The rest of Remy’s night went about as well as one could imagine. In and out of sleep. Tossing and turning, hoping the next time his eyes opened several hours would have elapsed, and not merely thirty minutes. He took solace in knowing by the next evening, most of his turmoil will have slipped back into a dark corner of his mind. Where he stored the rest of a lifetime’s worth of trauma. But he also knew at some point, it’d rear its head again and drag him back to that dark Utopian shore.
By the time the sun came up, Remy had made up his mind. Some activities in life were worth losing rest over. For him, most of those involved a girl from Mississippi with a white streak of hair running down the middle of her mane. Second-guessing the best choice he’d ever made just didn’t score high enough for him.
Yep. There was only one thing left to do. And nothing was going to stop him. Not his horde of ferocious spy cats in the making and certainly not Rogue’s sultry siren song begging him to close the curtains and get back in bed. Nope. It was time.
Time to beg Storm for advice before he did or said something really stupid.
If there was anything Remy knew about his weather-manipulating best woman, it’s that if you didn’t have an appointment, you’d best wake with the sun. Any time after she tended to her garden was already spoken for. Between her duties on the council, sojourns to Wakanda, and work with the Marauders – he hated that name – Storm’s free time was essentially non-existent. Before the sun had parted ways with the Krakoan ocean, Remy had already pulled on a set of mismatched black and gray sweats and hiked up the summit to Storm’s open-air humble abode.
As Gambit approached, he intentionally rustled bushes and stepped on twigs. Anything to give her the heads up on his approach. He learned a long time ago to not sneak up on Ororo - deliberately or otherwise. Over the years she’s developed a sixth sense about feeling the presence of others around her – probably due to changes in pressure. Or perhaps it’s her innate ability to manipulate energy that helps her detect foreign energy fields – either way, Gambit consistently stayed under her radar. On more than one occasion it has resulted in the King of Thieves needing to dodge a bolt of lightning.
“Ro’?!” Gambit called out into the morning air, his breath dancing away in the active sea breeze. “Where you at, Stormy?!”
“I have asked you many times, Remy, to not call me that…” Storm’s voice unnaturally floated on the wind. At first, Gambit wasn’t quite sure where it originated. Left and right were clear. She surely wasn’t behind him – but when you’re dealing with Ororo Munroe, when in doubt, look up.
Gambit smiled at his friend as she slowly descended from above. He was glad to see that her ethereal ebony form was wrapped in an equally divine ivory tunic – this early in the morning it was common to find her unabashedly nude. A couple of years ago, it wouldn’t have been much of a bother for either of them – but since he and Rogue exchanged ‘I dos’, Remy and Storm had vigorously been going out of their way to ensure they respected the union.
“Hey, girl…” Remy smiled with an outstretched hand. Storm took it ever so royally as she finally touched down, a zephyr of air released just as her feet touched the dew-drenched grass.
“Remy.” standing at nearly equal height to Gambit, Storm hugged him. “It is a bit early for you, is it not? Is something the matter?”
Remy flashed a devilish grin. “Ah, ya’ know me.”
Storm acknowledged him with a stiff eyebrow and an inquisitive stare.
“Yes. I do...” Storm turned and began walking toward her domicile. Without being told, Remy followed, stuffing his hands into the front pocket of his sweatshirt. “You look horrid.”
“Thanks.”
Storm’s place didn’t have a door, or a full ceiling, for that matter. Where the door would have been was instead an archway with silky, drapes that helplessly danced on the gentle morning wind. Inside, the walls of the off-white structure were adorned with art Remy could only assume were equal parts Kenyan and Wakandan. Maybe a couple of photos depicting the Harlem Renaissance to round out her robust heritage. She led him to a small round wooden table in the center of the room where the roof ended and was replaced with an open sky. Like a skylight without the glass.
Storm left him there for a moment but quickly returned with a tray carrying a ceramic teapot, two cups, and a matching vessel containing cream. She motioned for him to be seated. Storm served him and then poured a steamy cup for herself, before taking a seat.
