Taken : An Illustrated X-men fanfic by Squeekness.

[squeekness]

(Two)


Henry paced restlessly, frowning as his infirmary began to fill up. First Gambit, then Storm and Jean, followed by Scott. It wasn’t much longer before he got a call from the holding cells. The Clansmen were all sick, Bruce being the worst. Bobby, the watchman most often on guard down with the Clansmen, fell sick next. Finally, the Professor himself started with it. Then came scattered cases throughout the house.

Henry made some frantic calls, warning all students who were out of town not to come home. Maylee and some of the other students had been gone for a week on a field trip and were due to return the next day. He made sure they stayed put and didn’t come any closer. He hoped they had been gone long enough not to be infected in the first place.

Beast wasn’t stupid, he saw the pattern here. Remy had been taken prisoner by Jael and been returned relatively unscathed. Logan and Storm picked him up. Logan’s being germ free was no surprise, but now Storm was ill. Henry feared this was no accident nor just an ordinary flu being passed around by close friends. He finished more scans on Gambit’s bloodwork and confirmed his suspicions that he was dealing with a man made virus here. Jael had thanked Gambit for his intrusion by infecting him with some kind of bug. The problem was that Remy got around, the thief had passed it on to others who passed it on further still. Bruce had to have been infected by Wolverine who had been with Remy only a few hours before. There was no way of knowing how many people had been exposed.

Hopefully this was just some kind of troublesome intestinal thing. Even so, Henry knew all too well how serious these things could turn out to be. He was stubborn and not ready to buy into Kimble’s belief that this thing was deadly, not just yet. He spent a great deal of time in the lab, cross checking this thing against all of the known viruses in his massive computer main frame and looking for a possible cure. So far, his attempts to treat the symptoms were helping, but only delaying the virus from running its inevitable course. The b-tch simply refused to die.

Kimble stayed in the infirmary to help out. Henry had put him to work gratefully, asking the Siskan to tend to the sick by making sure they had water, blankets, and other minor forms of relief. As capable as Kimble was, he was soon swamped and Henry gave Fallen and Logan a call to give him some relief. They both came quickly and went to work taking care of the sick. It was helpful that these three would be resistant to the bug and could be relied upon to aid the sick without coming down with it themselves.


Kimble came over to Bruce’s bedside with a basin of warm water and a rag. He’d been making the rounds and Bruce was next. "Yer sick, too?"

"Yeah. Lucky me. It’s been a while. Forgot how much it sucks."

"Glad I don’ git sick," Kimble commented. "This don’ look like too much fun."

"Trust me it isn’t." Bruce gave a grateful sigh as Kimble began to gently clean him, washing away the sweat from his heavy fever. "Why haven’t you come to see me down at the lock up?"

"I tried. That assh-le Logan wouldn’t let me. Said I wuz some kinda security risk, the jerk. Maybe he figures I’m so desperate fer comp’ny I’ll be huntin’ Vally down next."

"Still having trouble making friends?"

Kimble laughed a little. "Fallen always useta joke around that I wuzn’t properly socialized or sumpthin’. Guess it’s really true. Folks here don’t care fer me much. At least Remy’s nice to me. He plays with me when he can. He took me out the other night. I gots ta go dancin’. I had a real nice time."

Bruce could hear Kimble’s love for his friend. "You and him are lovers?"

"Heh, I wish," Kimble replied with a snicker. "Naw, he don’ like me like that. ‘S a downright shame. He’s so pretty, I cain’t hardly stands it."

"He is a charmer," Bruce agreed, sharing Kimble’s appreciation. "But he’ll never be my Justin."

"He’s good enough for me. Yer Justin didn’ always play so nice," Kimble commented, remembering the savage beating he’d been given.

"That was only because he thought you might steal me away."

"Guess I don’ hafta worry ‘bout that no more."

"What? Justin or stealing me away?"

"Yeah. Like I’d want a sweatin’, stinkin’, barfin’, used up old man like you," Kimble teased affectionately with a laugh. He brushed back Bruce’s sweat soaked hair, washing his face some more.

Bruce grabbed his wrist. "Stay with me," he said a little too seriously, then embarrassed, retreated with a short laugh. "I feel terrible and I don’t want to be alone."

Kimble grinned. "Shure."

Kimble made Bruce more comfortable with a fresh johnny and a change of sheets. He then saw a book at Bruce’s bedside and picked it up, it was the Hobbit, by J. R. R. Tolkien. "You readin’ this?"

"Yeah, the Professor gave that to me. He said I would like it because it had dragons and castles in it. Why don’t you read it to me?"

"Shure."

Kimble found a spare chair and dragged it over. He read for Bruce quite a while, enjoying the book very much himself. Bruce had nodded off somewhere a few pages back before Kimble noticed and he set the book down with a smile. They would finish it later, he promised. He clicked off the little light next to Bruce’s bed and gave him a gentle kiss on his forehead before withdrawing. He refreshed his basin of water and made his way to the next bed.

Rogue was there. She was just starting with the sickness, a reward for bringing Storm down here earlier. She was invulnerable to most forms of attack, but not this. Kimble came by and said a little stiffly, "Kin I get ya anathin’?"

She turned her head to look at him and gave him a small smile. "It’s hot in here."

" ‘S just you, kid," he said, warming up a little. He was conflicted in his feelings about her. She was an alpha and beautiful like all the others, but she was Remy’s girl. The one who had hurt his friend so deeply without seeming to care. Still, she was sick and her face was shiny with the sweat from her fever. He wet a cloth and began to gently wipe her face.

A short distance away, Logan lounged in the doorway to Henry’s office, taking a break. He shook his head when he saw Kimble go to work. He snapped his fingers to get Henry’s attention and pointed when Henry looked up. Beast scowled at being interrupted, but when he saw what was happening — or rather what wasn’t ---- he grunted softly in surprise. Kimble was touching Rogue with unprotected hands and nothing was happening.

"Well, I’ll be damned," Henry whispered softly, not wanting to get Kimble’s attention.

"Don’t suppose this little bug inhibits people’s powers?"

"No. No it doesn’t. It can only be because he’s not organic."

Rogue had noticed this as well. Her eyes had opened wide in surprise, but she said nothing and Kimble continued to massage her with the cloth, oblivious. There were so many alphas here, he simply couldn’t be bothered to keep track of everybody’s powers. It didn’t register as anything out of the ordinary when she lay her hand over his and closed her eyes, enjoying the touch of his skin against hers. He knew she was suffering and figured she only wanted some comfort. "Are ya thirsty?"

"Yeah," she said, wanting to keep him there.

He reached over to her night stand and filled her cup with some ice water from a pitcher. She drank it and was grateful. Her eyes never left his face. "How’s Remy?"

"He’s sleepin’ last I checked," Kimble replied, his voice hardening up again. Her mentioning Gambit’s name had reminded him of just who she was. "Manny’s close by. He ain’t that sick yet. I’ll send him over to ya."

Rogue wanted to protest as Kimble moved away, but saw from Kimble’s posture he was done with her and only wanted to leave. She couldn’t hide the crestfallen expression on her face. She had found someone who could touch her without shields or barriers and he wanted nothing to do with her.

"How long b’fore that’s trouble?" Logan complained, moving back inside Henry’s office where he wouldn’t be heard by the pilot. Kimble had come closer, speaking to Manny as promised.

"Kimble is Remy’s friend. I can see he’s very respectful of that. She’s probably the only one here he won’t go for."

"Maybe he wasn’t the one the I was worried about."

Henry just shrugged and went back to his computer. He had much more pressing problems to wrestle with at the moment. Logan went back to his watchful post. He saw Manny sitting next to Rogue and her distracted eyes, she continued to track Kimble as he moved about the room and he sighed softly with impatience. This he did not need. Kimble was trouble enough on his own.

----------------------------------

Kimble kept moving as he made his rounds and paused when he passed Joseph’s bed. The Clansman was lying curled up tight, unable to hide his fear at what was going on. He had never seen so many people sick like this. Both Bruce and Valentin were much worse off than he was and it frightened him. This was not an enemy he knew how to fight, especially not on a world as alien and strange as this. He was a warrior from a place little better than Medieval times. Here he was surrounded by alphas and machines he had no clue about. He was very much alone.

"Hey, Joe," Kimble whispered softly.

Joseph startled at the sound of Kimble’s voice and immediately threw up his defenses. The rude arrogance returned to this eyes and he sniffed, "What do you want, freak?"

Kimble tried not to show how much the derision still stung. He put on his best face and replied, "Jus’ seein’ if ya wanted anathin’."

"I-I’m a little thirsty," Joseph replied, trying not to look so weak.

Kimble smiled, knowing better. He went to Joseph’s table and poured him some fresh water. He had freshened his wash basin of water before coming by and now wiped down the face of the man who had once killed him. Joseph couldn’t hide his relief at the coolness of the water. He, like Rogue, was hot with fever. Inspired by Joseph’s positive reception to his attention, Kimble gently stripped the man down and began to wash him for real. "Been wantin’ ta do this fer a long time. Ya stink, Joe. Honestly," he grumbled with a laugh.

"How is my Master?" Joseph asked, trying to change the subject. He wasn’t fighting Kimble’s attentions, however, the water was cool on his parched, dry skin.

"Same as the rest, I guess. Maybe a little worse. I heard Henry say maybe it’s cuz this is a strange place fer yous guys. You ain’t been sick here b’fore. Makes sense, I guess."

"The Clan will come for us," Joe said, trying to sound confident.

"Maybe. You an’ Vally kin go back, I could give a crap less. Me an’ Fallen’re stayin’. Think Brucie wants ta stay, too," Kimble said as he continued to wash Joseph down. He had never really seen any of the Clansmen up close like this and he noted that the man’s body was covered with scars, probably from the many battles he’d fought at the side of his Master, Valentin. This man was a fighter, a warrior like most of the X-men here and Kimble thought that because of that, Joseph had a better chance of fitting in here than himself. It made the pilot feel a little jealous.

"You can have him. Stupid little fa--ot boy," Joseph said in a pale imitation of his Master’s disdain. His voice lacked conviction, he was afraid.

"Henry sez this is a fine place. I’ll just bet the Professor could use a guy with a sword," Kimble said, surprising himself by trying to set Joseph at ease. He thought the chances of the Clan making it out here were remote and thought Joseph might think that way too. Kimble hoped that by offering Joseph what had been offered to himself might set the man at ease. Besides being a fighter, Joe was also real, a living creature and something he would never be. It wasn’t hard for the Siskan to see Joseph being accepted more easily than himself. "Maybe you should think about stayin’ on."

"I already have a Master. I do not need another," Joe replied arrogantly. "Leave me. I’m tired."

"All right. You want anathin’ else, just holler," Kimble said and packed up his things. He would need a fresh rag and basin, Joseph had been filthy. He backed off and watched as the man’s facade of strength fell and he curled up, hiding once more.

Kimble lowered his head and walked away, a little sad now. He bumped into Fallen who gave him a gentle squeeze. He set his basin down and followed her out to the hallway for a smoke. He curled up beside her as she sat against the wall and she laughed as she put an arm around him. She whispered that she loved him and gave him a kiss. He smiled to himself, loving her attention. He closed his eyes and let her gently pet him, really needing this. He dozed for a while, warm and safe in her embrace. When he opened his eyes an hour or so later, she was still holding him. He sat up and stretched, but groaned when he saw more beds had been added to the line in the hallway.

"Time to go back to work," Fallen said softly and helped him up.

To read more click here: http://www.fanfiction.net/s/2599716/1/Consequences

 

[squeekness]

(Three)

The next afternoon, Kimble was still making the rounds, passing by each bed with a laundry cart that had a board on it he was using as a tray. He had been doing this so long, he had worked out a system. He had a basin of warm water and some soft towels and rags, he would bathe his new charges and change their sheets as he went around, making sure they all had enough blankets or anything else they needed. He had been trained to change their IV bags and would help them limp to the bathroom if they needed assistance. Bruce was not the only one he read to. He was proving his worth to Henry time and time again as he worked tirelessly, not needing as much sleep as a human nurse would have.

The suffering of the people around him didn’t leave him unscathed, however. He was hurting deep inside by the vibrations of their pain and discomfort. His only recourse was to help them as much as possible, letting their gratitude soothe his jangled nerves. When it got to be too much, he would go out in the hall and drink a Coke and have a cigarette, moving further and further away as more beds were added to the growing line out here. Almost all the students and household staff were sick and Henry simply didn’t have enough room in the infirmary for everyone. Fortunately, he had plenty of fold out beds and was able to place everyone close by.

Sometimes Fallen would come and sit with him and they’d lean against one another, not speaking but smoking silently and taking comfort just from each other’s presence. She was relieved Maylee had gone on the field trip and wasn’t here to be sick.

Kimble spent as much time as he could spare at Remy’s bedside. His Cajun friend was quite weak now and had stopped talking some time ago. Gambit spent most of his time dozing or laughing quietly when Kimble would tell him jokes to raise his spirits. Kimble would read to him softly and wash him down whether he needed it or not. He wanted Remy to know he was there and would hold his hand, using his empathy to ‘read’ him and keep tabs on his condition. He would smile when Remy rewarded him with a weak squeeze now and again. Kimble couldn’t hide his worry in spite of the small reassurances he was given, Gambit wasn’t getting any better.

