**********

Of Thieves and Kings

The pool-cue in my hands seems to have a life of its own as it
impacts with the ball, sending it racing across the green field. It
connects with its partner, sending it spinning towards the corner
pocket.

Perfect… except for the fact that it hits the side, missing the
pocket by a hair's breath.

`Merde!' I shake my head, staring at the pocket in disbelief. I
shouldn't have missed that shot. The balls where perfectly aligned…

A low whistle pierces the air and I glance up at Logan where he's
leaning on his pool-cue, studying me. "Where'd ya go, kid? Ya've been
missing easy shots all night."

Slowly I shake my head, as I trail nervous fingers down my own
cue. "Sorry, Logan, Remy ain't `xactly been great company tonight."

"Nah, kid, it's fine," an amused smile and he shrugs. "'Sides I'm not
saying that beating yer ass into the ground five times in a row
doesn't have its perks."

I meet his gaze at that, cracking a grin of my own as I allow auburn
bangs to fall into my eyes, even though I don't really feel like
smiling. But we must uphold our reputation, musn't we?

"Savour the moment, old man. It ain't gonna happen `gain."

"Well, it ain't gonna happen now," he answers, before taking a long
swallow of beer. "Think we'll save ya from further embarrassment
tonight and I'll take ya up on that challenge after ya can shoot
straight again."

"Remy can shoot straight." I reply, chagrined and entirely aware of
how childish it sounds, but in no position to care.

Logan just glances from me to the pool table and back, his silence
making his point far better than words could ever do. Tonight just
isn't my night.

And it isn't just tonight. This isn't my week, my month, my year and
so on and so forth. In fact I don't think it's ever been my day. My
life seems to consist of a series of mishaps, moving from one to
another, day by day and slowly building towards that inevitable
crescendo of misfortune. Not that Rogue would see it that way… even
with me in her head.

Calloused fingers brush softly against my hands as Logan removes the
cue from them, before putting it away in its hook against the
wall. "Come on, Gumbo," he says, taking me by the elbow and steering
me towards one of the tables against the wall. "Let's get you another
drink. At least that'll give you a reason to zone out on me."

And after pressing me into a chair, he's off to get said drink,
leaving me to `zone out' further, as Logan so aptly phrased it.

**********

Something's terribly wrong with the kid; you'd have to be blind not
to see it. Unfortunately that's exactly what most of the X-Men are,
they see only what they want to see, when they want to see it. I
think it's about time I rub their noses in it.

I fetch the drinks from the bar, saying a gruff thank you to Harry,
before moving back to the table. Remy's back in his own private
little world. He's been doing that the entire night – just phasing
out, blissfully unaware of anything that might be going on around him.

I set the drink down in front of him with a click and watch his
shocked expression as he comes out of his trance, before moving round
the table and taking the seat opposite him. Silence follows as he
sits there, staring down into his glass as I study him, before I
decide that I've had enough.

"What's eating ya, kid?"

He glances up at me, shocked. "Rien," he replies, slowly, but I know
he's lying. I can smell it on him.

"Don't give me that, Gumbo. Something's wrong and I wanna know what."

"Don't wanna talk `bout it," he answers, glancing away, not meeting
my gaze.

"Come on kid, ya can trust me." I try again, even though I'm not
exactly sure this plea will work. As far as I know the kid doesn't
trust anyone and not without good reason.

"Gambit doesn't trust anyone." He states firmly, the garnet of his
eyes burning slightly as he deigns to meet my gaze again. Why is it
the answer you expect is exactly the one you don't want?

Gambit… not Remy. Progress, bah… now we're moving backwards. Give it
a few more moments and he'll kill this conversation. I can see it in
his eyes. Unless…

"Yeah, kid. I know that. But who does Remy trust?" I ask; meeting his
burning gaze firmly and watching the surprise grow in them, followed
by a small smile. Just a quirk of his lips, but it's a smile none the
less.

"Remy…" he begins, before stopping and looking down at his drink. He
sighs before looking back up at me. "I trust you Logan. You've always
watched my back…" he starts, but I don't let him take it any further.
I know where that would lead. Just a different way of changing the
subject. Not tonight, though.

"Then trust me. Let me watch yer front for once, Remy."

I can see he's considering this. I don't exactly know when he
crumpled or how long he just sat there staring at me, but when he did
I saw something break. Or maybe I should say that he trusted me
enough to let me see something break.

The kid never lets you see anything he doesn't want you to see. If I
know anything about Remy it's that and that getting him to tell you
what he doesn't want you to know is a real uphill battle. Looks like
I won today. Or maybe he's just given up entirely…

"Everyone looks, but nobody sees, Logan." Remy says softly. "Nobody
cares enough to see."

