Author s note: Okay, Gambit is the third Summers brother. I know what you re thinking, this is *not* a new concept. But there were so many arguments on RACMX as to why Gambit couldn't *possibly* be it, that I just had to do this. Hopefully, you'll find this different enough to keep you interested :) Anyway, I would love to hear what you think, so drop me a line at cgalonis@aol.com.
Thicker Than Water
Part II
Scott stared out the window at the vast expanse of clouds that stretched from one horizon to the next, cottony peaks rising up to meet the flawless, deep blue sky. He could easily imagine the clouds were glaciers and that he was flying over some of the wilder parts of Alaska as he had done many times before. But then, the pilot s voice interrupted his thoughts, announcing their descent into New York.
He pressed his forehead against the window, hoping that the coolness there would provide some relief to the pounding behind his eyes. For all of the answers he found at Patricia Stewart s house, he felt as if he came away with even more questions. And the two men that could answer those were at this moment unreachable.
Gambit was his half-brother. It was unfathomable. They lived in the same house for four years and he'd had no idea. Why? Was it coincidence that brought him to the X-Men, or had he maneuvered his way in? That question brought on twenty more, and made Gambit out to be much more manipulative than Scott would ever have guessed.
Remy found me when he was about nineteen. Patricia had taken a seat beside him on the window seat after breaking the news to him, continuing. He told me how he had grown up on the streets of New Orleans, that he was adopted into a family several years before. Something seemed to be haunting him though, and he said he felt a need to find out about his real parents. He spent about six months talking to everyone in New Orleans that he could find that might know of his mother. Nobody knew anything about his father, of course. Then he found someone that knew about me, and this is where he ended up.
She patted Scott on the arm comfortingly, and he almost barked with laughter at the turn of events. Minutes before, it had been he who was comforting her.
"By the time he got here, he was most interested in his father, since he'd already learned a lot about Marietta. I couldn't tell him much, though. I only knew your father s first name and that he was a pilot. I gave him the little pieces of her that I had left to remember her by. I figured they belonged to him more than me. That photo, her diary. She had even put a lock of your father s hair in there."
She laughed quietly. "You should have seen how shocked he was to find out that his real name was Raymond. In her diary, she always called him Raymie. I guess to the French ear, Raymie quickly became Remy."
"What happened to him after she died?" he asked hollowly, trying to picture the man he knew as a little boy. "How old was he?"
"He was only five. Nobody could find him after she was killed. Of course, my father didn't care enough to spend any real effort in looking for him. I went down to collect her body and some of her things. I stayed for a couple of weeks, hoping he would turn up. Some of her neighbors said that the boy was already used to hiding out when she had a trick with her. Their speculation was that he saw her murder, ran away and was too scared to return. The police weren't much help, either."
They were quiet for a while and Scott tried to imagine a five-year old boy alone on the streets of a big city. Gambit had never made a big secret of that part of his life, but hearing it from a third party s point of view made him wonder how anyone that young could survive on his own that way.
"Have you known Remy for long?" she asked.
He snorted. "We lived and worked together for four years." He looked at her and his mouth quirked into a sad smile. "He never said anything."
"But he gave you the picture, right? He must have wanted you to know."
Scott shook his head. "Remy's not around. We believe he may be dead. A mutual friend found the picture in his belongings and gave it to me. For obvious reasons."
"Oh my. Dead? Are you certain?"
He caught the sadness in her voice, and immediately regretted his words. *Alex is dead.* There had been no comforting words to make that announcement easier.
He hadn't considered that this woman might have come to care for Remy. "I m sorry. No, we don t know for sure."
"He kept in touch with me over the years, sending me letters occasionally." Scott was mildly surprised. He didn't think of Gambit as much of a letter-writer.
"I got one just a little over a month ago," she continued.
"A month?" At her nod, he continued. "Then I was mistaken. He must be alive. Did he, by any chance, say where he was?"
"No, he didn't say much at all. But the overall tone was just sad, somehow."
There hadn't been much to tell after that. Patricia invited him to stay for dinner, seeming to enjoy the opportunity to reminisce about her sister. Scott stayed, hoping that something might come up that would give him a clue as to where Gambit went from there.
Had he found out who his their father was before he joined the X-Men? If so, how? There was nothing left in the envelope that pointed to a search for Christopher Summers. Scott supposed that it could have been entirely a coincidence that brought Gambit to the X-Men where he would, of course, not only find out who Corsair was but also have the opportunity to meet him. But he couldn't bring himself to believe in coincidence in this case.
The plane touched down. He gathered his bag and resigned himself to the fact that he wasn't going to get any more answers until he had a chance to see Remy again and ask him. And that wasn't likely to happen any time soon. For now, he had his wife to worry about, and it was time to go home. He squeezed his eyes shut against his headache, wishing for the thousandth time for his wife s comforting presence through the link they used to share.