More and more patients were being added, the infirmary had now been extended to include the gym and other large rooms that could be spared so Kimble was busy once more. He was meeting many new X-men by the minute as he made his rounds. There were some he already knew – Scott, Jean, the Professor. Now there were more. He washed the fevered face of Neal Sharra and gave young Kitty Pryde a chance to get a closer look at him as he changed her sweat soaked bed sheets and brought her a fresh pitcher of water for her poor parched throat. He gave some comfort to Bobby without saying much, not wanting to refuse the man comfort, but not feeling his friendliest since their last ugly encounter. The same was true for Warren. While Kimble hadn’t been told he was the culprit behind the Danger Room fiasco, Warren knew it and felt a little guilty. Kimble sensed his discomfort without knowing the reason, guessing it was just more lack of acceptance for being Gambit’s friend. Kimble brought him some ice chips to soothe his throat and simply moved on.

Kimble had done those rounds when he finally made it back to Bruce’s bedside. He stopped abruptly, horrified at how quickly his old friend had deteriorated, it had been a few hours since he last passed by. Gambit was the first to fall ill, but even he was hanging on in his misery and not getting much worse over time. Bruce wasn’t so lucky. He was so very pale and his eyes bruised, his nose was red and his breath came in ragged, choking gasps. It was obvious he wouldn’t last much longer. He was dying.

It chilled Kimble to see it. It brought back vivid memories of Sheyman’s death and he couldn’t stop the tears that spilled down his cheek. He went Bruce’s side and lay a hand on his forehead. "Hey, Brucie? Kin ya sees me?" he whispered softly, unable to hide the quiver of pain there.

Bruce didn’t respond, but lay weak and still, mechanically gasping for air as he waited to die.

The Professor lay on the bed on the other side of Bruce. He turned at the sound of Kimble’s voice. "H-how is he?"

Kimble closed his eyes and used his empathy to ‘read’ Bruce. "He’s sufferin’. He needs ta go, but he’s just here waitin’. What happened? He wuzn’t so bad yesterday."

The Professor already knew this, he just wanted to see how much Kimble could pick up with his empathy. As sad as the circumstances were, this was a good opportunity for Kimble to learn more about his powers and maybe help Bruce along at the same time. "It would seem this virus takes a much harder toll on our normal human friends. If you truly care for him, you can help him."

Kimble looked up at him with eyes full of woe. "How?"

"Ease his pain."

"I kin only do that when I’m havin' sex," Kimble said a little harshly, voicing his opinion of the X-men’s censure of his needs. It was true he’d only been able to consciously affect the mind of others while he was ‘working’ and then it was only to enhance their sexual enjoyment and relieve the pain of their illnesses. He had never eased anyone on to the next world, not even his father, Sheyman. He didn’t think he could nor had it occurred to him to try.

"Have you ever tired to do it without such close contact?" Charles continued, working around Kimble’s obvious criticism.

"No, I guess not."

"Do it now, Kimble. Think of those things that please you most and take his pain."

Kimble crouched down and closed his eyes. He gently petted the hair of Bruce’s head, calming himself as he considered what to do. He thought of Raul and how wonderful it had been to lay with him. He thought of Raul’s smell and the heat of his body, something Bruce would have been sure to appreciate.

Bruce’s response was almost immediate. He shuddered slightly as his pain left him and his breathing smoothed out as he relaxed. His eyes flickered open and he breathed softly, "Justin....?"


Kimble didn’t answer, but was pleased he’d been able to reach out to Bruce and actually make some kind of contact. Encouraged, he concentrated even further. He ran through his tryst with Raul in slow loving detail, savoring every moment and the love he’d felt from the man.

Bruce laughed, coughing slightly. "I knew you’d come for me, Justin....I love you so much...It’s been awful with you gone. I’m so tired....Can we go now?"

Kimble shivered as he sensed Bruce’s readiness. "I’m here...Won’t be long," he whispered softly, taking Justin’s role in Bruce’s last conversation. He didn’t have enough files to use Justin’s voice, but did his best to smooth his speech out enough to cover his accent.

"Take me with you....I want to go....I’m so tired."

"I love you, too. Time to go," Kimble said gently, still stroking Bruce’s head. He meant every word, loving Bruce so deeply at that moment, and he let the Clansman know it. He shuddered as Bruce took one last heaving breath and grew still, his smile for Justin still in place.

Kimble opened his eyes and whimpered as he saw Bruce’s shine fade and shimmer away. More tears spilled from his eyes and he keened sharply, raising Henry’s attention from the other end of the room. Kimble backed away from the bed and covered his face, falling to his knees as he was swamped with emotions and memories of his father. Sheyman had died and he couldn’t stop it, now Bruce was gone as well. He thought of Remy and the fear of losing him was more than he could bear. He cried out again, a loud heaving sob of agony.

Henry rushed over to him, concerned.

"Help him. He felt Bruce’s passing," Charles rasped.

"What should I do?"

"Let him feel your love."

Beast crouched next to Kimble on floor and put his big blue arms around him. "Easy, Kim. His suffering is over."

" ‘S so unfair! Why’d he hafta git sick!?" Kimble complained, sobbing loudly.

"Sometimes things just happen. There’s no reason why, it just is. I don’t think he’d want you to suffer for him. Think of the fun you had together and remember him that way, not like this."

Kimble turned to him and bawled freely, lost in Henry’s massive embrace, craving his heat and the gentle vibration of loving concern that came from him. It surprised Kimble to feel it, the only one besides Fallen that had ever made him feel this level of affection was Gambit. He cried and Henry rocked him until he grew quiet and looked as though he wanted to sleep.

Henry eased the pilot to his feet and started to move him to his own personal quarters, wanting to lay him down to rest somewhere quiet.
Beast glanced at Bruce’s face as he walked Kimble away. He and Bruce had become good friends back on Cerise and he was sad Bruce was gone. Valentin wasn’t faring much better, but Joseph was hanging on as well as the rest of the mutants here. He lay two beds down, lying very still and quiet. Bruce’s death and Valentin’s worsening condition had clearly frightened him even more than he had been before. He obviously feared he was next. Henry had little hope to offer him.

Fallen came down to the Med bay in a rush, alerted to Kimble’s needs by a telepathic message from the Professor. She had gone for some rest herself and had been awakened by the urgency of Charles’ request. It had taken her a few minutes to arrive from the Lucky Dragon. Kimble was already asleep on Henry’s bed by the time she got there, but she crawled into the bed with him and curled up around him, holding him close. He took some Ristle from her and smiled in his sleep, whispering her name. She gave him a comforting squeeze and drifted back to sleep herself.

Beast covered them up and then left. He still had work himself to do. He was tired and sore and was trying to fight off the all too familiar symptoms he felt rising up in his own body. His altered metabolism gave him some measure of defense against most disease and injury, but it wouldn’t be long before he himself would be sick, he knew.

He passed by Remy’s bed and looked over the monitors. In all the excitement of Bruce’s passing, Remy had silently passed from being merely asleep into true unconsciousness. Things were getting worse. How long before this one, too, passed away? Henry thought of Kimble’s distress at Bruce’s passing and didn’t think Kimble would recover from another great loss.

He brushed Remy’s hair back and racked his brain for anything he could come up with to help his people but came up empty. He was grateful to have Fallen and Kimble here. Usually a situation like this would leave him Logan as his only option. Kimble...perhaps he could find yet another use for Fallen’s marvelous Siskan.

He was going to have to take some measures to ensure that his people would be cared for. If Kimble learned as fast as Fallen claimed, perhaps he could be of further help. If he could give Kimble a crash course in medicine, maybe he could carry on in his place if his own condition worsened.

--------------------------------------------


A couple of hours later, Kimble came out of Henry’s quarters, rubbing his eyes. He was still tired and sad, but couldn’t sleep any longer. He decided to make his way out to the hallway and to his new best friend -- the Coke machine -- but was stopped by a soft voice. "Do you have a moment, herr Kimble?"

Kimble stopped to see who had spoken. It was Nightcrawler, in bed now himself, a little late in getting sick, but no less ill for it. He held out a blue fuzzy hand, gesturing for Kimble to sit.

"Of course," Kimble replied, always ready to be helpful, especially if he could give comfort to someone so gravely ill. He found Kurt’s bedside chair and sat, scootching up close to take Kurt’s offered hand. He said nothing, but couldn’t hide his fascination with Kurt’s bizarre appearance, Kimble loved the dark blue fuzzy plush of his skin and his gleaming yellow eyes. He thought Kurt was pretty.

Kurt noticed Kimble’s admiration, but didn’t comment on it. It wasn’t the first time his odd looks got him attention. He gave Kimble’s hand a gentle squeeze. "I am sorry for your loss," he said. No one had missed Kimble’s cry of woe, it had been a shameless outpouring of love and grief.

Kimble sniffed a little and nodded in thanks. " ‘S’okay. Brucie’s in a better place now I guess. I don’ think he ever wuz happy again since Justin got killed anahow."

"I have somezing for you." Kurt turned just slightly, picking up a small leather bound book. It was a Bible. "I zink you may find some comfort ‘ere. It is not always so easy to read and understand, but you might begin with the book of Matthew. Pay most attention to the words in red. There I think you will find wisdom."

Kimble took the book, frowning a little. It was an old volume and clearly loved. "I cain’t takes this from you. I kin sees you really liked it."

"It is all right. I vant you to have it. I know it all by heart anyvay," Kurt replied with a smile. While a Bible alone wasn’t quite enough for religious education, he thought he might a least be able to give Kimble a little nudge in what he thought was the right direction.

"Okay. Thanks," Kimble said with a smile, only wanting to please. With all he had going on right now, he wasn’t sure how he would have time to read it, but he didn’t want to disappoint so generous a person. "Kin I gits you anythin’ else?"

"No, I am just tired. I need to sleep."

Kimble rose and tucked Kurt in, his hands swift and nimble in spite of his fatigue and grief. Kurt was asleep by the time Kimble had settled him in. Kimble left him in peace and finally made his way out into the hallway and to the Coke machine. He rapped on the buttons in a perfect imitation of Remy’s grace and listened to the can drop, still fascinated by this lovely red machine. He popped the can and drank quickly, belching softly and rubbing his belly. He heard a soft laugh and turned to see Holly lying on a cot and smiling at him.

He smiled back at her, glad she didn’t appear upset that he had troubled her before. He hadn’t seen her since, but that was only because he’d been ordered to stay away. "Hey, Holly. Ya feelin’ all right?"

"I’m not too bad. I only just started with it this morning."

"If ya needs anathin’, ya jus’ give me a holler. I cain’t git sick sos I’m here helpin’ evrabody I can," he said, coming closer and laying a hand on her head. Yes, he could ‘feel’ that she really wasn’t that sick...not yet. She was still so pretty in spite of her illness, but he was strong enough now not to push himself on her. Remy’s taking him out had gone a long way towards smoothing him out. He was only concerned now for her health.

"Kimble?"

He jerked away from the girl at the sound of Henry’s voice. A surge of paranoia chased his smile away. He thought for sure he was going to be yelled at for being next to Holly again, but Beast only stood passively in the doorway, his face tired and drawn. Kimble saw the sickness there and cried out softly, "Oh, no. Not yous too!"

"Yes, I’m afraid so. Kimble, I have need of you."

"Whatcha wants?" Kimble asked, responding immediately to let Beast know he would do anything the doctor asked.

Beast took Kimble’s arm and led him into his small office. He sat Kimble down at his desk, in front of his computer. "You remember everything you’ve been shown?"

"Yeah, I kin learns real fast an’ I ‘member it good."

"Good. I’m going to show you how to access all of my medical files. I’m sick, Kimble, and I don’t know how long I can keep going. I will try my best, but I want someone active who can use these files to help the others. I could show Wolverine, but he sometimes struggles with technology. I know if I show you, you’ll remember."

"Yes," Kimble said softly, shushed by the seriousness of Henry’s voice.

"How fast can you read?"

"Real fast...computer fast, I guess."

"Good. I want you to scan these anatomy files and the lists of medications I’ve been using so far. Can you do that?"

"Shure."

Kimble took over the keyboard and Henry watched in fascination as he grew quite still except for the fingers that tapped away at the arrow keys, moving the data quickly around as he read. It took Kimble little more than an hour to scan the files Henry had wanted him to have. Henry quizzed him on it and was satisfied that Kimble did in fact remember. This wasn’t his best option, but it seemed like the only one he had right now. He could see Kimble’s self esteem was boosted by his show of trust. Kimble only wanted to help and being useful was good for him. Henry would do well to remember this. He could keep Kimble out of trouble this way, assuming they all survived, that is.

To read more click here: http://www.fanfiction.net/s/2599716/1/Consequences

 

[squeekness]

(Four)

Fallen left Henry’s bedroom and made her way back out to the infirmary. She felt much better after having slept and she was now looking to see where Kimble had gone. She saw him with Beast in his office at the computer and relaxed. Satisfied he was in good hands, she went back to work taking care of the sick. She brought a basin of water to Valentin’s bed. Like Bruce, he had fallen down hard and was barely hanging on. He was breathing in shallow, ragged gasps. Fallen looked into his eyes and was grateful she had come here first. Valentin, First general of the Clan and it’s fiercest warrior, was dying.

"Valentin?" she whispered softly.

He turned to look at her. His eyes were bruised and bloodshot as Bruce’s had been and he was pale and drawn. Still he had a small playful smile for her. "My wife..."

