Comments: In this story, there will be quite a lot of "dreams." And those dreams will * look like this. *
The weather turned to shit around the time that I finally got up to my room and “settled.” Meaning, throwing my shit against the farthest wall of my barely furnished room, growling and cussing my anger at absolutely nothing. And that was after I ripped up a few trees out in the woods, on the razor’s edge of goin’ feral. So the mansion is now minus a few ancient trees and my sanity. I think I’m doin’ alright, considerin’. In my book, Red’s lucky she still has a throat intact.
Because she wouldn’t, if what she said hadn’t stunned me enough to keep me on the human side of things. At least for a while. And she’s only still alive at this very minute because I heard some remorse in her tone. ‘Cause, god help me, I woulda gutted her if she even so much as smiled about LeBeau’s death. Lucky for her, she didn’t. She was upset about it… she even smelled like grief.
They all did. It wasn’t until I was kicking my bag into the closet that day that I recognized the overbearing sense of grief that was strangling the air in the mansion. It was what I noticed when I walked in. They were all fucking grieving over a fallen teammate, one they happily helped into the grave. Self righteous bastards, the lot of ‘em. Where did they get the nerve to grieve for someone they killed off, someone they didn’t even acknowledge as alive ‘til he was dead?
The only thing they deserved to feel was overwhelming, crushing guilt. And even then, they all deserved to be out combing the baron Antarctic, naked, and not stopping until they found the Cajun and dragged his frozen ass home. It’s far from a fittin’ punishment for those hypocrites, but it’s a start. And they are, hypocrites that is. They whine ‘bout X-Men not bein’ killers every time I gut an enemy, but they turn around and kill a teammate. And they don’t even have the decency to make it quick ‘n painless. Nah, where’s the fun in that? Why not just leave him to turn into a Cajun-style popsicle.
That night, after I’d listed off every swear word I knew – plus, a few I made up for the occasion – and I’d cursed each and every one of the X-Men that had left Gumbo behind a hundred times over, I laid down to get some sleep. I was burning to get into one hell of a nightmare, something to fuel my animal rage, anything to keep the flames of anger burning. Because as soon as I slowed down, calmed down enough to think straight… I was gonna realize that all the yellin’ and cussin’ in the world wasn’t gonna bring Remy back from the grave. And that’s not a thought I plan on dealin’ wit’ anytime soon.
It was then, after I fell asleep thinkin’ about not thinkin’ bout Rem’s death, that I had the first “dream.” Weird shit, too. I don’t have a real tight relationship wit’ dreams or anything, since I’m either fightin’ my demons in my nightmares or enjoyin’ the dreamless sleep o’ the dead, but these weren’t normal dreams in the slightest. I dunno if I can even call them dreams; they were more like memories I didn’t know I’d held onto. Especially the first one.
* The sun was actually shining in Westchester - for once – so we were all out trying to enjoy it instead of wasting it in the Danger Room or somethin’ else just as pointless. Even Cyke was chillin’ out – again, for once – on the back porch with Jeannie. They were talkin’ about something, someone I think, but I was too busy to use my Superhero Hearin’ to eavesdrop like usual. Tryin’ to help Jubes on her martial arts takes all the concentration I can muster nowadays. And all the healing factor I can muster. Bein’ a klutz is one thing… but bein’ a klutz with pyrotechnics ain’t all that easy on the teacher.
“I’m havin’ a blast, Wolvie!” She was beaming and feelin’ real damn good about herself and I was rubbing my sore abs, narrowing my eyes into slits.
“We’re done fer today, Jubes.”
“Aww! But Wolvie, I just wanna try-”
“Sorry, kid, but this ol’ man jus’ can’t take it today. Maybe anotha time.” I grunted at her before headin’ over to the porch, to the less klutzy, less hyper-active bores.
“Hey Logan, having fun?” I glared at Scott and his annoyin’ smirk at me lettin’ myself get roped into training even on my day off. “You keep this up, and Jubilee will just be able to threaten people into giving her a ride to the mall.”
“Funny, Slim. If ya ain’t careful, I might jus’ sick her on ya. She might suck, but she can whoop yer ass but good.” I returned his glare with a lopsided grin and glanced over at a slightly smirking Jean. “Lookin’ good today, Red.”