"Rough trip?"
His eyes shot open as he realized that he was about to run right into Logan as he walked through the gate.
"Logan, what are you doing here? I thought Jean s dad was going to pick me up."
"Yeah, well change of plans. Jean's at the mansion.
"What happened? Is she all right?" He'd only been gone for twenty-four hours.
"Nothin' happened. Corsair showed up last night. He finally got the message that Crawler sent from Muir Island for you. Jean came down this morning."
"He's here? At the mansion?" Scott couldn't believe his luck. While he almost wished that it was Gambit that had shown up instead, he had more than enough questions for his father as well.
"'S what I said." They started walking through the crowd toward the jeep that Logan illegally parked in the loading zone. "So, what d ya find out? Our boy up to no good like we thought?"
"Actually No." He d been wondering what, if anything, he would tell the others about what he d learned. It turns out that it was nothing like we thought at all, he added vaguely.
And Logan pried, with one eyebrow raised in curiosity.
"And it s a long story. And, I need to talk to my father first. I'll tell you about it later, okay?"
Logan merely shrugged as if it didn't matter to him if Scott told him or not. Which in part was true. The man was religious about respecting another s privacy, as long as it didn't hurt someone that he loved.
"Corsair knows why you went down there."
"Does he now?"
If Logan recognized the sarcasm in his voice, he didn't comment on it.
"Well, when Jean arrived alone, he immediately asked where you were. Jean told him about the package we found, and that you went in search of more info."
"And what was his reaction?"
"Same as yours, I guess. Angry, mostly."
Scott wondered if Corsair had any inkling just what photograph they found. And what his true reaction was if he realized the significance of his going to Montgomery. He'd know soon enough.
They arrived a little over an hour later. He found his father and Jean in the professor s study. It was sparsely furnished, not yet refurbished after Bastion s expropriation of all of the mansion s contents. But the room had served as the receiving room for Alex s memorial service. In the corner, his photo, surrounded by flowers and votive candles, remained. It was if the X-Men had been reluctant to remove it, and Scott was not surprised that the flowers were all fresh. He had no doubt that was Storm s doing.
"Scott, you re home." Jean uncurled herself from an armchair next to the memorial, and came to greet him with a kiss and a hug. He held onto her tightly, wanting to tell her everything that had happened. She had already gone to bed last night when he called, and he'd told her mother not to disturb her. He was still worried for her. She tended to sleep a lot more, and he knew that it was another sign of her depression.
"Son, it s good to see you." He suffered a brief, more awkward embrace with his father.
"Dad," he said, by way of greeting. "I guess you got my message."
Corsair glanced at the memorial and back. "Yes, I did. I should have been here."
"Yeah, you should have." Corsair lifted his chin fractionally at the slight jab, and Scott thought he saw a flash of pain in his eyes. He knew it wasn't fair, but with the story of his father s transgression so fresh in his mind, he couldn't summon any regret.
Jean knew how hurt he was that his father had not been there for Alex's funeral, and tried to steer the conversation away. What did you find out in Alabama? Unfortunately, it wasn't a topic that would ease the tension.
"Yes, what was that traitor," Corsair spat the word, "doing trying to connect me with the murder of some prostitute? And where's this picture of me?"
Scott choked back a bitter laugh at his father s outrage. Without a word, he retrieved the photostrip from his pocket and handed it over. He watched as his father's face melted from outrage to surprise and confusion. When he finally looked up, his expression was more guarded, but Scott thought he saw something else there, perhaps remorse.
"She was the woman that was murdered? The prostitute?" Corsair asked, his face ashen.
"Yeah, Dad. What did you think? Sorry, it s been fun, but it s getting a little too serious now? Oh, here s some money for an abortion. Have a nice life. No looking back, no repercussions?" He was aware that his voice was rising, of Jean standing between the two of them, trying to make sense of the conversation, but he couldn't tear his eyes away from his father.
"It was a mistake."
"A mistake?" Scott caught himself, and lowered his voice. "You call cheating on your pregnant wife a mistake? Getting your lover pregnant, then not even owning up to it? That was a mistake?"
Corsair stepped in, so that the two men were only inches apart. His voice was deceptively soft. "Who do you think you are to question my affair? If I m not mistaken, you were a married man when Jean came back."
Scott recoiled from the verbal slap. "That was Different?"
"Why, because Jean was your soul mate and you only married Maddie because she reminded you of Jean?" He stepped away and paced across the room.
Turning back, he added, "At least I had the gumption to stay with *my* wife and son."