“Merci.”
“Not getting enough sleep?” Storm probed. With a slight smirk, she sat back, blew over her cup, and continued to study her guest. “I assumed the post-wedding extracurriculars would have lessened by this point.”
“Never that, Ro. Casa de LeBeau stays a'rockin'…” a statement like that would have normally been followed by a smile and laugh – but his face was uncharacteristically apathetic. Remy hadn’t even bothered to lift his gaze from his cooling cup of tea.
“Charming.” Storm matched his energy and took a sip from her cup. “Why are you visiting, Remy?”
“I wanted to sneak a peek of you in the buff. Why aren’t naked, anyway? It’s barely seven.” his jest was met with an unwavering death stare devoid of all humor. When the hair on his arm twitched, Remy knew the fun time had ended. “Ok-ok-ok, calm down Zeus…”
Remy placed his tea cup on the small table and leaned back into his stiff chair. It creaked under his weight. He took in a long breath and pinched the bridge of his nose. He could feel a headache forming – more than likely from a lack of sleep and skipping a couple of meals.
“I ever tell you about me an' Joanna back on Utopia?”
“Joanna?” Storm looked bewildered. She screwed up her face before she finally remembered to whom the first name belonged “Cargill? Do you mean, Frenzy?”
“Yeah. That Joanna.” Remy confirmed as he leaned forward and balanced his elbows on his knees with his hands clasped together supporting his chin.
“Then, no. You and I have never discussed anything concerning the two of you… Remy, you are not telling me that you and she-”
“What? Non! No…well, not recently anyway.”
“Exactly how not recently, Remy?”
Remy felt the hair on his arm twitch again. “Years ago, Ro. Years. Like before I met munchkin-you, years ago.”
Storm closed her eyes and let out a sigh that was equal parts annoyed and frustrated.
“You had best get to the point of all this, Remy…”
“Yeah, no kiddin’.” Gambit unconsciously rubbed the back of his neck. “Anyway, me an’ her started something of a morbid tradition. This was right after that mess with Legion an’ the pocket universe-bubble, mind-screw thing – ya’ know when you an’ King Crab were bumpin’ uglies?”
“Remy, I promise you, if-”
“Sorry, getting to the point… long story short we’re getting plastered on whatever I could get shipped out there – not that her pallet could tell the difference between a Marlowe and – we were coping. She was still hung up real bad on Scott, Basilisk, or whatever... heh, I remember wishing Davie-boy set me up with someone else too, just to help take the edge off, but nope. It’s always Rogue.”
Without warning, Gambit stood up and started pacing within a five-foot radius of his chair. Storm wasn’t startled. She merely set her cup down, crossed her arms across her chest, and tracked him with her eyes as he started up again.
“One night Joanna said something that’s been bothering me since. It’s just an idea she had, probably built mostly around hearsay and second-hand accounts, but… what if everything, or at least a part of Rogue that fell for me, wasn’t the original recipe Rogue?”
It’s not often that people surprise her. Storm was a great judge of character. She knew Remy better than most, and outside of a jump scare here and there – she’d testify there was nothing he could do that would leave her at a loss for words. First time for everything.
She and Rogue were like sisters. Not as close as her and Remy – but familiar enough for her to know in her bones that Rogue had been madly in love with Remy, nearly from the first time she laid eyes on him.
“Remy, what are talking-”
“Humor me a spell longer, Ro, please. I know it sounds nuts at first, but Hope reset Rogue, oui? Not just her powers – everything. Borrowed memories, skills… personalities. A blank slate, the first time since she accidentally drained dat boy.” Remy retook his seat. “Ya have t’admit – from metoMagneto?”
“They… did have a prior history, Remy.” Storm gave a slight shrug and her face flinched as if someone had pinched just her. She was never a supporter of Rogue’s relationship with Magneto. At best, it was problematic – and not simply because of the large age gap. Yet, at the end of the day, they were both adults.