She smirked a little, her delicate cheeks tinting a light pink when I winked and leered at her. This shit was too much fun. Got to hit on Jeannie and annoy O’ Fearless all in one try. Talk ‘bout killin’ two birds with one stone. Shaking her head, Jean went back to the conversation I’d interrupted.
“‘Ro said she’d be here within the hour, they stopped to get something to eat in the city-”
“They?” I cut in, wonderin’ what the hell it was they were talkin’ about right in front of me. Jean opened her mouth to answer but Scott spoke up before she could, still glaring behind those ruby lenses.
“Yes, they. You’d know this stuff if you ever paid any attention in my meetings, Logan.” Oh, Cyke. Lecturin’ even on his day off. The poor repressed, closeted bastard.
“Nah, bub. Then I’d actually have ta be there.” I smirked at his scowl and raised my eyebrow at Jean to get an answer, wit’out the “Be a Team Player” lecture.
“Ororo’s bringing her friend to the mansion today.” I cocked my head ta the side a little, listenin’ and thinkin’ that it sounded familiar. “He’s going to be joining the team – remember?” Oh yeah, now I remember. The kid wit’ card tricks – fan-fuckin’-tastic.
“Yea’, I heard somethin’ ‘bout that,” I muttered, trying to remember what I could about the new addition. “Kinetic energy, or somethin’, right?”
“Yes, that’s right,” she smiled and I grinned back, feelin’ like I passed some kind of silent test. “And here they are now…” Damn telepaths, can pick up people comin’ earlier than my senses. I don’t like bein’ out-sensed.
No matter though, I followed Jeannie and Cyke out around to the driveway all the same. Hey, I might have better things ta do then play twenty questions wit’ the new guy, but I like ta know who I’m sharin’ my den and missions wit’.
A yellow taxi was parked up close to the front door, and I watched the driver get out and open the trunk for the kid’s luggage. As we walked over, Storm climbed out, her platinum hair blowing in the gentle breeze, and I realized the weather was nice because she was in a good mood. At least the kid can’t be that bad; he’s already got Storm smilin’. Not bad at all.
The other door of the cab opened while I was watchin’ Jean and Scott hug Ororo, my arms crossed over my chest. What can I say, I ain’t a hugger. A sudden, intense scent distracted me from thinkin’ further ‘bout my defensive posture; smoke and spice. It was too strong to be from a smoky cigar or anything else in the distance… it had to be coming from the kid getting out of the car.
On second thought, “kid” ain’t ‘xactly the right word. Don’t get me wrong, the kid had to be well under legal age but there was nothing young or immature about the creature stepping out of the car. Long and lean, all length and strength. All angles and aesthetics. He had to be a good six feet, but he carried it easily. That was one of the first things I noticed about him: cat-like agility and grace.
He lazily strolled around the trunk to greet us, and I got my first look at his face. Porcelain skin. High cheekbones. Strong jaw. Full lips. Shiny, auburn hair that matched… his eyes. Holy fuck, those eyes. Red irises against jet black sclera. I caught the surprise in the Boring Duo when his dark sunglasses slid down the line of his perfect nose. They mighta been spooked by ‘em, hell most humans and mutants alike probably were… but since when am I like anyone else?
“My friends… meet the newest X-Man, Gambit.” Storm announced wit’ her standard, regal tone and flare. A slight smirk pulled at the corner of slightly reddened, full lips at the introduction and he nodded politely enough, tho’ the look in his strange eyes was anythin’ but proper and innocent.
“Nice to meet you.” Jean spoke up in a friendly tone, watching with girly glee as he kissed the back of the hand she’d held out.
“Welcome to the team, Gambit,” was all Scott could get out through his gritted teeth at the perceived threat this kid was on his relationship with Red. Damn, I knew I liked this kid. Feeling smug at Scott’s discomfort, I held my hand out in rare greeting.
“Name’s Logan, glad we got some new blood ‘round here.” Now will ya look at that, that was almost friendly. I guess I can be human, when I got the right motivations. Like Cyke’s anger and this kid’s looks. He reached out to shake my head with a firm grip and a slight smirk, greeting with a voice as smoky as his scent.
“Remy Entienne LeBeau, at ya’ service, cher.” *