Fallen returned his smile, her hatred of this man long gone. "Yes?"

"It’s good...to see...you again," he rasped weakly, taking breaths in between his words.

Fallen moistened the rag in the basin of warm water and began to wash his face. "Henry says you’re going to be fine."

"Liar..." he wheezed with a short coughing laugh. "I know I will be gone soon. My only shame is that it’s not a warrior’s death I shall have."

"It matters not. You will be buried with your sword. I’ll see to it."

"Fair enough." He reached out and caught her wrist. "You know...I have....always loved you."

In your fashion, I suppose that would be accurate, Fallen thought to herself. "Yes. I love you, too."

Valentin laughed again, a little more hearty with a deeper cough. "Liar."

"I....I respected you."

"I’ll take it, my pretty."

Fallen leaned down and kissed his lips, gentle with him there for the first time. She grasped his hand tightly and began to recite the Viking Death chant again. Valentin knew it well, he had been the one who taught it to her. They spoke the words together and then Valentin lay his head back to sleep. He slept raggedly for another hour before finally passing away.

Fallen stayed beside him the whole time, not wanting him to pass on alone. Unlike Kimble, she didn’t cry at his death but closed his eyes and covered him up, saying another soft prayer before calling to Henry.

Henry came, disappointed to have another body in his morgue. He prayed it would be the last.

-----------------------------------------
　
Kimble slowly walked out to the flower field carrying his shovel and breathing in the lovely night air. It seemed like ages since he’d been outside. The night was crisp and clear, a full moon shining down so brightly he had no trouble making his way along. Still, Kimble felt torn in two. He was happy to be allowed outside, but he was here only because Logan wanted him to help with burying the dead.

Logan walked in front of him, his head down as they towed a makeshift sled that held the bodies of the two Clansmen and one of the maids from the house. They were wrapped in fresh linen after Fallen had washed them clean. They would be buried in the field with the Morlocks.

Logan walked out into the field until he was satisfied and stopped, laying the sled down easy and taking a moment to catch his breath. He’d kept as silent as always, but he was hurting as deeply as anyone else. Almost everyone at the house was sick and he was helpless to stop it. He felt the same frustration as Joseph, they were under attack, but this was one enemy he couldn’t defend against.

"You start there, I’ll start here," Logan growled, wanting only to get this over with.

Kimble nodded and started to dig. He concentrated, using his power to help him. He didn’t have the feet to use this tool properly, but was able to get the job done. He dug his hole and then eased Bruce’s body down into it. He couldn’t help himself but pull the sheet back and look once more on the face of his old friend. It’s true they knew each other long ago and in another lifetime, but Kimble respected all life and mourned the loss of any of it. He brushed some dirt from Bruce’s cheek and ran his hands over his face, laying his head back gently. As he withdrew his hands, he slid the leather thong from Bruce’s hair and kept it for himself. He made a small spike and used it as a knife to cut a lock of Bruce’s rusty blonde hair, tying the leather thong around it.

He glanced up at Logan who had paused to watch him, but said nothing. He didn’t believe Wolverine was capable of understanding his depth of emotion and so didn’t bother to explain himself. He covered Bruce back up with the sheet and flew lightly up out of the hole. He then used his power again to push the dirt he’d removed back in. It was easier to put the dirt back in than it was to take it out.

He gave Wolverine a hand in carrying Valentin into his grave. They were careful to place his huge broadsword neatly along his body as promised.

They both looked up as Fallen dropped down from the sky next to them. She had been left in charge back at the Med lab, but she had to come out for this. She didn’t say anything, only stood by quietly as Kimble used his power once more to finish filling the grave. She gave Kimble a squeeze and then slowly walked back the way she’d come, her head down and low.

"This sucks," Kimble complained softly, not really whining.

"It sure does," Logan agreed, keeping his voice gentle. "It won’t go unpunished."

Kimble looked up at him and met his eyes, sensing Wolverine’s pain for the first time. Suddenly this man didn’t seem so far apart from him as he had been only a minute ago. "I’ll helps ya if I can," he whispered, hoping Logan would see his sincerity.

"I know ya will." Wolverine paused then moved away. "We got one more."

Kimble nodded and they buried the last one together, laying a large bunch of wild flowers down over the breast of the maid. She had been the one who came out here every morning and collected them for the vases of the house. Of all the possible places, this was the one she would have wanted most to be buried in. The two men worked in silence then made their way back to the house. Kimble took a quick shower and returned to work in the med bay only to learn that two more of the household staff had died.

To read more click here: http://www.fanfiction.net/s/2599716/1/Consequences

 

[squeekness]

(Five)


The next morning’s light brought no good news. Overnight and one by one other infected X-men had fallen into Gambit’s limbo and the Med Bay fell gradually silent. The only exception was the Professor who was hanging on by sheer will. He was too weak to speak, but sent out gentle messages of comfort telepathically to the ones left behind to work in the lab.

The only sound now came from a television set up in Henry’s office. Wolverine was eating a light breakfast of scrambled eggs and coffee while watching the news. He said nothing to Henry, but was feeling a little queasy himself. It was a sure sign his healing factor was in hyperdrive, fighting this thing off. He was hoping a little protein would settle his belly and he would escape this bug. Watching the others suffering had done little for his spirits.

The news from New York City was not good. It seems the X-men were not the only ones affected by this mysterious outbreak. A large number of people in Manhattan had also become sick and died. Raul and Vanessa were mentioned in a list of fatalities. Logan remembered Vanessa well. He’d been with her only once, but she was a trip and a half, full of fun and life, something he had always found attractive in people. Now she was gone. What a stupid waste.

The CDC was aware that this was a manufactured virus, but no one had yet claimed responsibility. They were floundering, unsure of what to do. They were trying to be hush hush about the fact this virus had been manufactured, but the rumors were already starting to spread. The CDC had more holes in it than a sieve.

Logan put his head down and cursed. Remy had unwittingly spread this sickness over a wide area. Damn Kimble and his stupid lack of control! If he hadn’t been such a baby about not getting laid, Remy wouldn’t have taken him out against orders. Who knew how far this thing would spread?

Henry came to his office door and leaned on the door frame. He was tired and weak, still on his feet even though he’d started with the vomiting just an hour or so ago. He hadn’t eaten much and so had very little to offer the porcelain. He rubbed his aching belly and asked, "Not good, is it? The news, I mean."

"Not really. What are we gonna do, blue? I know we had an agreement with the folks workin’ in this house that if needs be, they get buried out in the field. But this....we hafta tell someone."

"The CDC is already working on it as fast as we are. Truthfully, I’m not sure I could have anything to offer them. Just do me a favor, Logan. I don’t want to Kimble to know about this. About just how bad it is. He’ll blame himself."

"What does Kimble have ta do with this?"

"Jael made Gambit sick. Gambit took Kimble out. Kimble will believe it’s his fault the people at the Club are dead. Kimble had has enough trouble trying to find his feet around here, he doesn’t need this. Not now."

Logan sighed, remembering the look of contentment on Kimble’s face when he and Remy had returned from their little adventure. Kimble had really needed the trip out, Remy had as well. "And Gambit?"

Henry sighed. "Hopefully, he’ll be strong enough to know where the blame should be placed."

"If he survives," Logan said, soft and low.

"Well, thanks for that show of faith," Beast complained good naturedly, rubbing his aching belly.

They both startled when the buzzer for the upstairs door was rung. Henry had reactivated it, knowing there was no one left upstairs to answer the door. He looked at Logan suspiciously. Even though Henry had reset the downstairs buzzer, the front gates of the Mansion had been locked. No one should have been able to come up to the house.

Henry clicked the intercom. "Yes?"

"Special delivery for a Mr. LeBeau."

"He’s indisposed."

"Sick, is he?"

Logan jumped to his feet and went off, running and Henry clicked the com button. "Someone’s on the way up."

The voice on the other end just laughed and clicked off.

Logan flew up through the house at top speed, cursing the slowness of the elevator and his inability to phase or fly. By the time he got to the front door, their anonymous visitor was gone. A quick scan of the area showed whoever had been there did not come in by car or truck. They must have flown in telekinetically or teleported. Teleportation was more likely since the house security alarms hadn’t gone off right away.

A large package labeled "Medical Supplies" lay waiting on the welcome mat. Logan crouched down and sniffed at it. There were the smells of many people, but no explosives, it wasn’t ticking. He popped a claw and carefully opened up the box, sometimes having built in package openers was a plus. It contained carefully packaged vials of medicine and a note from Jael.


Hey, my precious little Morlock tunnel rat, did you enjoy my little surprise? I know I did. Perhaps now you’ll learn not to go looking for that which doesn’t want to be found. I’ve taken pity on you and decided to send you this little care package. You’ll find here the cure for whatever might be ailing you and your friends. A pity about the norms, though. They won’t make it. I never could abide by them and I won’t start now. Oh, by the way. The bug I gave you was only infectious for the first three days you were walking around, no more people will die. That can easily be changed. Don’t f--k with me again.

Jael


"You sick bast-rd!" Logan snapped and grabbed the box. He brought it down to Henry and the big blue doctor disappeared into the lab with it.

Henry pawed through the box, uncertain. He should probably check this, but he was concerned about time. Gambit’s condition was critical. Henry didn’t know how much longer he would last. Professor, what should I do? he sent out as a silent message to his mentor. They had a psychic bond forged long ago. Henry was one of his first students.

You are a good doctor, Henry. We all have faith in your good judgement.
I should check this.

Then check it my friend. I know you’ll do us proud.

Thanks for the ego boost, Charles. I really needed that right now.

Yes, I know, Charles replied with a laugh. Now do what you do best. Heal us.

"Whatcha gonna do, Blue?" Logan asked. Henry had been staring off into space.

"I’m going to look this over. Jael infected us, it seems too good to be true that he would cure us as well, not for free."

Logan nodded. "Then I’ll leave you to it."

Beast took the box filled with vials and headed off to the Lab. He was exhausted and worried about time, he just hoped he would have the ability to look this over thoroughly before he dropped.

Henry dumped himself into a chair and prepared one of Jael’s vials for spectral analysis to determine its contents. His hands were shaking badly now and his head fuzzy with fever. Unwilling to quit but needing assistance, he used the intercom to ask Kimble to come and help him. The Siskan responded immediately and Henry was soon grateful that Kimble learned his way around a Lab as fast as he could learn to drive a standard shift. As quickly as he had scanned Henry’s medical files, so now he was excelling at his crash course on lab equipment. He would never be as proficient as Henry in so short a time, but he was good enough to assist. Kimble was swift and sure as he carried out Beast’s every order.

Henry’s caution paid off. It didn’t take him long to discover that what Jael had sent them was just another trap. The serum, while indeed based on the actual virus, was itself tainted and a certain killer. Henry couldn’t help but have the last laugh though, his brilliant mind quickly saw that what Jael had unwittingly provided was actually the missing link in his own recent research. Both of their work combined yielded the actual cure. If Henry ever believed in miracles or gifts from above, that coincidence surely qualified. He set Kimble to the task of using the machines in the Lab to replicate as much of the revised serum as he could and went to tell the others the good news.

Henry emerged from his Lab, barely having the strength to move his feet. Logan saw him and immediately rushed over, an arm out to steady the larger man. "You okay, Blue?"

"Yes, yes. Just tired. I think I might have the cure we’re looking for. Not the one Jael provided for us, but one that will hopefully work."

"What?" Logan asked in confusion. He had no idea what Beast was mumbling about.

Henry smiled, knowing this. He explained what he had discovered and that Kimble was busy helping him produce the serum they needed. In his hand, Henry held the first vial for use.

Wolverine was happy to see it. "Whatever ya say, Henry. Just tell me whatcha want me to do."

"Break out the syringes, my friend."

To read more click here: http://www.fanfiction.net/s/2599716/1/Consequences
　

 

[squeekness]

(Six)

Four hours later, Henry stood patiently at Remy’s bedside, watching with soaring spirits as the resident thief began to gradually wake. Beast had been pleasantly surprised by just how well his cure had worked, the strongest recipients had recovered in less than an hour, the worst ones taking somewhat longer like Remy. Henry had been quick to fax off all the paperwork on the virus and the cure to the CDC, shipping off what little revised serum he had left. He had the components documented on computer, at least he could duplicate it any time he needed it.

Henry was disappointed Gambit was taking so long to recover, but after all, he had been the one who carried it the longest. Although he was the first to be medicated, he was the last to wake, so ill had he become. A moment later, Gambit groaned softly and his eyes fluttered open without seeing. "Who’s dere? Dat you, Kim?"

Interesting that Kimble should be the first one he asked for and not Rogue. Henry mused to himself. Is it because the pilot spent so much time at his side or something else?

"Sorry to disappoint you, my Cajun friend. Your good friend is doing the laundry, no doubt curled up asleep on top of the dryers again."

Gambit chuckled softly and blinked as he became more aware. "Okay, what I miss dis time? Another darin’ rescue by funny lookin’ women?"

Henry laughed. The last time Gambit had come this close to death by illness they had been rescued by Fallen’s people from the Dognan pens. "No such luck. This one you get to thank Jael for."

"Eh?"

"Not only did he give us this nasty little bug, he gave us the cure by accident."

"I’ll be sure to t’ank ‘im."

"Later, when you are better. You look a little thin, my friend. Not all of this is from Jael’s sickness. You’ve come down at least a good twenty pounds since we’ve come home. You were scrawny enough as it was. You’ve got to take better care of yourself."

