reaten moi."
"He never threatens. But he'll get you to talk whether you want to or not."
"Y' don' have t' stay, Bobby."
*****
"Tell Scott Remy ain't done mopin', Ange. So he can jus' let it go."
"Right. If I don't make this at least look good, he's going to give me the 'I'm so disappointed that you can't manage to put aside your problems' look."
"Hehn?"
"I don't like you. I told him I was the last person he should send up to talk you down."
"Gambit ain't plannin' on jumpin' an' y' shouldn' get wet f' not'in'."
It was getting ridiculous. Maybe the plan was to get him to laugh at the absurdity. "Well, don't fall off."
"Don' worry."
"I'm not."
*****
"I have liquor."
"Is dat y' secret weapon den, Cyke?"
"Nope." Scott settled against the gable. He poured a tumbler of scotch and handed it over.
"Merci. Why y' so worried? Ain' been givin' Jeannie headaches or not'in'."
"It's my job. Besides, I've been living with three telepaths and a doctor. I know when something's wrong. You, my boy, are depressed."
"Non."
"Yes. You haven't been yourself. You didn't even play poker last night."
"Jus'..." Gambit frowned, "melancholy."
"Same thing. Rogue can't get you to smile. Storm says just leave you alone. I think that's bullshit."
"Y' don' talk neither."
"And you come pestering me until I fell better or explode and then feel better. So talk."
"Why? Mmm, dat's de good stuff."
"Yeah. Don't tell Logan. That's better."
"What?" Gambit's eyes glowed slightly in the darkness.
"Your shoulders have been in knots for days."
"Why y' notice m'?"
"I take care of all my people. Besides, you're the only person Jean can't scan around here. I like being able to read someone she can't."
"Don' feel like talkin'."
"That's never dissuaded you. What makes you think I'll be any less stubborn?" Remy rolled his eyes.
"Jus' missin' home. M' anniversary's tomorrow aussi."
"Anniversary?" Remy pulled at the cord around his neck to reveal a gold ring. Not that Scott could see it except for the occasional glint in the light filtering out of Storm's skylight. Remy fingered the warm metal.
"Weddin' an' banishin' bot'."
"Missing your wife or the city more?"
"Ma belle chere." Remy sighed miserably. "She been dead f' almos' two years."
"How old was she?"
"Nineteen, almos'. Funny. Everyone always dought Remy be de first t' die."
"What happened?"
"Belladonna, she be killt by a rival t' de crown. Bitch poisoned her wit' garlic."
"What?"
"She coated de bullet wit' garlic. It be an ol' trick. Poisoned de blood. No one dought anyt'in' of de flesh wound 'til Mattie couldn' flush de infection."
"That's unusual. Couldn't the hospital...?"
"Why go t' de hospital f' a flesh wound? De cops don' need t' be knowin' 'bout de duel."
"Duel?" Scott was fairly certain he'd squeaked the word, but Gambit didn't seem to notice.
"Oui. De bitch called Bella out on a point of honor. Dey bot' died f' it. Guess dat means dey bot' be wrong in de eyes of de gods."
"I thought duels were still illegal."
"What dat got t' do wit'... ah, Cyke. Bella be de heir t' de Assassin's Guild. Jus' like Remy be in line f' de T'ieves' Guild, after his broder."
"Guild?" Remy blinked.
"T'ought ole Wolverine'd have told y' 'bout dat. Stormy, she keep her mout' shut, oui. But Logan? Dat's a surprise. Fine. Can' tell y' less'n y' willin' t' take a blood oat'." Scott gave that a long moment of consideration.
"I will." Gambit nodded. He charged the blade of his knife to sterilize it.
"Give m' y' hand." Scott hissed as the knife dragged across the back of his hand. "If y' reveal any of what I tell y', y' die. Do y' agree t' dis in de name of de gods y' believe in?"
"Yes."
"In de name of de Dream y' fight for?"