I shake my head at that. "What about Storm?" I want to shout what
about me, but hold back. "She cares, kid. She loves you like a
brother."

"Oui, Stormy, she cares `bout this boy, but she feels so guilty. She
won't look me in the eye. Know I've never been real close to any of
the others, but none of them will look me in the eye and it's killin'
me. Their guilt is eatin' me alive. Can't escape it, Logan. It's like
it's seeped into the walls. The entire Mansion feels… " he stops and
shakes his head. Suddenly his drink seems real interesting again.

"Remy, the guilt's their problem. Ya shouldn't make it yers. Ya can't
let their feelings hurt ya like this." I reach over the table and
place my hand on his arm, causing him to look up at me.

Empty eyes stare at me, the red having entirely fled as a crooked
grin spreads across his features and he chuckles causing the room
temperature to drop. "Their feelings shouldn't hurt me, should they?"
he whispers, before glancing at my hand still resting on his arm.

Ebony eyes meet my gaze again, before I feel it. It is just a light
pressure on my mind, but I recognise it as telepathic in nature and
then it hits me. A bundle of emotions so strong, I nearly cry out.
Guilt, pain, anger, pity – all rolled into one and forced past any
shielding I might have.

I see him talking. Remy is saying something, but I can't hear him.
All I can think about are those emotions and how I want them gone.
How I need them gone. The animal in me howls, its hackles rising and
then the emotions disappear as quickly as they came and I can hear
the kid again.

"Non, Logan. It doesn't hurt, does it? It shouldn't, should it? But
it does and nobody knows." He is staring down at the table, one
finger idly tracing the mark of liquid that his glass left after he
moved it. "Nobody cares." He whispers, as demonic eyes glance up at
me again, like they're begging me to say something… anything. But
what can I say?

Silently, I close my hand over his, halting the idle movement, before
doing exactly what I have imagined for so long. I kiss him. I show
him that I care when I don't have the words to tell him. And the
funny thing is… he kisses me back.

He… the seraph with the demon eyes and the innocent soul; he… the
charming thief with the intoxicating smile is kissing me. Me. Me –
the monster, who can barely control his own inner demons; me – the
unworthy one. He's kissing me.

And it's heaven. A small moan escapes him as he parts his lips and
lets me in and I revel in it. The animal in me quiet for once, or
maybe he's enjoying this as much as I am.

I've wanted him so badly, wanted to do this so badly for so long and
now… Wet fingers trail lightly down my jaw-line, leaving behind the
sharp smell of alcohol and I pull away slightly, just staring at
those beautiful eyes, trying to gather my wits once more.

A soft smile plays across those angelic features and turns my world
alight. I can hear his heart fluttering against his chest, or is that
mine? "Thank you, Logan, I needed that."

"Remy, I…" I start; desperately trying to express what I'm feeling.
What I want. What I want more than life itself, but he presses his
forefinger to my lips, quietening me.

"I know. Remember." He taps his forehead. "Know what you feel, even
if you can't put the words to it. I know."

I nod. "Yeah, kid, `bout that. Why ya never tell anyone?"

"No one asked, cher." He says, still smiling.

"And ya would have answered if they did?" I ask, suspiciously.

"Non, might have dropped a couple o' hints tho." He replies,
nonchalantly, still flashing that charming grin.

"Anything else ya hiding that I should know about?"

"P'etetre."

"Yer not gonna tell me?"

"I might, if the price is right."

"And by that ya mean…"

"Don' worry, Wolvie. Ain't plannin' anything you won' like." His eyes
dance as he says it and his smile turns secretive and promising,
making me wonder what exactly I have gotten myself into.

**********

I know he's there – I can smell him. Smell that distinctively
intoxicating scent that only the Cajun has – alcohol, cigarette smoke
and that touch of French cologne mixed with the smell of warm flesh
and blood. It's enough to drive me insane.

I want him – want to reach out and touch him; run my fingers through
those auburn locks. To pull him close and hold him tight – never let
him go. To have everything, to take everything – to make him mine.

A warm body presses itself up against me, snuggling closer as soft
locks fall onto my shoulder. Tenderly, I caress those silky strands,
holding Remy as he sleeps and loving every second of it.

Who would have thought it? I've succeeded and I can still hardly
believe it. I can't sleep; I won't close my eyes. I'm too afraid that
if I close them he'd be gone.

There's a soft sigh emanating from just below my shoulder, before a
drowsy voice says: "Go to sleep, mon amour." And reassured I do…
holding my newfound lover close to me. My angel, my devil, my soul
mate – my everything.

So now… let no one say that Wolverine isn't the King of Hearts.
 

End.