Thicker Than Water
Part III
"Cajun’s home."
Scott’s eyes automatically sought out Jean where she sat across the room talking animatedly with the couple they’d invited to dinner. She was laughing at something the woman next to her had said when she noticed his gaze. She looked at him with a mildly curious expression, no doubt wondering who was on the phone.
He excused himself and took the cordless phone into the kitchen. "When?"
"Yesterday. ‘Roro and Kitty ran into him in Seoul."
"Seoul?" For three months, he’d been wondering where Gambit might be: New Orleans, France, New York, Monte Carlo. Southeast Asia hadn’t been anywhere on his list of possibilities.
Logan briefly told him about the circumstances that had led the two women to Korea to save the Juggernaut and their run-in with Gambit. "Storm managed to talk him into comin’ back."
"Have you said anything to him?"
"Didn’t see that as bein’ my place. ‘Roro feels the same way. " Logan and Ororo had been the only other people that he had told prior to returning to Alaska. They were nearly as stunned at the revelation as he had been. Ororo had been particularly troubled after he admitted his doubts that Gambit’s coming to the X-Men had been coincidental. If that were true, then his meeting and rescuing Storm in Cairo may not have been either. And for that to be true, he must have followed her. And if that were true… The questions were never-ending.
"So, should we expect ya back anytime soon?"
"Yeah, as soon as we can get a flight."
"We can come get ya," Logan offered.
"That’s all right. I’ve had three months to figure out what I was going to say to him and I still don’t know. A few days probably won’t make a difference, but I’ll take them."
Their homecoming was a much more cheerful event this time around despite any misgivings Scott had. As much as he looked forward to finally getting some answers, he was somewhat apprehensive about confronting Remy. But, he was determined to have a calm, rational discussion with him and to keep it from deteriorating into the same type of shouting match he’d had with his father.
Logan had picked them up at the airport, accompanied by Kurt and Kitty who insisted on stopping at Harry’s on the way home. Ororo, Peter and Rogue joined them there, and Scott found himself relaxing and enjoying the evening. Gambit’s name only came up once during the evening when Kitty asked Rogue why he hadn’t come. Rogue was fairly noncommittal and left soon afterward. After she left, nobody seemed willing to hazard a guess as to what was going on between the two of them, and Scott found himself wondering if they would be able to work things out together.
He found Remy the next morning in the garage, working on his bike. Scott watched him from the doorway for a few moments in silence. Crouched down in front of the motorcycle with his back to the door, Remy either didn’t notice him or just chose to ignore him. He finally walked around to the other side of the bike until he was in his direct line of sight. Remy looked up, but didn’t say anything.
"Heard you were back," Scott started.
Remy’s eyes narrowed as he rose to face him. His expression was closed as he absently wiped the grease from his hands and watched him with an unflinching gaze. Scott’s first impression was that his stance was challenging and he wondered if Remy knew that he had found out his secret. But then he saw a flicker of something more uncertain and recognized a passive resignation in his eyes. He realized with a start that Remy probably expected him to censure him for his part in the Mutant Massacre or at least for covering it up, and he was preparing to accept it. And, he realized further, with a twinge of guilt, that’s exactly what this conversation would have been about had there not been more important and personal matters to discuss.
Having Remy on the defensive was not the way that he wanted to start. "You should have come to Harry’s last night. We missed you."
That threw him a curve. Bewilderment flashed across his face a moment before settling into wariness as he replied, "I doubt dat, but t’anks anyway."
"Well, maybe another night."
Remy gave him a dubious look before he bent to retrieve the tools strewn about the garage floor. Scott watched him silently as he carefully wiped each with a rag and arranged them neatly in the toolbox beside him. He struggled with what to say next.
Before he could find the words to broach the subject, Remy threw the curve ball back to him. "I heard ‘bout Alex. I’m really sorry."
Scott could only blink at him. He sounded sincere, but had he felt any loss when he’d heard? Did he ever think of Alex and him as brothers, or had he put it out of his mind as easily as he hid the fact the whole time Scott had known him?
He was aware of Remy watching him expectantly, his wariness almost completely replaced by curiosity. "Did y’ wan’ somet’in’?" he asked when Scott didn’t say anything further. He indicated the bike with a nod of his head. "If not, I’m gonna take her out t’ see how she runs."