"Yes, Dad. Did we lose anybody?" Remy asked, keeping his voice low.

"Unfortunately, yes. Two of the Clansmen and some of the household staff. It seems this virus was unmerciful to our non mutant compatriots."

There was something in Henry’s voice that made Gambit ask, "Anyone else?"

"We’ll talk about this later when you’re better rested."

Remy sat up and snatched at his arm, his eyes hard. "Non. You be tellin’ Gambit now."

Henry was quiet. He really hadn’t wanted Remy to get worked up, but he could already see the wheels turning in Remy’s mind. He was thinking back quickly to where he had gone the past few days.

"De people at de Club, right?"

"Some of them, yes."

"Vanessa? Raul?"

Henry lowered his eyes.

Gambit’s whole body shuddered and he jerked back away from the doctor as if he had been struck. Vanessa had been in his arms laughing gaily, her beautiful blonde hair cascading down her shoulders as she had shivered and enjoyed his hands on her. How she had shaken with joy and rapture at his touch. This was his punishment. A punishment for daring to love Vanessa in that moment. For loving Kimble enough to share him with the world. A punishment for every crime he had ever committed. Remy’s stomach clenched so tight he thought his guts were going to explode and he gasped sharply, going whiter than the sheets around him.

"Easy, Remy. Just take a deep breath."

Gambit’s mind was reeling. Once more he had been used to kill. How many times was this going to keep happening to him? " ‘Ow many dead?" His voice was little more than a harsh whisper.

"Hard to say."

" ‘Ow many!" he shouted next, turning most of the heads in the room.

"It wasn’t your fault. How could you possibly have known?" Henry soothed, trying to make Gambit see reason.

"Jus answer de f--kin’ question, homme!"

"Twenty, thirty. The news has been a little vague. They don’t want to start a panic."

Remy wilted and covered his face with his hands, trembling. He was trying really hard not to cry, but he didn’t think he would succeed. Henry sat on the bed and tried his best to soothe him. "Don’t take this personally, my friend. This wasn’t you. This was all Jael. Make sure you put this blame where it belongs. It isn’t yours."

"Gambit so sick of bein’ used like dis," Remy said, wiping his face on his hands, hiding the tears that had leaked out. "De nex’ time Gambit be doin’ a killin’, it gonna be Jael goin’ down."

"You won’t be walkin’ in alone," Logan growled. He had come over to investigate Gambit’s racket. "That’s a promise."

"Hey, guys," Cyclops said nervously, coming closer. He was pale and drawn from being ill, but he still carried his usual authority. "We’re not like Jael. The X-men don’t kill. Not like that. If we do, we’re no better than he is."

"What you know about it, neh? Nobody ever scews wit you like dey do to us!" Remy snapped, giving vent to some of his Outer Circle frustration.

"Maybe that’s because I know when to stay out of trouble," Scott replied arrogantly. He had never completely approved of Remy’s reinstatement and it was clear he thought this kind of talk was the sort of thing only grungy Outer Circle members would consider appropriate.

"F--k you!" Remy snarled, rising. He squirmed as Henry pushed him back down.

"Easy, fellas," Logan said, shoving Scott back. "Let’s give the Cajun some breathin’ room. He just woke up."

"What are you going to do? Just start assassinating people you don’t like? C’mon, now!" Cyclops complained as he was pushed away. "We’re X-men!"

"This ain’t the time," Wolverine warned his softer, more perfect teammate. He knew Scott didn’t really have a clue just how much he’d been protected from the dirty side of their work. He didn’t realize just how much intelligence gathering and sneaking around went on around here. The Professor saw to it that it stayed that way. That was the way of things. It was better if they all weren’t in the know. "Go grab a soda an’ just back off!"

"This isn’t over," Scott promised, shrugging Logan off of him and stalking off, keeping his head down. He was furious.

Meanwhile, Rogue had come close now that Gambit had awakened, drawn by his tears. She saw his anger and distress. She came to his bedside and reached out to him. She had figured all of this out for herself. She knew where the blame really lay. If Remy hadn’t taken Kimble out, the outsiders would not have died. If she could make him see that, he would feel better. "Remy, Sugah? Don’ be takin’ this so bad. You were just tryin’ ta take care of Kimble. He --"

"Jus’ leave ‘im outta dis! Go away!" Remy snarled in frustration. He shrank away from her touch like she would burn him.

"Leave me outta what?" Kimble asked softly, his eyes full of pain.

He had just come into the Med lab, his arms full of fresh laundry and blankets, still drowsy from the nap he’d just taken. It was true what Henry had said about the dryers. His hair was decorated with some small tufts of lint and he smelled pleasantly of fabric softener.

"A bunch of people from the club Remy took you to are dead. They all got sick just like we did. A lot of ‘em died," Rogue answered, a touch of accusation in her voice. She had directed her frustration towards Kimble. She believed that if Kimble hadn’t been such a baby, Remy would never have taken him out and he wouldn’t be all messed up right now. "He just found out. He didn’t take it well."

Kimble whimpered and dropped the basket of fresh sheets and johnnys at his feet. Henry had done his best to keep the news away from Kimble and had been successful until now. Kimble’s hands went to his throat and he started to shake, thinking of all the beautiful people he had seen. Vanessa, Raul....

"Raul...?" he whispered softly.

"He’s gone," Logan growled, his gruffness showing he shared some of Rogue’s point of view on things.

Rogue got what she wanted, Kimble sobbed softly as a tear rolled down his cheek. This was all his fault. Remy may have been the carrier for this deadly little virus, but he was just as guilty. Gambit had taken him out because he felt sorry for him. "Nnoo..."

"Easy, Kim. Gambit gonna take care of it," Remy promised in his accented Siskan. He couldn’t stop another tear that leaked out of one eye. He was suffering and wanted their words to be private. He didn’t want the others to argue anymore. "I’m gonna get Jael. Gonna rip dat boy a new one."

"No more killin’, Remy. It ain’t no good fer you," Kimble replied in kind. His eyes were woeful and sad as he continued to cry himself. "I hates ta see yer pain."

"‘E made me kill ‘Nessa, Kim. What am I suppose’ ta do?" Gambit said with a small sob.

Kimble didn’t hesitate, he moved swiftly towards the bed, almost tripping over the basket at his feet. He had to do something, anything to stop Gambit’s suffering.

Logan stood in his way. "I don’t think so."

To read more click here: http://www.fanfiction.net/s/2599716/1/Consequences

 

[squeekness]

Let him go, the Professor spoke from his nearby bed, using telepathy. He was well enough to speak out loud, but knowing what Remy needed, wanted to give Gambit his privacy. He felt Remy’ssuffering and knew Kimble would make him feel better. Remy needs him.

Logan begrudgingly stepped aside and let Kimble pass.

Kimble slid around the big blue doctor to the side of his friend. Henry didn’t argue, but gave up his spot on the bed for Kimble and retreated, knowing that Kimble would be the most likely one to help Remy right now.

Kimble wanted to throw his arms around his friend and pull him right up close, but his short stay here had shown him that such open displays of physical affection between men only led to derision and uncomfortable vibrations. It would only distress Remy further. So instead he minimized the damage and took one of Remy’s hands, squeezing it tightly and closed his eyes, thinking of chocolate, Coke and dancing. He thought of how good was the sound of Remy’s laughter and how he really needed to hear it right now. This was the second time he had consciously tried to use his power this way. He had become aware that it was possible for him to access it at will when he had helped to ease Bruce’s passing. Now he was trying to use it to take Remy’s pain.

Gambit shuddered and moaned as he felt all of Kimble’s love tumble into him, making him warm and washing away the sharpness of his grief. It was as if strong and powerful motherly arms had wrapped themselves around him and given him the comfort he so desperately needed. He relaxed and looked up at the pilot who loved him with eyes swollen and red rimmed from crying. "Ey, Kim. I see you," he rasped weakly, still in Siskan.

"I knows yer hurtin’, but this one we’re gonna share. You wouldn’t’ve gone out if it weren’t fer me," Kimble whispered softly. He lost some of his reserve and stroked one of his hands over Remy’s head, something that had always calmed Seth quickly when he was afraid.

Gambit took his hand, stopping him. He was aware of their audience and although he was caring less and less about Kimble’s public displays of affection, Rogue was still close by. "Non, I was gonna go anyways. I needed to go as much as you."

"Don’ matter. You took me anaways. This ain’t yers alone," Kimble insisted, sending out another strong vibration of love and kinship. He was going to have his way in this matter and there would be no argument.

"If you insist, little brother," Remy said with a soft laugh. "Ain’t no
arguin’ wit’ you, eh?"


"You gots to rest. You gonna be okay now?"

Gambit smiled sadly and nodded. He felt better, but some of the guilt was still there. It would never be completely gone, but that was never Kimble’s intention nor within his power. Kimble had merely taken his share, easing the burden of his friend. Gambit pulled the blankets up over his shoulder and lay down, tired still.

Kimble rose, fussing over his blankets a little more. "I loves you," he said softly, taking full advantage of their Siskan conversation.

"Gambit knows," Remy replied, closing his eyes and falling back asleep almost immediately.

Kimble withdrew, moving past Wolverine and pulling the curtains tight. He saw everybody looking at him and the chunk of Remy’s guilt he had taken seemed bright like the accusation of murder it was. It was there for all to see, his shame, his burden.

"Kimble, please," Henry said, grabbing for him.

"Why didn’tcha tell me, Henry, huh? Worried what yer psycho little killer wuz gonna do?" Kimble hissed, keeping his voice down so Remy wouldn’t hear.

"No. I was concerned that you’d react just like this. I don’t know what you said to Remy, only that you made him feel better. I’m glad for it. I sincerely hope you told him not to blame himself. This is not his fault, nor is it yours. There is far too much guilt taking around here for forces not within our control. It has to stop somewhere."

"Oh, I know jus’ who’s fault this is," Kimble said, his eyes burning with anger and shame. It was his fault, same as always, no matter what he had told Gambit. "It’s in alla yer hearts, yer shines," he finished, looking at Rogue in particular.

He yanked his arm away from Henry and walked out, keeping his head down. He burst out into the hallway and started to run as the tears poured from his eyes. He ran and ran, using the long length of the tram way to burn off most of his anguish. He went to his room and crawled into his own bed, so empty these past few days since he’d been working down in the lab. He buried himself in the blankets, bawling. Raul...

Kimble, please. Let’s jus’ end this. All we do is cause hurtin’ an sufferin’. How many more gots ta die b’fore ya do what’s right? Zander’s ghost pleaded from deep inside of him.

Kimble sobbed loudly. She was the last one he wanted to hear from. She and Zander had been quiet since Remy had taken him out. How foolish of him to think they would be gone for good.

"I didn’ hurts no one!" Kimble said in his own defense. "I never　do nuthin’ on purpose, it just keeps hap’nin’!"

We hurts people jus’ from bein’ around ‘em. It ain’t safe fer us ta stay alive.

Don’ listen ta her, Zander growled. She’s jus’ tryin’ ta scares ya. We didn’ do nuthin’ wrong kid. Sometimes sh-t just happens, that’s all.

"Stop playin’ yer games, Zander. I’m in enough pain without ya screwin' with my head. Jus’ go away!" Kimble shivered as he heard the two voices in his head start to viciously argue with one another. He couldn’t take it so he rose quickly and fled to the galley, searching the cupboards until he found a bottle of whiskey. He cracked open the bottle and drank deeply, not caring that he’d dribbled it down his chin in his haste.

"What are you doing?"

He jerked and almost choked in surprise. Fallen had followed him here, concerned for him. "Nuthin’. I jus’ wuz thirsty," he lied lamely, not even really trying t sound honest.

"Sure you were," she said, taking the bottle from him. "That won’t help you."

He could feel the low burn from the alcohol and was glad he’d gotten a decent shot in before she’d caught him. He knew he should say something, but when he moved to speak, she shushed him and put her arms around him, squeezing him tightly and sending a love vibration his way to make him feel better. He lay his head down on her shoulder and relaxed into her embrace, glad for her comfort.

"If you really believe the truths you told Gambit, then don’t do this," she soothed.

"Fallen, why does evraone keep dyin’ round me?" he asked with a choking sob.

"It only looks that way, baby. It isn’t really true," she said, rocking him a little. "You are good and kind and life just sucks sometimes."

He wanted so much to believe, but it was just too hard. He felt the whiskey making him dizzy and sleepy and let her put him back to bed and cover him up. He dropped off with her calm white hands touching him and dreamed of Zander’s ghost crying from the darkness of the Black Room.

To read more click here: http://www.fanfiction.net/s/2599716/1/Consequences

 

[squeekness]

(Seven)

It didn’t take long for the small band of mutants to recover from Jael’s little gift and life seemed to go back to what it was. Maylee returned from her trip none the worse for wear and hovered around Fallen for a few days until she was sure her mother was in fact safe and not falling ill.

Kimble went back to his isolation on the lower level, unable to look the others in the face, his guilt for this new crime too much to bear. He could feel the eyes of the alphas on him and despite reassurances from Henry and the Professor, still felt responsible for the deaths that had occurred.