Her objection had far more to do with the number of mental gymnastics necessary to ignore years of misdeeds and outright violence personally perpetrated against them, by Magneto. One of which resulted in Gambit being put through a kangaroo court with his head in a guillotine. By a fluke of science, he survived the ordeal, obviously – but he still almost died several times over in the days to follow.
“Uh huh… I’m a fan of loin-cloth Rogue as much as anybody – but that ain’t never added up for me… but you throw in Joanna’s drunken epiphany? Kinda starts painting a picture, no?”
“Remy Etienne LeBeau, I never thought of you as the jealous type. The Joseph incident notwithstanding, I would suppose. Now that I think about it – perhaps this has more to do with Magneto than you are willing –”
“I couldn’t care less about Bucket-head Man…” Gambit laced his fingers behind his head and leaned back in his chair until the front legs were off of the ground. He stared through the ceiling hole and admired Krakoa’s orange morning sky as it slowly gave way to blue. “This is about me and my wife.”
“Ah, so you do remember the term.”
“Ro-”
“She is your wife. You married her. She married you. Not Magneto, not Johnny Storm, and certainly not Wade Wilson. I will not try to convince you that your concerns are groundless. Rogue is most definitely… complex. But you were aware of that from the beginning. Your theory -”
“Joanna’s theory.” Gambit corrected her.
“Yes… it may very well have played a part.” Storm paused a moment, glanced at her doorway for a second or two, and then continued. “However, even if her mental state was indeed altered after her encounter with Hope – she did ultimately fall in love with you. Again.”
Still looking up, Gambit nodded and smiled. “That she did, chere...”
“Perhaps this was just a lapse in confidence on your part – but if I can suggest nothing else to you, I would not bring this to Rogue’s attention. It may be more inflammatory than you might otherwise assume.”
Gambit nodded again. “Oh, I can assume plenty, Ro. Why I’m here and not dangling three-hundred feet up there by my neck, at the mercy of a pissed-off southern woman.”
“Also, if you had any notion of pursuing this theory further by, let us say, contacting Carol Danvers…”
“Ah, c’mon Stormy. I’ve got more sense than that. Just randomly dial up an Avenger and ask her if I’m her type?” Gambit nervously laughed and scratched the back of his head. “Yeah, I already did that – so to speak.”
Storm had already brought her cup back up to her lips for a sip, but Gambit’s statement froze her. She had nearly spilled it on herself
“Excuse me?”
“Yeah. When I borrowed the transport for the honeymoon? Did you think I just put in a requisition or something? I had to work my magic a bit.” Gambit finally rested all four legs of his chair back on the floor and firmly reestablished eye contact with Storm. “An’ Stormy. I didn’t have to work much of it…”
“Remy, are you infirming that-”
“I don’t know for sure if she’s… but, I know when a femme is at least open. Not saying she was willing to entertain an affair with a man fresh off of the altar, an’ I’m not saying that was even remotely on the table, Stormy – but X-Men/ Avengers relations being what they’ve always have been – it was too easy of an ask... to be honest, I was ready to borrow one, unofficially, had she turned me down.”
“Rogue and Danvers have a… sordid relationship. Perhaps she was simply attempting to bury the proverbial hatchet? To lend assistance any way she could?”
“Oui. She did also recommend the location. I believe her words were: If Rogue is anything like me, she’ll adore having you and the beaches to herself. Soon as Danvers realized how she phrased that, she got all flustered and excused herself… I thought it best to get the heck out of there too.”
Storm’s eyebrows arched.
“I’m not looking for resolution – I just had no one to talk to about this, an’ holding in it wasn’t working for me. It’s good to get it out, oui?”
Uncertainty was a rare state of mind for Gambit. Even when he was dead wrong, Storm had gotten accustomed to his swagger pushing through. At this most, the worry was situated on his face. Instead of dogpiling on his insecurities, she kept her advice as short, logical, and straightforward as possible.
“As long as it does not get out anywhere else…” Storm’s attention briefly wandered once again. Gambit picked up on it before as well. The first one could have been a squirrel, but twice? Not so much “…perhaps.”