"Yeah, actually, I did come out here to talk to you about something." Remy rose to return the toolbox to its shelf as Scott continued. "We found the pictures in your room. The one of my… " It was as if time stood completely still as Remy froze at the words, toolbox suspended above the shelf. "…of your parents," Scott finished quietly.
Scott jumped at the metallic clatter as the toolbox was slammed down on the shelf. Remy whirled around, his eyes glowing faintly. "Y' had no right!"
He was taken aback by the fury in his voice. He glanced involuntarily at the other man's hands, half expecting a card, glowing with kinetic charge, to be heading his way. But Remy's hands were merely clenched in fists at his sides. Then his surprise gave way to his own anger. How dare he act so outraged when he's been hiding so many things from them? "No right? I find a photo of my father in your belongings with papers that look like you're trying to implicate him in a murder, and you say that I had no right? My god, I thought you were setting him up for blackmail or selling information to Sinister!"
Remy's head shot up as if he had been slapped and his eyes narrowed, glowing even brighter, if that were possible. "Dat's what it comes down to, ain' it? Never trus' de cajun t'ief. Mus' be up t' no good."
"What was I supposed to think? Tell me that! After finding out that you worked for Sinister before, formed the Marauders for crying out loud, why wouldn't I believe that you were still working for him?"
An unyielding glare was his only answer. Scott clenched his jaws together, trying to rein in his anger. After a few moments, he asked, "Why didn't you ever tell me?"
Red on black eyes rolled heavenward as Remy scoffed, "I am so sick of dat question. Why? Why didn' I tell ev'rybody 'bout workin' for Sinister? Why didn't I tell dem 'bout de Morlocks? Why--"
"This isn't about the Massacre," he cut him off. "With that, even as mad as everyone was that you hid that from us, I could at least understand why you hid it. But this? I can't understand this!"
Remy turned his head to the side, the action underscoring his refusal to answer. Scott shook his head. He'd been a fool to believe that he would get any answers from this man. "And I was determined that this would go better than it had with Corsair," he said to himself, under his breath.
Remy’s attention snapped back to him. "You. Told. Him?" Alarm and indignation filled his voice.
"I did." Scott regretted it immediately. He thought it was only natural that he would question his father about it, and he was faintly irritated that Remy was so indignant about it. But the underlying horror in the other man's eyes made him think twice about it.
"Dieu!" Remy threw his head back, searching the ceiling or beyond. He shook himself and turned back to the shelf.
"I'm sorry," Scott said softly, his anger gone. "I didn't think. He was here after I got back from seeing Patricia Stewart, and I was just mad and confused. I just wanted to ask both of you 'why?'"
Remy turned back around, but didn't look at him. "F’get 'bout it," he said artificially. Scott recognized it as an attempt to dismiss the whole subject, but he wouldn't be swayed.
"Look, I'm just trying to put it all together. It's like a giant puzzle that's almost there, but I'm missing a few key pieces to see the whole picture. I just want those pieces and I'll leave you alone."
Remy shot a look of annoyance at him, but he asked in resignation, "What do y' wan' t' know?"
Besides why? Apparently, he wasn't going to get an answer to that one. So he moved on to the next one that bothered him most. "Coming here. Was that coincidence? Or did you know who he was...who I was beforehand?"
Red eyes bore into him with barely concealed hostility, and Scott was beginning to feel like a cop interrogating a suspect. "I knew before," he replied flatly.
"Did you know who Storm was when you rescued her?" he pressed. Although he could never convince himself that it had been a coincidence, the alternative still stunned him.
Remy's eyes filled with panic. He didn't answer directly, but with the next question, Scott had his answer. "Does she know 'bout dis?"
He nodded.
"Merde! Who didn' y' tell?"
"Other than Corsair and Jean, Storm and Logan are the only two who know."
"De only two?" he mocked. He closed his eyes. "Did y' an' Storm talk 'bout dis? Whether I knew when I met her?"
"We talked of the possibility."