"Corsair, Scott, please!" Jean was visibly distressed, imploring her husband and her father-in-law to calm down.
"I'm sorry, Jean, Corsair said. I love you like the daughter you are, but I won't be called on the carpet by my son when he s in this self-righteous snit for something that he s equally guilty of."
He turned back to his son. "My sin was against your mother, not you."
Scott snorted, but didn't comment. Deep down, he knew that his father was right. As much as he wanted to argue that his leaving Maddie for Jean was different, he would only be making excuses. But he wasn't placated, there was so much more at stake here.
As if following his train of thought, Corsair asked, wearily, "So where does Gambit fit into all of this?"
Scott barked a short, dry, humorless laugh. He had gone over several scenarios in his head on how he was going to tell his father. Most of them had gone as well as this conversation. He just hadn't expected it to happen immediately upon his return. Drained, emotionally and physically, he looked his father square in the eye.
"He's your son, Dad."
"That s impossible!"
"What? Are you sure?"
Jean's and Corsair's shocked exclamations clamored for his attention, but it was Corsair that he responded to. "Impossible? I guess not." He knew he was only making things worse, but he couldn't bite back the sarcasm. "If you wanted her to have an abortion, you probably should have stuck around long enough to make sure she got one."
His father bristled, anger glinting in his eyes. For a fleeting moment, Scott thought he might actually raise a hand to hit him. Then his shoulders sagged.
"I was stupid. I was young and foolish and thought I was getting away with something. When she told me she was pregnant, I panicked. I realized how close I was to losing your mother and you. And Alex had just been born He trailed off for a moment before mentally shaking himself. I couldn't bear the thought of losing all of that, he repeated. I gave her the money and ran."
Scott blew out a long sigh, the anger draining out of him with it. In a flat, tired voice, he filled his father in on the rest of the story. "Well, apparently, her father kicked her out of the house and she used the money to go to New Orleans instead."
After she had the baby and couldn't make ends meet, she turned to prostitution. She was killed, and Remy was orphaned when he was five, and well, the rest is common knowledge."
Corsair stared at the picture in silence for a long time then handed it back to Scott as if he couldn't bear to look at it any longer. "Are you sure? Maybe this is some sort of scam of Gambit s. How do we know for sure he s who is says he is?"
Scott was unfazed by the questions. He d had several similar arguments with himself last night after the initial shock wore off. He shrugged.
"First of all, Gambit never said anything at all. He went to Patricia Stewart, Marietta s sister, *seven* years ago, looking for his parents. She didn't know too much about you. But she gave him that picture and he hung onto it for seven years. Now sometime during that time, he must have figured out who you were who we were whether before or after he joined the X-Men. But either way, he never said a word. Seems to me, if he was planning some sort of scam, he'd have to say something to make the scam work."
"Why do you suppose he never told us?" Jean asked. She'd been fairly quiet up until this point, but he could see that she was just as shocked as he had been.
He shook his head. "That s the million-dollar question. And one only Gambit can answer. I guess we'll have to wait until he turns up."
A knock at the door interrupted anything further that Corsair or Jean might have asked as the tall, graceful, feline form of Corsair s lover poked her head in. "Hello, Scott." She purred.
Scott nodded. "Hepzibah."
"I'm sorry to interrupt, but Corsair, it is time. If we do not leave in ten minutes, we will miss our gate."
Looking at Scott with regret, Corsair answered, "I'll be right there, Hepzibah."
"You're leaving?" It sounded more like an accusation than Scott had intended.
"I'm sorry, I have to."
"You just arrived Scott, he can t stay." Jean placed a placating hand on his arm. "That's why I came down this morning instead of waiting until you came home."
"I'm sorry, Son. I'll come back as soon as I can, I promise. We'll talk more then." Scott could only gape at him as he headed out the door. He stopped at the threshold, and turned back. "When you see him Gambit tell him, for what it s worth, I m sorry."
Then he left.
"Yeah, for what it s worth." Scott spat out. "He can't spend a few days here to mourn a son he knew, why should he spend an hour to talk about a son he just found out about?"
Jean insinuated herself into his arms, until he wrapped them around her and dropped his forehead to rest against hers. "You re not being very fair, you know she told him. He was very upset over Alex s death. He s had a week since he received your message to grieve for him. She tugged at his shirt slightly. And, you did just spring this on him."
He sighed deeply. "Yeah, well, sometimes, it would be nice to have a normal father that I could just call up when I wanted to instead of a space-hopping buccaneer whose availability depends on when a stargate opens up."
"What are you going do about Gambit? We don t even know if he s still alive."
"He is." He told her briefly about the letter that Patricia had received last month. "I suppose if he shows up, I'll ask him about it, but beyond that, what is there to be done about it?"