The two friends exchanged warm smiles and almost simultaneously came to their feet and lovingly embraced each other. “If you want to talk, do not hesitate to come to me back – but again, I do not recommend addressing this with your wife,” Storm spoke softly into Gambit’s ear. “At least not yet. Your marriage is new and, as you know very well, she’s still struggling with her powers. Give it some time.”
Gambit walked out of Storm’s place with a somewhat renewed outlook. Even if what he feared was true – Rogue did fall in love with him for a second time without the baggage. Past all the suitors and end-of-the-world events that seemed to pile onto each other – she chose to start a family with him, even whilst going through challenges of her own. Rogue set her fears aside for the first time and said ‘yes’ to him. She said yes to him.
What does it matter?
A rustle in the tree line ahead of him interrupted his thoughts. Shouldn’t be a big deal. It’s a forest. However, it is also Krakoa. It is hard to get used to, but there are only a handful of animals on Krakoa big enough to disturb the forest floor in that particular way – and he owned three of them. Having to travel in that general direction to get back home, Gambit casually, but cautiously approached. The sun was higher than when he arrived, so much of the shadows had faded and given way to the golden light of the morning sun that poured in through the canopy.
Nothing large would be able to hide for long. When he was about six feet away – a small orange paw stepped out followed by the matching body of a house cat.
“Lucifer? You follow me out here, boyo?” Gambit stooped down. The orange cat immediately bounced over and received a pat on the head and a stroke down his slightly striped back. Gambit scoped his hand underneath the feline’s body to lift him but then immediately recoiled and stood, taking several large steps back.
“Either you packed on a hundred and… eighty pounds, Luc, or it looks like my lovely mother-in-law has finally taken an interest in me.”
It is hard to imagine anyone would get used to seeing a shapeshifter do their thing, but after living the life he had up to this point, for Gambit, this was simply another day. Lucifer’s eyes were the first to go. His soft, friendly orbs disappeared into menacing fields of yellow. Then, as if his body had been folded into itself, unfurled, and multiplied in size several times until it took on the deadly shape of Mystique.
Assassin, spy, terrorist, member of the Krakoa Quiet Council, and most importantly at the moment – Rogue’s adopted mother.
Despite being married to her daughter, and living in relatively close quarters – Gambit hadn’t seen much of Mystique. Mostly from afar before she’d disappear into a crowd, but he knew her well enough to realize she was always close by. Not that he was complaining. He couldn’t stand her before they were related. Mystique stared at her son-in-law with her usual brand of contempt. Remy returned it.
They had a special relationship.
Gambit kept his weight on his back foot just in case Mystique had designs on making her daughter a widow. He never knew what kind of nonsense Raven was planning – he had hoped Mystique’s sparing attendance in their lives meant she was at least getting used to the idea of him being around. Now, he wasn’t too sure.
“The only thing here that’s one-hundred and eighty pounds will be your corpse once I pitch it over that ledge” Mystique snarled, yet managed to cloak the not-so-veiled threat with a hint of simulated saccharinity as she crossed her arms across the chest.
“I’d bet…” Remy smirked and pulled his hair back. He then slipped a rubber band off of his wrist and tied it back. “Krakoa must be a dream for a killer such as yourself. Surrounded by water, strong tides, high elevation… ditcha’ body here, it’d probably wash up in Tahiti”
“Want to test the theory, dearson?”
“Merci, but I’ll pass… now, how can I help you, Raven?”
“Help me? You?” Mystique flashed a big smile and cocked her head to the side. “As if there was anything you could do for me. You don’t even know how to help yourself.”
“And that means, what exactly…?”
Mystique shook her head and narrowed her eyes “You don’t think I just now arrived, do you? I heard your little therapy session in there, thief.”
“So, you aimin’ to blackmail me or somethin’ now?”
“Hardly. As much of a waste of space as you are and always have been – at least I figured you were true to yourself – come to find out you’re as emotionally fragile as any man I’ve ever known.”