Remy groaned. Scott knew that Ororo would be heart-broken by this, and at the same time, he knew that it was the last thing that Gambit wanted. He cared for her more than anybody else at the mansion with the possible exception of Rogue. And he wasn't even certain that Rogue ranked above her. Scott had no desire to see her hurt either. "She won't know unless you tell her," he offered.
Remy snorted but didn't comment. He looked at Scott evenly. "Is dat all?" He looked desperate to end this conversation.
But Scott wasn't satisfied yet. "Why all the subterfuge? If you knew who we were, why lie to Storm? Why didn’t you just come here yourself?"
The multitude of emotions that had washed across his face at one time or another in the past several minutes melted away as a blank mask slammed into place. He shook his head once. He wasn't going to answer.
Scott sighed in frustration. "Then, how did you find out? Patricia said that she didn't know anything about him other than his first name and that he was a pilot. Not much to go on. And there wasn't anything with the photo. So, where did you go from there?"
Remy continued to glower at him, refusing to answer.
They held each other's stare for a long moment before Scott threw his hands up, his anger returning. "Fine. Forget it. I was obviously stupid for believing that you would be up front with me for once. You get angry when I tell you that I thought you were working for Sinister. Indignant because I didn’t trust you more. But all you do is keep your little secrets like a miser and you don’t give one whit about how they affect other people. Oh, forgive me, you’re worried about how this new pack of lies might affect Storm. You do care about someone other than yourself after all." Remy winced during his speech, but Scott could only look at him in disgust. Then he realized he was more disgusted with himself than anything. After losing Alex, he’d actually begun to think of Remy as a brother. He had hoped that they might be able forge some kind of relationship. He shook his head. "I was a fool to let it matter."
He turned on his heel to storm out only to be halted at the garage door as he heard Remy say, "Sinister tol’ me who y’ were."
The words were spoken so quietly that had they not been amplified by the cavernous space of the empty garage, he would not have heard them at all. He stopped dead in his tracks, as the words sunk in. He’d known, of course, that Sinister knew their relationship, but he assumed that Remy had told him.
He turned around slowly. "When you were working for him?" He forced himself to remain calm. The way Gambit watched him, daring him to react, he knew that he would get nothing more if he gave in to the urge to rant.
"I went t’ him t’ find my father." He turned away, and for a moment, Scott thought that was all he was going to say. Then he started speaking again, haltingly at first, then more steadily as he went on. "I had a contact dat kept tryin’ t’ get me t’ work for him. But I had heard ‘bout him, knew dat he was bad news, and I stayed away. Didn’ wan’ t’ get involved. But den I jus’ ran into a dead-end in tryin’ to figure out who my father was. Ev’ry lead I had went nowhere. Sinister’s name came up den as someone who might be able t’ help me. So de next time my contact tol’ me dat he had a job for me, I took it. He was surprised when I tol’ him I wasn’ int’rested in money if he could tell me who my father was instead. T’ought it was a very unusual payment. But he accepted. If he was surprised when I gave him de information I had, he didn’ show it. Jus’ told me he would do what he could."
Scott could only gape at him, dread clawing at his insides so that he found it almost difficult to breathe. "The Marauders?"
Remy’s eyes met his momentarily before they darted away again. "Oui," he whispered raggedly. "I knew dem all t’ be murderers. Whatever Sinister wanted dem for had t’ be bad news. But I was stupid enough t’ believe dat I could wash my hands of dem once I turned dem over t’ him. I figured whatever dey did after I left wouldn’ be on my conscience." He snorted then. "I didn’ get away, though."
Scott held his breath. He was getting the confession that no one else had, not even those that were at his so-called trial in Antarctica. There had been a lot of speculation about what made a man callous enough to put together a group of some of the most dangerous homicidal maniacs alive. Even if he truly didn’t know what was going to happen in the tunnels that day, nobody could believe he was foolish enough to believe that the purpose for creating them was anything less than diabolical. And now, to find out that what drove him to do it was so closely tied to him, even if indirectly, was horrifying.
Remy went on. "Sinister gave me de data. Not only on who my father was, but dere was information on you in dere. An’ Alex an’ Jean an’ Maddie… Everyt’ing y’ could imagine. I don’ know why I didn’ jus’ take it an’ run. With all de information he gave me, I could’ve found y’ on my own if I wanted. But he offered me another job. One I couldn’ refuse, he said. In exchange, he’d arrange it so I could meet you…and him."