The voices had come back on him, but he kept that to himself. He didn’t want Fallen or Gambit to worry. Zander insisted that Kimble not blame himself but his new little girl ghost was in full agreement with the weight in Kimble’s heart. She seemed to thrive on his guilt and suffering and harassed him constantly. He was resistant to her pleas of self destruction, not quite ready to go that far. Maybe he could try and make up for this somehow. In the meantime, he would look after Remy and see him back to health.

It took some time for Remy to get back to full strength and Kimble and Henry fussed over him, making sure he was eating and not smoking too much. He spent a few days in the infirmary before being released. Once he was able to really get around, Remy started leaving the house off on his own again. He wouldn’t tell anyone where he was going, but Kimble knew he was out trying to find Jael once more. As Kimble well knew, Remy kept his promises.

Not long after the X-men began to recover, Kimble had overheard another vicious argument between Logan and Cyclops over the pros and cons of assassination. It was clear Scott considered himself to be of a higher rank than Wolverine and demanded that no action be taken against Jael, not in the form of murder anyway. Scott was something of a boy scout in his views on morality, he wanted to think the X-men were above the grisly tactics the other groups seemed to insist on using. He wanted to keep the X-men clean.

Wolverine wouldn’t back down. How Jael was dealt with was Outer Circle business as far as he was concerned and wasn’t about to let a straight arrow like Scott change his mind. Logan was on the prowl, hunting Jael down just as Remy was. If Jael had an unfortunate accident, well, gee, that was just too bad. They were keeping a much lower profile in their search, not wanting to trigger another fatal response like the last time. So far there had been no sign of Jael or any of his henchmen anywhere.

Today at least, Gambit was close by. He and Kimble were just outside the ramp of the Lucky Dragon, drinking sodas and fooling around. Kimble was roller blading and showing off. The hanger was large and flat, the perfect place to skate. Remy watched as Kimble skated faster and faster, building up speed. Kimble grunted and vaulted, doing an almost perfect back flip. He bobbled the landing, but managed not to fall on his ass. He whooped and hollered, clapping his hands, proud of himself.

“You too cool, man,” Remy said, clapping as well. He was happy Kimble was trying to keep busy and was finding new activities to do. Like Kimble, he was keeping an eye on his friend, a mutual comfort circle. He knew the pilot was still upset over what had happened just as he was. Only thing was, Kimble didn’t have his outlet of trying to do something about it. He wished he could take Kimble with him when he went out roaming, something that was new to him. He had always been solitary when he was working, but lately Kimble had frequently been on his mind. Sometimes he heard Kimble muttering softly to himself when he thought no one was near. Remy wasn’t sure of what to make of it, maybe his friend was just lonely, but it concerned him.

Kimble took a bow and skated over, his face split in a wide cheerful grin. One of the wheels was sticking on his skate and it was bugging him. It hadn’t appreciated the abuse of his wobbly landing. He stopped and tried to yank off the boot, shifting the shape of his furry pawed foot to facilitate the process.

“Sumptin’ wrong?” Remy asked when he saw Kimble wrestling with his skate.

“Stupid frigin’ wheel is stuck again,” the pilot grumbled good naturedly. He was never really angry when Gambit was around, it just wasn’t possible.

Kimble moved next to the work cart that was always outside of the Dragon and lay the boot down on it. He fiddled with the uncooperative wheel and cursed when he couldn’t get the bugger to obey. He reached for some tools.

“ ‘Ey, Kim. ‘M gonna go see a man ‘bout a horse, ey? Be right back,” Remy said, grateful for the interruption. He’d drunk the lion’s share of the soda and was ready to overflow.

“All right,” Kimble laughed as he watched Gambit go up the ramp to use the bathroom, he thought Gambit’s weird expressions for things were funny. He paused in his work when he heard the tram pull up and watched warily as Rogue came out and walked over to him.

Rogue was a powerhouse and she knew it, it carried over in her body posture. She was an athlete like all the others here, her back was tall and straight, confidence oozing from every step. She was a woman with something on her mind and looked to have her way. She came right up to Kimble, her eyes mischievous and overly friendly. As confident as she was, her shine was shimmering with nervous tension as she tried to ask casually, “Hey there, Kimble. Can I talk to ya for a minute?”

“Uh, shure. Whatcha want?”

He couldn’t help but be a little suspicious. The other alphas didn’t come up to him like this, not even after he had helped out so much in the lab. Rogue made him especially nervous because he couldn’t sort out just what he felt about her. She had come to see him today almost naked, dressed only in a string bikini with a towel draped over one shoulder. She had dressed this way on the pretense of going for a dip in the hot tub in the gym, but had made her way down here when she thought no one would notice. The body stocking and gloves were gone and he could see her gorgeous, luscious white skin. She was very pretty to him and appealing, but she had hurt Remy so very much. He couldn’t help but distrust her a little.

“Ah wanted ta thank ya for helpin’ out so much before. It meant a lot to me.”

“Yer welcome,” Kimble stammered, still unsure. She sounded sincere enough, but he didn’t like her shine. “Anaone woulda done it.”

“Oh, Ah don’t know about that. You’re special -- thoughtful and kind. Not everyone is like that in this world.” Rogue came up close, boldly invading his personal space and warming the air around him with her bare skin. “It got me ta thinkin’... You remember when Ah was sick an’ you were touchin’ me? Henry said that nuthin’ happened, Ah didn’t absorb your memories or hurt you. He said he thought maybe it was because Ah was so sick, but Ah’m not so sure.”

“And?” Kimble asked, stepping back a pace. He now had an idea what she was all about and it made him instantly furious.

“Well...Ah was wonderin’ if you’d let me touch you again, you know? Just ta see?”

Kimble snorted and made a face, showing her his anger. “An’ if ya kin touch me, what then, huh? You allava sudden gonna be my best friend an’ all? Last I knew you wuz thinkin’ I was some kinda ****in’ pervert, that alla them folks is dead cuz a me. F-ck you! Whatever yer lookin’ fer, darlin’, you ain’t gonna find it here!”

Rogue turned a little defensive. “You’ve been makin’ moves on everyone here ‘cept me. Why is that, huh? What is it about me y’all don’t like?” she asked with a pout, angry, but her body language saying so much more.

Kimble could see the hurt, the jealousy and the repressed sense of being constantly rejected. She had missed out on so much and couldn’t help but gravitate towards anyone who could provide what she had been lacking. She wasn’t just some floozie flinging her body about, her desire and curiosity were real, she was just like everyone else here – complicated.

Kimble wasn’t about to be tempted by her, by his built in desire to please. He could see in her shine what her intentions were, she was interested in him for only one thing, his ability to touch her. It was the same reason she had dumped Remy for Manny. Now she was here, ready to do it all over again. Kimble might not be real, but he did know a thing or two about loyalty. He couldn’t hide his indignation. “I don’t likes ya cuz yer a selfish little b-tch what don’ appreciate what she’s got!” he replied with as much cruelty as he could muster, hoping she would just go away.

That hurt, he saw the blast of pain rip right through her shine. She reacted to his childish taunt with one of her own. “You’re in love with Remy, aren’t you? Ain’t that just the cutest thing?”

She was better at this than Kimble was, she got right under his skin. He turned away from her and slammed his tools down. “Git out!”

“He’s never gonna give you what you want, Sugah. He’s never been with a man and Ah don’t think you’re near pretty enough to turn him. Best give that idea up right quick.”

Kimble growled. He was aggravated that he was forever being judged by this skin. “I ain’t no man. I ain’t no girl, neither. I’m me. I’m Kimble!”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“It means you a--holes keep judgin’ me by what’s on the outside, not what’s on my insides where it really counts. The only one who ever really sees me is Remy an’ all he f-ckin’ thinks about is you. You don’ deserve his love, his carin’. All you ever thinks about is yerself!”

Rogue pouted some more. This was getting uglier than she had intended. She really hadn’t come her to start a fight. “Ah just want to be touched by someone, just like you. Is that so bad? I thought of all the people here you would understand.”

Kimble sighed, understanding that, but was still angry. He grinned impatiently and walked right up to her, holding his chin up high. He couldn’t believe the hypocrisy of these stupid alphas. He was going to give her a taste of her own medicine, the little b-tch. His immaturity caught up with him in spades as he let his anger swamp his reason. He met her eyes and boldly kissed her. Nothing happened, just as he expected. He kissed her deeper, tasting her mouth and letting her feel just a little of his power. She responded eagerly, he felt her come against him, blasting him with her desire.

It was enough to make him gloat a little inside, to take over as he pushed this little game farther than he should have. Their bare skin collided and she shivered, unable to hide the pleasure of it. She clutched at him and he palmed her face with one hand to show her just how much he could actually touch her. The other he slid down between her legs and skillfully worked around her tiny bathing suit. She had been dressed for sex and was ready for him, irritating him with her sense of his predictability.
He laughed maliciously and nibbled at her ear. “You like that, huh? Want some more, baby doll?”

“Please....!” she gasped, all she could manage.

He just grunted at her. “Well, too bad, darlin’! I’d sooner f-ck old man Logan than you!” He shoved her away, making her gasp in surprise and disappointment. “You got yer answers, hope yer happy. I’ll tell ya this fer free, darlin’. You even think of pullin’ this crap on Seth when he comes out, I’ll kick yer f-ckin’ ass! Not a one of yous got a clue what I’m capable of an’ you don’ wanna be findin’ out the hard way!”

“Why are ya bein’ so mean ta me?” she demanded, raising her voice. “I’ve never done anything to you!”

To read more click here: http://www.fanfiction.net/s/2599716/1/Consequences

 

[squeekness]

“Cuz you made Remy cry!” Kimble howled back at her, giving up any pretense of control. “You took his heart an’ f-ckin’ stomped on it like it wuz nuthin’ but a piece of stinkin’ garbage! By god, if he wuz mine, I’d be holdin’ him close ta me each an’ every day! I’d tell him how much I loved him and made sure he knew it evra time I lay my hands on him! I’d make him laugh an’ cook his supper an’ clean up his crap, thankin’ the spirits each time fer givin’ me someone so fine!”

He paced as he continued to rant. “Huh! Look at me! I gots nuthin’! No friends, no Mistress, no Remy, no f-ckin’ life! Now look at you, you gots it all an’ you throw it away like ya jus’ don’ care! Geez, you make me wanna f-ckin’ puke!”

Rogue cried out, seeing his pain and rage, and burst into tears. She was humiliated and horrified by the truth of his words. She ran away quickly and fled to the tram, unable to get away from him fast enough. Kimble watched her go, his own angry tears pouring from his eyes. He had been working so hard to keep his emotions in check and now it had taken all of five minutes for her to rip him open wide.

He pawed uselessly at his face and startled noticeably when he heard Remy come down the ramp. He’d gotten so carried away with Rogue, he had forgotten Gambit was still here. The thief stood there now, halfway down the ramp, the strangest of smiles on his face.

Kimble looked up at him, his eyes pleading. He knew from the smile just how much he had hurt his friend. Gambit had seen and heard everything. “Aw, Remy. Don’ be mad at me. Please, don’t.”

“Mad at you for what? Pawin’ up my girl or you still t’inkin’ you got no life after all I done for you, eh?” Remy asked bitterly, coming down the ramp to stand eye to eye with Kimble.

Kimble dropped his head down, unable to meet Gambit’s heated gaze.

“Is dat true, eh? You t’inkin’ you got no friends, no life?”

“You don’ love me,” Kimble said very quietly.

“Oh, Gambit’s gettin’ it now. If I don’ wanna lay you down den my love ain’t no real love at all?”

“I didn’ say that.” Kimble sniffed and started to cry some more. He was horrified at how quickly this day had gone all to hell. Gambit’s fury was washing over him and making him feel sick.

“Oh yes, you did,” Remy insisted, not letting him off the hook.

“I’m sorry.”

“You should be. You got lots of t’ings. You say Rogue is selfish, but I’m t’inkin’ you an mon chere ain’t so far apart, man. Neither one of you satisfied wit what you got.”

“You don’ know nuthin’ about me!” Kimble cried petulantly, sounding very much like the child he was. The tears running down his face didn’t help his case any.

“Non. Gambit knows everyt’ing ‘bout you. Everyt’ing! You want what you ‘ad wit Sheyman an’ you won’ be satisfied wit nuthin’ less. Well, dat kind of love ain’t easy to find an’ even ‘arder ta keep. You awful short on patience an’ even less on t’inkin’ ‘bout what you sayin’. Fallen say you a little kid an’ dat’s all I see here now standin’ in front of me. ‘Ow dare you say you got no friends, eh? You got Fallen, Seth, ‘Enry an me and still you ain’t satisfied? I oughta slap you upside yo’ ‘ead for bein’ so f-ckin’ greedy!”

“I need more’n that. It ain’t enough,” Kimble replied softly, his eyes still down.

“Ain’t enough for what? To keep you ‘ere? Don’ you even t’ink ‘bout goin’ off campus, little brother. It ain’t safe for you. It ain’t safe for nobody. Look what ‘appen de las’ time, eh? Damn, you don’t learn from nuthin’!”

“Teach me how ta fights,” Kimble demanded, not really understanding just what he was asking.

“Non! Den you be even more a pain in de ass den you are now,” Remy replied dismissively, raising a hand in the air in exasperation. He couldn't believe just where this conversation was going. Kimble was being such a child.

“F-ck you!” Kimble retorted in an angry sob to that, withering under the strain of Gambit’s censure and wrath. He regretted it as soon as it was said, but it was too late.