“And Lord knows, you’ve known your fair share… eh, mo-”
Remy barely got the sentence out before Mystique drew a rather large gun. Where she hid it in her flimsy white dress – he had no clue. On pure reflex, Gambit kicked it out of her hand before she trained it on his face. Mystique spun with the momentum of the strike. When she came back around to face him, there was a knife where the gun used to be. Having dealt with her kind since he was a boy, Gambit instinctually knew how to avoid being cut.
When a trained killer has a weapon in hand and their target doesn’t – it’s natural to be overconfident and hyper-aggressive. He preferred them that way rather than calm and analytical. It’s one of the reasons he talks so much before getting into an altercation. Mystique was no different. With the knife in a stabbing position, she leaped at her son-in-law with the deadliest of intentions. It didn’t take much for Gambit to grab the wrist with the knife, twist it, disarm her, step out of her way, and place a firm kick in the middle of her back – all in a single motion.
The force of the strike was middling, at best, but it was enough to send her stumbling towards the wall of Storm’s house. She caught herself and turned back towards Gambit with embarrassment and bloody murder in her lemony eyes. Not dissimilar to a magician, Mystique managed to draw yet another knife. Once again like the predator she was, began to close the distance between them just before a blinding flash of lightning scorched the grass between the two combatants. Thankfully, the morning dew had mostly evaporated, or else they’d both be on their backs.
“Are the two of you quite finished yet?” Storm was standing on the domed roof of her home, with her hands on her hips staring down at the two mutants. “Or shall I book some time in the Crucible arena? At least there you will have a larger audience.”
“Mind your business, Witch…” Mystique barked through gritted teeth, never taking her eyes off Gambit. “This is a family matter.”
“Yeah? Understand this, mommy, the last time we did this, ya caught me off guard…” Gambit pointed the knife he took from her, at her “But don’ ya’ think for a second that I won’t drag your well-maintained blue backside across this here island.”
“Cute.” Mystique grimaced at the thought. She glanced back up at her fellow councilwoman and relaxed her demeanor. “I didn’t come here for this…”
“And what exactly did you come here for, Raven?” Storm stepped off of her roof and slowly glided to the ground. “Besides eavesdropping on a conversation between your son-in-law and a member of the Quiet Council, that is.”
“Or do you just make a habit out of stalking me?” Gambit interjected as the knife in his hand began to shine in his signature mutant-powered light. He then effortlessly threw it down into the soft Krakoan soil between himself and Mystique. The blade was so excessively sharp it nearly penetrated down to the hilt. However, instead of exploding, it slowly disintegrated into atoms and wispily fanned away in the breeze.
“That was one of my favorites…” Mystique sneered and sighed, her gaze following the knife before they cut back to Gambit.
“And, yes.” She answered seemingly looking at the both of them with an unsettling smile.
Gambit and Storm glanced at each other.
“What? Yes? To what? To what she said, or what I said?” Gambit was both puzzled and disturbed. Mystique lived up to her name and simply held her smile in response to his slightly panicked line of questioning.
Storm rolled her eyes and turned to face Mystique. “Raven. What do you plan on doing with the information you acquired this morning?”
“Oh, nothing, my dear…” Mystique slipped the knife in her hand back where ever it came from. She then walked over to the gun that was taken from her, picked it up, and tucked it behind her back as she started back towards the tree line. “I have no intention of telling my daughter if that is what you’re afraid of. She’d probably turn it on me. No. I’ll merely wait for this fool to destroy his marriage all on his own. Keep my hands clean… So, to speak.”
With that, Mystique stepped back into the shadows of the forest, her form slowly disappearing from their sight as it ostensibly merged with the darkness.
Gambit shook his head wishing he’d not disintegrated the knife. All of a sudden, he had a better place for it in mind. He turned to look at Storm, but all he got was a gust of wind and a glimpse of her carelessly floating away. With a huff, Gambit peered back towards the tree line and grimaced.
“$%$# bet’ not have hurt my cat.”
To be continued...