The Massacre. Scott hadn’t realized that he’d spoken aloud, but Remy was shaking his head. "Non. It wasn’ supposed t’ be dat way." His voice was thick and raw. "It wasn’…" His eyes pleaded with Scott to believe him.
He was sure that he’d never seen him so earnest, but Scott couldn’t bring himself to sympathize. "You led cold-blooded killers into those tunnels. What did you expect?"
"Y’ don’ understand. I didn’ know anyt’ing ‘bout de Morlocks. I mean, I knew dey were dere, but I didn’ know ‘bout Sinister’s grand plan to anni’late dem. Dat’s not what I was hired for." He took a deep breath and spoke slowly and deliberately, as if Scott were too obstinate to understand otherwise. "I was hired to break into dis mansion in Wes’chester where dey had some mutant-findin’ computer." Scott’s jaw dropped, as Remy continued. "I was supposed to steal de data and dey were supposed t’ keep de mutants dat lived dere occupied until I could break into de files." He shook his head. "I had done dozens of jobs jus’ like it. I argued wit’ Sinister dat I didn’ need to go t’rough de tunnels, dat I could break any security system anywhere, but he insisted I go dat way." He shrugged. "He was de boss, so I did as he said. I didn’ know until afterwards dat Sinister gave Sabretooth different instructions dan he gave me."
Scott’s mind whirled. It all made perfect sense. They could never figure out why Remy had been there at all. If he hadn’t been there to take part in the massacre, why was he there? They knew he hated Sabretooth almost as much as Logan did, so it wasn’t likely they were working together. And with Sabretooth there, he certainly wasn’t needed to lead them to the Morlocks. Besides, Remy wasn’t a tracker. What he was was a master thief, capable of breaking into the mansion as he had demonstrated on several occasions while testing their security.
Still, he couldn’t help being perplexed. Remy had just told him the entire story behind his involvement in the massacre even though he hadn’t come looking for it. Yet, when he asked him about hiding the truth from him about their relationship, he had thrown up a brick wall.
As if following his train of thought, Remy said, "Y’ wan’ t’ know why I never told you who I was?" His voice was hoarse, raw with emotion that Scott had never been privy to before. "I had a hundred reasons, most of dem jus’ petty, but dat was de one dat always stopped me. I could never tell y’ without tellin’ y’ how I found you. I couldn’t tell anyone ‘bout what I did."
At last, he understood. Still, "You should have trusted us."
Remy’s eyes turned hard. "Trusted you? When y’ never trusted me?"
"After finding out everything you hid from us, we shouldn’t have trusted you," Scott snapped in annoyance. "But the fact is we did. Every time you put on that uniform and fought with the X-Men we trusted you. And you never let us down. You’re wrong. You did earn our trust." He lowered his voice, "Obviously, we never earned yours."
"What does it matter anyway?" Remy asked, anger returning to his eyes. "If I had tol’ you den, would it have made a diff’rence? Honestly?"
Yes! No! Scott bit back his answer. If he were completely honest with himself? He didn’t know.
His silence seemed to rile the other man even more. "I never b’lieved all dat ‘blood is t’icker dan water’ crap," he spat out. "Y’ supposed to love someone jus’ ‘cause dey’re related t’ you? Dat’s bull! De people dat related t’ me never cared ‘bout me. Y’ only care now ‘cause y’ feel like y’ had a right t’ know and I cheated y’ out of it. It doesn’ change a t’ing. It never meant anyt’ing before, it don’ mean anyt’ing now!"
Scott stared at him, wondering what had ever led him to believe he could suddenly make a connection with this man. They had always been at odds with each other. "You’re right. Nothing’s changed." He turned to leave.
"Cyclops." The intended slight didn’t go unnoticed as Scott turned around once more.
"What Gambit?"
"I wan’ de picture of my mother back."
His mother. Not his parents. He had apparently disavowed his father long ago. And his brothers. "Of course. I’ll leave it for you."
He left without giving the other man a chance to say anything further. He was halfway up the steps of the front door when he heard the motorcycle racing out of the driveway, screaming all the way down Greymalkin Lane.