Remy just grinned that same pained smile. “Now dat wasn’t too nice. Dis gonna get ugly now, ‘tween you an’ me? You ain’t gonna be ‘appy ‘til you push’ everyone away. Den you gonna look up at de sky an’ cry, ‘Look what de worl’ done to me!’, ‘Feel bad fo’ me!’. You doin’ all dis by y’self, little brother. You doin’ a right fine job makin’ y’own pain. Damn, you even better dan me.

“You need ta take some time an’ really t’ink ‘ard ‘bout what you got, Kim. You do got friends, you got a life, and you do ‘ave me, just not de way you want. You leave ‘ere, you gonna find a whole new definition of ‘avin’ nuthin’ an’ bein’ all alone. Dat’s a fact...dat’s a fact. It’s a cold, ‘ard , kick ass worl’ out dere wit no pity an even less justice. Folks out dere dyin’ every day jus’ tryin’ ta get by an’ it ain’t gettin’ no better.

“You stay ‘ere. Stay safe. You smarten’ up an’ learn ta live wit de folks ‘ere. I mean, t’ink about it. You can’t hang ‘ere? ‘Ow you gonna do it out dere, eh? You t’ink about dat some, you t’ink on dat real ‘ard. Comprenez?”

Remy backed up and walked away, leaving Kimble standing there, broken and sad. Kimble fell to his knees and bawled face down into his own hands, but Remy just kept walking. He’d had enough of Kimble’s never ending soap opera for one day. He disappeared down the tramway without looking back.

Kimble continued to cry unabated even after Remy had gone, he was at a total loss, his heart broken. He startled when he felt a spike form in his hand. Please, jus’ end this. It hurts so bad! Zander’s ghost pleaded.
Kimble tossed the spike with a vicious burst of anger, shattering it with his mind. “F-ck you, Zander!”

You both make me sick, yer so weak, Zander replied in his low growl. As if I’d tell you ta spike yerself silly!

“I don’ know what game yer tryin’ ta run, but I’ve had enough! You cain’t break me!”

I ain’t tryin’ to, Zander insisted, his voice a little more gentle. But seein’ as how I gots yer attention anaways, ya knows that Cajun piece of sh-t is all wrong, right?

“Go away!” Kimble whined, sick to death of the voices and Zander’s pathetic, endless persuasions.

Folks out there dyin’, shure. But lots more of ‘em are livin’. Yer stronger than them. He’s just preyin’ on yer weakness an insecurity, keepin’ ya down. You wanna die in here or live, Kim? You ain’t gonna find what you want here an’ you knows it. Sheyman’s work is out there. Yer angel is out there. Maybe even a Master worthy of us. Let’s go!

“I cain’t....”

Only if ya keep sayin’ that to yerself. We go, jus’ a little at a time. Then you’ll see.

“I don’ knows how.”

Yes, ya do, Zander insisted, flashing snippets of Remy sneaking him out, reminding him of just how easy it had been to bypass the bracelet and the rear security door.

Kimble calmed and wiped at his face, understanding. He could do this, oh yes. It wouldn’t be that hard at all. Maybe it was time he stood up on his own two furry paws and stopped depending on others to help him. If he could score a girl or two along the way, even better. The memory of the cleansing bliss of Raul’s love came to him as well. Just the thought of that was enough to get him going.

He got up and went up the ramp to his room, leaving the skates behind. He took out the clothes Gambit had given him and counted the money he had left, about two hundred dollars. Fallen was downstairs, he knew. He crept into her lav and opened one of the glass jars she had. Sure enough, there was another huge wad of bills. He took some, knowing she was stupid with money. She would never miss it if he didn’t take that much at a time.

That settled, he went down the stairs and into the Engine Room, looking for scrap metal. He found some and spent a couple of hours making his own lock picks. It would have been faster if he could have used the shop tools, but he didn’t want Fallen to ask him what he was doing. She had dropped right back into the routine of ignoring him, and for once, that was just fine with him. As far as he was concerned, right now he had no Mistress, no owner at all. How could she be his true Mistress if she left him so alone all the time and never seemed to want him around?

He recalled perfectly how Remy had picked his bracelet and had enough basic knowledge of wiring to understand what Gambit had done to by-pass the security door. He could do this easy. He would wait until tonight and sneak out after Fallen was asleep.

To read more click here: http://www.fanfiction.net/s/2599716/1/Consequences

 

[squeekness]

(Eight)

Later that night, Kimble snuck quietly across the hanger, a full backpack in one hand. He had been studying the hanger cameras and remembered the lessons Remy had inadvertently taught him. The tracking bracelet had been left behind in his room under a pile of rolled up blankets made to look as if he were sleeping. He was ready for his first attempt at escape.

He ran down the launch tunnel for the Blackbirds and to the back door, taking the same exact route Remy had taken him. He found the locking panel to the rear security door and hacked it, by-passing the grid with perfect skill. He learned quickly and didn’t forget, not this pilot. He snuck out the door and took off into the night, running down the access road Remy had used to leave the grounds.

Kimble knew it would be easier and faster to fly, but he wasn’t skilled enough yet. That didn’t mean he wasn’t willing to try just a little. His exhilaration pumping him up, he ran and vaulted off the ground in huge leaps, discovering he was quite decent at long gliding at least. With a little concentration, his leaps grew larger and larger, the ground flying behind him in a blur. He was making good time.

Once the access road ended, joining a paved road, Kimble had to be more cautious, he might be seen. He shifted into his human skin and kept to the dark, not letting anyone who might drive by see him. He covered ground at a fast trot and glided over open spaces when it was safe. He remembered the roads he’d taken in the Jeep and knew the town wasn’t very far. He should be able to make it there and back to the Mansion without running too low on power.

He flew as best he could, leaping and gliding from one dark place to the next until he neared the outskirts of town. He made his way to the park in the center of Salem Center and opened his backpack. In it he had packed the dressy clothes Remy had given him the night he had taken him out. He dressed quickly, not wanting to waste any more valuable time. He left the pack behind in a place he knew he could find again and was free at last.

He walked down the streets of Salem Center, finding the brightest lights quickly. He found the main strip where there were a few restaurants and bars and peered in the windows. He wasn’t sure which establishment to choose, so he just picked the first one on the end. It was a nice place, filled with decent people all drinking and eating small snacks. He made his way nervously to the bar and sat. He had done some research on beverages so he wouldn’t look like a complete idiot and asked for a Rum and Coke, hoping it wouldn’t make him dizzy too quickly. Fortunately, the drink was weak and he didn’t get too drunk from it.

He watched some people dancing by the jukebox, enjoying the music. He didn’t notice anyone coming in alone, but hadn’t counted on scoring big his first trip out. This was a practice run to see if could blend in and prowl without attracting attention he didn’t want. He mostly sat back and watched the people, trying to learn the customs just by watching. He had a couple of drinks and left, feeling optimistic that with enough practice he could do this well enough to hopefully lure in a potential client, someone who would be willing to be intimate with him. It would just take some time.

He didn’t have to wait long, fortune found him first. He walked down the street, ready to go home but still enjoying the night air and this exquisite moment of freedom. He passed by a few alleys and paused when a young woman stepped out of the shadows looking him over. “Hey, you new in town?”

“Yeah. This is my first trip out.”

He was feeling a little buzzed now from the drinks and wasn’t being as careful as he should be. He wasn’t completely stupid, just desperate.

“You want a date?”

Kimble shook his head and laughed. What perfect luck, to find a professional out here so quickly. “Shure, darlin’. You gots somewhere we kin go? I came in walkin’.”
She wiggled her finger at him, drawing him deeper into the alley. It went quite deep and they couldn’t been seen from the street. They negotiated price and Kimble paid her gratefully, not caring that he was probably being overcharged because of his obvious naivete.

He took her out there in the alley, up against the brick wall of the building, finding all this almost laughable. He had never made love like this, out in the open, but it thrilled him just the same. He had remembered everything, even the condoms Remy had given him. She insisted and he used one, not happy with the lack of sensation, but he was in no position to argue. Just having someone desire him, even if it was for money, was enough to restore his sinking spirits and make all the trouble of this worthwhile. He touched her as though she was the most precious virgin, not a drug addicted ****e, and made her feel it. He didn’t have as much of a hold on her as he had the Siskan clients, there was very little love in this woman, but they were both more than satisfied when he was done with her. She allowed him to kiss her tenderly as they parted, he had affected her that much, and he walked away. He was high now, tripping from her heat and shine. His head was blessedly clear of voices like before and he felt alive and beautiful all over.

He walked back to his pack and undressed before flying back to the house. He could probably fly in his clothes, but it seemed easier to travel in his pilot skin, using his wings for added speed. He expected the cavalry to have been called out upon his return, but the hanger was quiet. His venture had been successful and his absence unnoticed. He went back to the ship and showered, hoping to remove all the smells of his trip out. He then managed to get a recharge from a drowsy Fallen who never questioned the peace and serenity in his eyes.

----------------------------

Kimble went out every other night for two weeks before he got caught. He did most of his business with the few prostitutes in town, preferring them to the folks in the bar. An alley or a back doorway served him just as well as any Siskan pleasure room, the time and place meant nothing to him to the rush of getting off so regularly. His only regret was that all the ****es he found were females. He didn’t want to ask them about men because he was afraid they would be turned off. Bi-sexuality was a taboo here, the X-men had shown him that with their lack of understanding and non-acceptance.

He was enjoying himself immensely, but he knew he was going to have to figure something out pretty soon. He wasn’t running out of money so much as the condoms he’d gotten from Remy didn’t last. Not all the girls asked for them so he was able to stretch them out, but he had used his last one and had to find some more somewhere. He didn’t need them of course, but wasn’t about to argue with these women who gave themselves to him so easily. Problem was, he didn’t know where to obtain them. Remy hadn’t told him.

He waited for a night he knew Gambit would be gone and crept up into his room. He went through Remy’s drawers until he found his hidden stash. By god, he must have hit the motherlode, there were at least ten boxes in here! He grinned and boldly stole a whole box, figuring with this many, Remy would never miss one or at least not figure out who had taken them.

Out on the streets, Kimble had been as careful as his experience would allow, but it didn’t keep him from being spotted. Kennedy was cruising around town and saw Kimble walking out of Chester’s with Dixie, a regular at Barry’s. Kennedy recognized Kimble from the hanger, but was confused because of the skin change. He was sure enough it was Kimble to mention it to Remy the next day when they bumped into each other. Remy made him promise not to tell anyone else and Kennedy agreed so long as there was no trouble.

So now Gambit stood at the back door, waiting. He should have known Kimble would do this. Kimble had been distant ever since Remy chewed him out, hiding himself again away during the day, even from him. Gambit had given Kimble some space, but he had never expected Kimble to withdraw as far as he had. They had barely shared two words since Remy had chewed him out over Rogue. At first he thought Kimble was actually thinking about what he’d said, but now he knew better. Kimble had simply taken his frustration elsewhere.

Gambit felt partly responsible, but knew that what he’d said to the pilot was true. One of the reasons he’d backed off and left his friend on his own was that Kimble had to learn to recognize what he had. Remy knew yelling at Kimble again wouldn’t work here, the best thing now would be to just let him go and watch over him as much as possible. Maybe letting him roam a bit was the only way Kimble would get to see the world and what was in it. He was never going to understand what was out there by hanging around in here. He knew Kimble couldn’t go far because he needed to power up too often. Salem Center wasn’t that bad at all, not like New York City and Remy figured Kimble shouldn’t be able to get into too much trouble there.

Another reason Gambit had given Kimble some space was that he needed some time to think. It was weird how Kimble had just breezed into his life and dumped everything upside down. It had become glaringly obvious to Remy that he’d desperately needed this new friend, someone he could laugh and play with. Remy knew so many people but none of them had ever been able to reach so deeply inside of him as Kimble had. These past few days had been empty and cold without the pilot’s laughter to warm him. He’d had to finally admit the truth of the matter to himself, there was a bond between them now, there was no way around it. They needed each other and Remy vowed not to leave his friend alone for so long again. Just the fact that Kimble was sneaking out showed he’d been missed, his Siskan friend was out and trying to fill the void that he’d left with his absence.

It hadn’t taken Gambit long to see how Kimble had bypassed the security panel and he knew that Kimble had picked it up from him. That and more he was sure. Kimble couldn’t have his bracelet on him, the alarm would have gone off. The little bastard must have learned how to pick it. He should have known better than to let Kimble watch him. Who knew what else he picked up just from hanging around? Gambit watched and waited patiently until he heard the pilot sneak back inside.

“Where you been, little brother?” Remy demanded with a grin, knowing he’d caught Kimble cold.

Kimble jumped with a gasp, startled. “Oh, Jeez! Ya nearly gave me a heart attack!”
“Where ya been?” Remy repeated, not letting Kimble off the hook.

“If yer here, then I'm thinkin' ya already knows.”

“Harry’s?”

“Chester’s. ‘S a little more easy.”

The small group of local prostitutes hung out there, Kimble had learned. Sometimes they would have a couple of drinks before slipping out. Some of the girls were drug addicted and really poor and he fed them, falling back into his old familiar role of caregiver. It made him feel wanted and valuable, like he was worth something to someone. Kimble was a good tipper and was now sought after as easy money and a good lay. He could be counted on not to hurt any of them and they had all grown fond of him. It pleased him that they all wanted to be with him, it soothed the aching wound that had been caused by the X-men’s seeming refusal to accept him and also from Remy’s recent absence.