"Yes." Remy heated the blade again and sealed the wound. Scott's hand convulsively tightened over the thief's fingers. Gambit stroked the abused flesh. The now dead cells responded to his powers and cooled forming a nearly healed scar. He concentrated and reached for the nerves below the skin. "What did you just do?"
"Nerves fire because of de potentiality difference 'tween de inside an' outside of de cell. Remy can manipulate dat potential energy an' force it t' reset. Je comprenz?'
"You make more sense than Hank on a rant. We'll talk about what you aren't telling us later. Tell me about the guilds." Remy held out his glass for more scotch. Scott complied.
"Dere be two guilds. De T'ieves and de Assassins. Dey been around f' a long time. Dey been fightin' in Nawlins f' 'bout as long as dey been dere. Well, Remy's love life been cursed since he was a pup, so he ends up fallin' f' an Assassin. Jus' like Romeo an' Juliet, non? Well, de papas decide dat de sooner dey get us married, de sooner dey can enforce peace. So Remy and Bella have a grand ole fairy tale weddin' wit' family colors flyin' all over de place. An' de biggest damn party de City seen in years. Well, dings dey don' always go right, 'specially when dey involve politics. So bella's broder, Julien, he get angry an' challenge Remy t' a duel. Remy killt him. Leastways dat's what everyone dought. De Guild Counsel banishes Remy 'cause he be defendin' his wife's honor, not murderin'. Find out dis past year dat Julien be still livin'. Papa's workin' on gettin' de sentence lifted, but Remy don' expect much." Remy couldn't tell his tears from the rain. Scott squeezed the hand nearest to him.
"Remy's still a member of de Nawlins Guild. Still a prince. Still one of de best, but he ain' allowed t' see anyone in de City. He still f'gets dat Bella ain' gonna cross his path again. He ain' never gonna be able t' steal a moment in de back of a museum or trade secrets about a mark."
"You think that you'll open your eyes and suddenly she'll be waiting for you."
"Yeah. Or mebbe, she send a letter." Scott nodded.
"Feeling better?"
"A bit. Still gonna be down f' awhile."
"You can always talk to me. I remember what losing Jean did to me. Don't push me away."
"Y' just let po' Remy be, Cyke."
"If Remy mopes for too long, he's going to find himself in the professor's office for a referral to a shrink."
"Y' talk a good talk, Scotty, but y' ain't gonna send Remy t' a shrink anymore dan Logan gonna hit Jubilee." Scott snickered.
"Why don't you come in out of the rain?"
"Why? Feels nice."
"Because the scotch is getting watered down."
"Suppose dat's a good enough reason."
"Good. You get to play guide dog. There's so many drops on my glasses I can't see shit." Gambit laughed.
"D'accord. Give m' de bottle an' glasses. Now, take m' arm." Remy took the chance and let the older man's emotions wash over him: Compassion, worry, and smug satisfaction layered over remembered grief. Remy guided Scott's hand to the door frame. He opened the roof access that went into the mansion and past Storm's door. She poked her head out and laughed.
"Hold still." She summoned warm winds to dry them. Then, shaking her head she went back to folding her laundry. Remy poured the next round of scotch and contemplated going back to the roof.
"No," Scott stated firmly. He reached out to look at the ring and the locket strung next to it. "May I?"
"Sure." Scott studied the devices on the locket. A hand of aces above crossed swords that formed a stylized "A" where the hilts touched.
"Your family symbols?"
"Oui." Scott opened the locket.
"She's beautiful."
Remy smiled. "Stole m' heart. Mattie sent de lock of hair after." He fingered the ring. "Miss Mattie somet'in' awful too." He shrugged. "Made de decision, gotta pay de price."
"You were young."
"Older'n m' age, Cyke."
"I know the feeling." He shut the locket carefully. "Come on downstairs. Show everyone you haven't drowned."
"I guess."
"You missed dinner."
"Weren't hungry."
"You still need to eat."
"Yes, Papa."
FINIS
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