“You bein’ careful?” Gambit asked him, trying to keep his voice level and not spook his friend.

“Yeah.” Kimble paused, meeting Remy’s eyes and willing him not to freak out. “You knows I need this.”

“Je sais. I know,” Remy replied in his best understanding voice. “C’est bien. It’s just dat when dey find out, dey gonna say Gambit show you ‘ow to get out. Gonna be all over ‘is Cajun ass.”

Kimble put his head down, not knowing what to say. At least Gambit wasn’t giving him the “It’s too dangerous for wayward pilots.” speech. It seemed like Remy was more concerned about himself getting in trouble than Kimble. Kimble wasn’t sure what it meant, but he was hopeful that he wasn’t going to get another severe ass chewing. He hadn’t enjoyed the last one very much at all.

“Gambit gonna keep quiet about dis...for now,” Remy said sternly. He grabbed at Kimble’s pack and Kimble let him, wanting only his friend’s co-operation in this. Remy looked over the clothes and the small leather bag Kimble kept his money in. He counted it quickly and moved on. He could see that there was more here than what he’d given him. Remy hoped he’d gotten resupplied from Fallen, he didn’t fancy the idea of Kimble picking pockets. When he saw the empty condom box, his eyes widened in surprise. It was his brand and he knew where Kimble had gotten these, there was no coincidence here, his instincts screamed. He looked up at the dejected pilot who had withered some under the inspection. “You been a bad boy, Kim. Stealin’ from a t’ief.”

To read more click here: http://www.fanfiction.net/s/2599716/1/Consequences

 

[squeekness]

“I’m sorry. I don’ know where else ta git those. The girls won’t take me without ‘em,” Kimble said, hoping honesty would keep him from getting into trouble any deeper.

It seemed to work. “Bien sur. Dey smart girls. You can buy dese at any store, just about. Don’ be stealin’ from me no more, comprenez?”

“I’m sorry.”

“ ‘S all right. Jus’ don’ wanna be caught wit’out if ol’ Roguie be changin’ her mind, neh?” Remy joked, trying to break the tension. He had already decided that helping Kimble was far better than arguing. He could see that Kimble felt bad about stealing from him, there was no defiance in his eyes, only regretful submission. He wouldn’t do it again.

Kimble smiled with relief. If Gambit was joking around then he must not be very mad. “I wouldn’ want that. No, sir!”

“You wearin’ de same ‘ol clothes?”

Kimble shrugged. “ ‘S all I got.”

Remy sighed and shook his head. “Come wit me. Can’t be ‘avin’ you go out like dis. I’ll just bet dose girls be rippin’ you off blind.”

They walked the distance to Remy’s room in silence. It was late at night and no one saw them. Gambit sat Kimble down on his bed and then went through his drawers, pawing through his large stockpile of clothing. Remy had plenty to spare and he gave him some of his spare pants and shirts, explaining to him how to hem the overly long pants.

Kimble nodded meekly, his eyes shining gratefully at his friend, loving him for doing this for him. He’d thought for sure Remy didn’t want him around after he’d yelled at him before, but now saw that hadn’t been true at all. What a fool he had been to hide away. The days had been so lonely, made up for only by the company he kept at night.

Remy saw Kimble’s mind working but didn’t comment. He wasn’t sure if he was doing the right thing, but figured Kimble was just going to sneak out anyway. He may as well do it in style. If he jumped all over Kimble a second time, he would lose the pilot for sure.

Finally, he opened a drawer and contradicted himself by handing Kimble another large box of condoms. “Dis will ‘old you a while?”

“Yeah, thanks.” Kimble’s eyes opened wide when Remy next handed him a large roll of money. “Aw, no. I cain’t take alla yer money like that.”

Remy laughed. “Got plenty more where dat came from, don’t you worry. Gambit’s always got some hangin’ around. Just don’t be stupid wit it.”

Kimble took it numbly, feeling more and more in Remy’s debt. “I cain’t never pays ya back, ya done too much fer me,” he complained softly, keeping his eyes down submissively.

“You’d’ve done de same for me. ‘Sides, you my brother now. We ‘ave to look after each other, you an’ me. We ain’t got nobody else,” Gambit said, rubbing Kimble’s head and making sure he felt the vibration of affection and concern he sent out. He had really missed Kimble these past few days and it showed. He wanted Kimble to see it.
Kimble sniffed, feeling a little overwhelmed. “Thanks.”

“You pay me back by not gettin’ in trouble. I’m gonna be lookin’ out for you. You stay away from Barry’s and Freda’s, understand? Dere’s bad folks dere, dey’ll ‘urt you.”

“Okay.”

“Also, it’s against de law here, what you do wit dese girls for money. De cops come, you bail. You fly off, whatever, but don’ you spike nobody. Ever,” he cautioned sternly. “You kill somebody it’s over for you, comprenez? No one’s gonna ‘elp you ‘ere an’ Gambit can’t bust you outta jail. He a good t’ief, but dat’s askin’ too much, n’est ce pas?”

“Yes,” Kimble said softly, cowed by the seriousness in Remy’s voice. “I don’ wanna hurts nobody anaways.”

“C’est bien. You jus’ remember dat. Now last t’ing.”

“What?” Kimble asked in a trembling voice. Was this where he finally got chewed out for real?

“I know you a little upset after our las’ little talk. You been hidin’ out, keepin’ away. Don’ do dat no more, ‘kay? ‘Ow can Gambit keep track of what’s goin’ on wit you if you don’ talk ta ‘im, neh?”

“I thoughtcha wuz real mad at me. Didn’ wanna be around me no more,” Kimble said, keeping his head down.

“Ne jamais, cher. Gambit ain’t never so mad ‘e don’ wanna see you. I missed you.”

Kimble looked up him. “Ya did?”

“Oui. A lot. Dis place a real drag wit’out you around. I mean dat,” Remy said sincerely.

Kimble smiled and rose to sloppily hug him, unable to hide the hide fact that he’d missed his friend as well. “I missed ya, too.”

Remy laughed as he was squeezed without mercy. He had forgotten how good it was to see Kimble’s face so happy and the sound of his laughter. The hug felt pretty nice, too. It had been a while since he’d had one of these as well. He patted Kimble’s head like a dog and said with affection, “Bien. Now get outta here.”

“Thanks fer evrathin’, I means it.”

He gently pushed the pilot back and crammed the clothes into Kimble’s pack. “Pas de quoi. You’re welcome, little brother. Gambit’s tired now. Gonna get some sleep.”
“See ya tomorrow then? Maybe we kin have some pizza’r sumpthin’.”

“Absolument, cher. Gambit’ll be around.”

Kimble smiled at him and left, feeling blessed and warm to have such a good friend. He made his way back down to the hanger, careful not to be seen by any passers by. He was deliriously happy Gambit wasn’t mad at him.

Toldja things would work out jus’ fine, Zander said, happy as well. He was satisfied with Kimble’s progress and the fact that Remy was going along with it. Soon they would be free of this place.

Kimble didn’t care about that. Gambit wasn’t mad at him. It was his only thought and it filled him with an intense happiness. He held his pack close to his nose as he walked from the tram, the smell of Remy’s aftershave was leaking out from the clothes he’d given him.

Zander just laughed with amusement at his crush. That boy’s gonna be nuthin’ but trouble fer you. Jus’ give it up.

“I ain’t given up nuthin’,” Kimble said, squeezing the pack a little tighter. “He loves me.”

Not the way yer thinkin’.

“Don’ care no more, jus’ so long as he’s around. He loves me more than Fallen does.”

Maybe so. Jus’ so long as ya don’ let it distract ya. We been doin’ good on the outside. I been real proud of ya, son. We don’ need nobody else.

Kimble didn’t answer, he just kept walking with that contented smile on his face. He went up into the ship and into his room, careful to lock the pack away inside his lock box. He wasn’t the least bit tired so he pulled out his drawing pad and doodled absently. He couldn’t have been happier at that moment. Maybe Zander was right and things really would start working out for him. All he needed was a little patience and the little sips of stolen love to keep him going. He could survive here.

To read more click here: http://www.fanfiction.net/s/2599716/1/Consequences

 

[squeekness]

(Nine)

Kimble walked into Chester’s and looked over the bar. He saw Dixie sitting in her usual seat, probably waiting for him. She was one of the regulars here and a prostitute he favored. She seemed to have grown quite fond of him as well -- she didn't always charge him for her services. Just last night she had come in a van and they’d spent a couple of hours there, lying naked around each other and enjoying themselves, happy to have total privacy for once. She had seen his long lovely tattoo and commented on it, saying how pretty it was.

He made his way over to her now and greeted her with a deep and loving kiss, stroking her hair back from her neck. “Hey, Dixie.”

“Buy a girl a drink?”

“Shure.”

They ordered drinks and Dixie took him to a table in the back where it was a little more quiet. They sat down and chatted about nothing for a few minutes when a large shadow fell across Kimble’s shoulders. He looked up into the eyes of one of the biggest men he’d ever seen. He wasn’t so much huge as his presence was very commanding and seemed to draw your attention. He was heavily muscled like he worked out a lot and carried himself with authority. He was dressed in a soft leather shirt and blue jeans. His long blonde hair was loose around his shoulders and his tawny eyes glittered with malice and unquestionable superiority, a trait he shared with his long time enemy, Wolverine.

The infamous Victor Creed, otherwise known as Sabretooth, grinned his cruel, toothy smile, showing Kimble his fangs. “Hey, there, Bunkie. Been lookin’ fer you. ‘Bout time you showed up.”

Kimble squinted as he was blasted from the brightness of Sabretooth’s shine. It was like Wolverine’s only brighter and less painful. There was no hate behind it for him, only some kind of weird expectancy about it as if it had been waiting for him as well. Kimble was about to speak in his confusion when he was suddenly jolted with a surge of electricity that came not from Sabretooth, but from his hunting companion on this trip, Davis.

Kimble squealed and shook from the unexpected power surge. He lost control of his skin and his wings burst from his back, shredding his shirt and popping the buttons explosively from the front as it became too tight. His pants strangled around his crooked cat’s knees and he was ensnared and helpless, trapped as much by his clothing as from the shock that numbed him.

Sabretooth blinked in surprise at Kimble’s rapid change in appearance, but didn’t let it stop him. He grabbed the dazed pilot roughly and slashed off the remains of his shirt and jacket, eyeing the Mark on his chest. “Nice work, Dixie,” he growled with happiness, deep and low. “Davis, pay the lady.”

Davis did as he was told and Dixie took the money, giving Kimble a small wave. She had been just a small part of Jael’s massive network that had been looking for a man bearing the Honor Sword Mark. Now he had come and she was well rewarded. Her bringing Kimble to the back booth was a pre-arranged signal to Sabretooth to come and collect his prize.

Kimble was still out of sorts from the electrical blast and couldn’t move as he was lifted from the bench seat and tossed over Creed’s massive shoulder like a piece of meat. They made their way to the door unobstructed. The rest of the people in the bar only stood by and watched, parting way without a fuss. This was just another stupid mutant gang thing as far as they were concerned and none of them wanted to get involved.

Kimble felt the cool of the night air on his bare skin and knew he was now outside. They hadn’t gone two more steps when his captor suddenly cried out loudly and crumpled to the ground. He had lost his grip on the pilot and they fell as one, landing in a tangled heap of limbs and wings.
Kimble grunted as he landed, cursing from the pain. They were out on the pavement and he’d fallen down hard on his elbows and knees, scraping his skin raw. He rose awkwardly, his crooked pilot legs still tangled in his pants, and looked back at the man who had captured him. Creed was writhing down on his back and grasping at his chest. Blood was bubbling up from several large gaping wounds, he had been shot through with long, jagged clear spikes that looked suspiciously like his own.

“Did I do that?” Kimble asked himself in a stunned whisper.

“No. I did.”

Kimble looked up as a small pack of alphas dropped down from the night sky, seemingly out of nowhere. They were all dressed in black military style uniforms, but were unique from each other. The leader was an older man, in his early forties and greying at the temples. He was the one who had spoken and was obviously a telekinetic. He had lowered the group down from the roof of the building with his power.

His three companions were a mixed bunch. There was a young woman covered in green scales who had the face of lizard with sharp jagged crocodile teeth to match. The other two were men, one well built and strong, the other small and weasely looking. Weasel Boy leered at Kimble with short crooked teeth and whispered, “He don’t look like he was worth the effort, Kyle.”

“Shut up, Leon. Let’s just get the job done.” Kyle, the leader, responded sharply.

He walked up to Kimble and snatched at him just as Sabretooth had done. He gripped Kimble by the waist of his pants and yanked on him, intending to take him away.

Kimble was horrified at the night’s events, all these strangers were coming up to him as if he was their property and just grabbing at him. Yeah, he had wanted a new Master or Mistress but this was getting out of hand! He had no idea why all these people were fighting over him but he didn’t care right now. All he wanted was to get away. He flinched and threw a up shield of hardened air at Kyle to push him off, wishing only to get away without seriously injuring him. He had remembered Remy’s warning about murder.

Kyle laughed impatiently and shattered Kimble’s offering with a mental command. “Oh, you are too precious! Too bad we don’t have time to play!”

“Lemmie go!” Kimble whimpered in terror and slashed at him with his toe claws, reverting to more conventional weapons. It didn’t do him any good. They just scratched against another shield, causing no damage at all. He was hopelessly ensnared by this powerful telekinetic just as easily as he had been by Davis and Sabretooth. He knew he was in serious trouble and was flooded with panic.

Sabretooth groaned and started to rise as Davis joined him from inside. He pulled out a spike with a bloodied hand and let it fall to the pavement with a glass like clink. He looked up at Kyle and growled, showing his reddened teeth. His healing factor was just as quick as Wolverine’s if not faster and now he was severely pissed off, not a good combination. He was a well known psychotic killer and madman, a mutant killing machine without remorse. Adding to the tense scene was the sudden appearance of the rest of Sabretooth’s gang. They melted out of the darkness, guns ready.

“Break formation!” Kyle barked and put a telekinetic shield around his people, protecting them individually as they scattered. He vaulted up into the sky, hauling a squirming and resistant Kimble with him. The ground exploded in sparks and fireworks as a mutant horror light show broke out below them. Leon was firing bright orange plasma bursts at Davis who was now letting lose with bolts of electricity from his fingers strong enough to fry an elephant. All of that energy collided violently and the night was split with the roaring of explosions. The fact that most of Sabretooth’s people were armed with guns only added to the noise. Smoke rose and with it came the smell of cooked meat as Davis went down, scorched but not killed by one of Leon’s blasts.

Kimble screamed in terror from the savage battle and clawed at Kyle’s face, raking his eyes in an attempt to force the man to let him go. Kyle had been concentrating on what was going on below and was quickly running out of attention span. He howled in pain and released Kimble, letting him fall. Kimble caught himself telekinetically before he could hit the dirt and swooped off towards the trees in a hysterical, clumsy glide.

One of Sabretooth’s men took off after him and Leon fired a bolt of plasma to knock him down, wanting Kimble for himself. The man ducked, but Kimble never saw the orange glowing missile coming. He screamed in indescribable agony as he was slammed with a heat so intense he lost all control of his body. Kimble loved heat, yes, but this was a burning lake of lava, a piece of the living sun. His body went first grey, then a bright glowing orange as his inner core heated up well beyond tolerance. He gave a strange twisted cry that was never finished as his pilot’s form disintegrated and he began to melt, falling down to the ground in a pool of smoking, red hot gel.

“NO!!!” Kyle screamed, and let Creed’s man have a taste of what he’d given his Master earlier. The man fell, clutching his chest as he was run through with long jagged spikes. He lay writhing and twitching on the ground, it was a fatal injury but it would take some time for him to die. Kyle landed next to him and viciously kicked him out of the way, venting his rage. He reached down to touch Kimble’s remains, but jerked back with a cry. The gel was too hot to be handled. “F-ck!”

The rest of his gang came up behind him cautiously, sensing his anger. They had dispatched the rest of Sabretooth’s men and Creed himself lost interest in fighting after he saw the prize reduced to a pile of boiling slag.

“Whoa, dude!” the other young man said to Leon. “You melted him! Cam’s gonna kill you!”

“Just shut up, Michael!” Kyle snapped. He reached out with his power and created a shield, using it like a giant spatula to scoop up Kimble’s gel, then balling it up into a container.

“Uhm, boss? This guy is toast,” Michael continued, the team chatterbox. “Why bother?”

“I told you to shut up! Now let’s go!”

The team obeyed his command and formed their earlier positions. Kyle grunted and vaulted up into the sky, raising them behind him with his power. He didn’t have a clue how he was going to fix this, but knew he was going to have to act quickly. They disappeared up into the sky, the only sign of their passing was the orange glowing ball of Kimble’s remains, now growing dimmer as they flew off towards New York City. It soon winked out and they were gone.

To be continued in Shattered.

To read more click here : http://www.fanfiction.net/s/2608701/1/Shattered

 

[squeekness]

(One)

Remy was out cold asleep in his bed when his door burst open and he was blinded by his own bedroom light. He snapped awake and jerked upright, bringing three lit cards to bear without even knowing who his intruder was.

“Yer a jumpy boy there, Cajun,” Logan growled. He cocked his head slightly. Remy’s chest was bare and it still freaked him out a little to see Remy’s scars. It was a reminder of just how resilient his teammate was. Folks just don’t walk away from Sabretooth like that.

“What’s goin’ on?” Gambit wheezed, struggling to get his brain moving.

“Yer boy’s in trouble again. What a surprise.”

Remy groaned and put the sizzling and half burnt cards into an ashtray next to his bed. “What he done now?”

“He’s been sneakin’ out, but I guess you wouldn’t know anything about that.”

Gambit just glared at him.

“He was down at Chester’s. Kennedy saw him get nabbed by Sabretooth and Davis.”

“What dey want wit ‘im?” Remy asked rhetorically. He couldn’t imagine the answer to that.

“Wait, this just gets better. They drag him out and guess who’s waiting?”
Remy still wasn’t quite awake. “No clue.”

“Kyle Franks and his gang.”

“Non. Dat can’t be possible. Dat would mean ---”

“—That our boy’s the one Jael’s been lookin’ for all this time? It kinda looks that way from here.”

Remy just shook his head. “Uh uh. Kimble ain’t nobody,” he protested.
“Well, he must be somebody to them. They had a big nasty fight, coupla folks got killed. Kennedy says Kimble got hit by plasma and was melted.”

“Melted?!” Remy repeated and came fully awake as a wave of fear hit him. “Is ‘e okay?”

“Don’t know. Kyle seemed to think he was salvageable. He scooped up what was left and flew off with it.”

“Jesus....”

Gambit put his head down and covered his eyes. Kimble just couldn’t be dead. No way. Remy couldn’t bear another death on his head, not now.
“The Professor wants everyone down in the War Room, pronto.”

“Bien sur. I’ll be dere. Jus’ give me a minute.”

Logan nodded and left.

Gambit reached for his cigarettes and lit one, trying to control his shaking hands. He was so busted. There was no way they would believe Kimble got out on his own. Gambit was determined not to run this time, he was responsible and he would own up to it. Kimble had needed to get out, the real question was would they understand why.

He sat for a minute, thinking as hard as he could. What would Jael possibly want with Kimble and how did he know about him in the first place? It wasn’t impossible that there were spies in the Xavier camp, it had happened before, but that didn’t explain all this interest in Kimble. When Kyle Franks first flew in, Kimble hadn’t been off the grounds yet. Maybe Jael and Kyle had someone with the Sight or something hinky like that.

Remy couldn’t sit here forever. He got up and dressed quickly, crushing out his cigarette before leaving. He made his way down to the lower level and slunk into the big War Room, his head down and eyes low. He expected to get chewed out, but the Professor only looked at him and said telepathically, You okay?

I’m good, ‘Fessor. Let’s just find ‘im.

Charles turned to the group and brought them all up to date on what had happened. Kennedy was there at the bar and had called the Professor right away, giving him a full report. He went over the quick battle and the fact that Kimble got hit with a plasma burst. The last thing he saw was Kimble — or what was left of him — being carried off. Kennedy was still out in the field now, trying to track Kyle down and where he may have gone.

Fallen shook with fear through the whole story. When the Professor finished, she turned to the crowd. “Plasma is very bad for the hologram components. It’s much too hot for Kimble’s inner core to handle,” she said, her eyes red from crying. “He probably didn’t make it.”

“Kyle musta t’ought sumptin’ was up,” Gambit replied, trying to be optimistic. “ ‘E took off wit Kimble dere.”

“Perhaps because Kimble had been altered in Ristle surge he is now different enough to have survived the plasma blast,” Henry suggested.
“Why was Kimble sneaking off in the first place?” Cyclops complained, accusation in his voice. He focused his impatience in Gambit’s direction.

“I tol’ you guys what Kimble needed. You didn’ listen. I took ‘im once, it wasn’t enough. He found some more on ‘is own,” Remy explained defensively, his tone a little sharp.

“How long has he been sneaking out?” Bobby asked.

Gambit squirmed when all the eyes in the room turned to him. “Don’ know. Coupla, t’ree weeks mebbe. ‘E was ‘idin’ it even from me.”

“But you still knew about it, right?” Rogue challenged. “You knew and said nothing.”

Remy sighed and took out a stick of gum. Logan rolled his eyes in dismay before the thief even began to speak. Always with the stupid gum. Gambit’s in the sh-t now and he knows it.

“Gambit knew ‘e was goin’, oui. When ‘e need sumptin’ it always comes down to me, n’est ce pas? ‘E was gonna go anyways, already been out a few times ‘fore I caught ‘im sneakin’ in. Gambit jus’ made sure ‘e was doin’ it safe, is all.”

“Wasn’t too safe, huh? I mean somebody still came along and took him,” Rogue snapped, not letting it go.

“ ‘Ey! Nobody tol’ me de whole worl’ be lookin’ for ‘im! If I’d known, I never woulda ‘elped ‘im!” Remy barked defensively. His red eyes burned at her and his fingers twitched, itching for a fight.

“Easy, easy, people,” Charles said, raising his hands. “Arguing like this isn’t going to help.”

“Is he some kind of sexual addict? I mean most of us can do without,” Scott continued impatiently when the two combatants had settled down in their respective corners. He just didn’t understand Kimble’s need at all. They shouldn’t have to be dealing with this crap, really.

“Kimble need de love to keep ‘im sane. Dat’s it. ‘E don’ get it, ‘e go crazy, comprenez? De more stressed out ‘e is, de more ‘e need it to smooth out,” Remy answered aggressively, still on the defensive. How many times did he have to explain all this? He glared at Scott, abusing the gum in his mouth.

“What’s Kimble got to be stressed out about? It’s not like he had any responsibilities or anything,” Scott challenged sarcastically.

“Maybe he needed some,” Charles interrupted. “Perhaps he took the recent deaths harder than we thought. He is empathic. They feel things on a whole other level. I thought I had made myself clear about that,” he ended just as impatiently as Remy. It seemed like emotional issues were difficult for this group of serious people to understand.

“What matters now is findin’ the little bugger,” Logan said, not wanting to argue anymore. It was time to get to work.

“Yes, and to do that I will need all of your help. Remy, I want you and Logan to do a search of Kimble’s quarters. Find out what you can. Maybe there’s something there that can help us. Take Fallen with you.”

“Oui, patron.”

“The rest of you I want in the City. Groups of two or three. The thing is, if for some reason you should find Jael, do not confront him. We don’t need a repeat of what happened the last time. This is a fact finding mission and may take some time. We want to free Kimble, but we do this by the numbers and no one will get hurt.”

“What are we looking for?” Cyclops wanted to know.

“Any of the Seekers. I want to know where Cameron Bishop is.”

“Mais, dat’s de easy part,” Remy piped in. “He run de Ricochet. It’s a sex Club in Manhattan. De meilleure qualite’. Si beau, si magnifique, best girls in town, les meilleures putains.” His eyes were gleaming and he had to pause, a bit carried away at the thought of the women there. He made a show of it, all the better to raise the ire of his ex. He shrugged with playful arrogance as he noted with satisfaction that Rogue’s face had flushed and her eyes now stabbed into him with an angry jealousy.

“Just stick with the details, Gumbo,” Logan grumbled, but his eyes were merry.

Satisfied with his game, Gambit continued, “Cameron own de whole buildin’. It’s very exclusive, gotta ‘ave a pass to go more dan de firs’ floor. Dere’s six floors in all, Five an’ Six floor, dem’s fo’ mutant clientele only. Dat’s where ‘e works ‘is people. Dey trainin’ jus’ like us. Penthouse up top a’ dat, nice big slider on the east side. If Kyle an’ Kim come in flyin’, prob’ly go in dat way,” he offered helpfully, smiling mischievously as Rogue’s eyes continued to bore into him. The unspoken question, Just how did you know all this?

Charles paused a moment, biting back a compliment on Gambit’s valuable inside information. This was a mixed group and not Remy on his own. The Inner Circle members of this group didn’t always know the extent of Xavier’s covert activities and he liked to keep it that way. Remy had been most valuable to Charles in much the same way as Kennedy, as someone who kept tabs on who was doing what out there. While Charles hadn’t sent Gambit to specifically spy on Cameron before, it was helpful that the thief had kept up his contacts. It was telling that Gambit had been so free with what he had discovered on his own, it made Charles trust him all the more.

He spoke to the group, “Then I want the place watched. No one goes in until we know for sure Kimble is there. We are dealing with some very serious people. I don’t want anyone hurt that doesn’t need to be.”

To read more click here : http://www.fanfiction.net/s/2608701/1/Shattered

 

[Ipodman]

Nice stuff

 

[squeekness]

Thanks.

 

[squeekness]

Remy stood in Kimble’s room and looked around, trying to remember what it all looked like just a couple of days before. He explored Kimble’s tiny area with his eyes, looking for what could possibly be out of place. It all appeared to be in order.

Logan idly leaned in the doorway. He figured this was Remy’s gig and would let him have first crack at checking the place out. Fallen had come with them, but she left them to speak with Seth in the hopes that maybe his brother had seen something.

Remy ran a hand through his hair, focusing his concentration. Kimble didn’t have a night stand or a dresser, all he had was the bed and the table. He had seen Kimble drawing before, but didn’t see any of his art stuff out and he guessed Kimble must have a hiding place somewhere. Remy crouched down and looked under the bed, smiling when he saw what he’d been seeking. He slid out the long wooden lockbox and sat back on his heels, not sure he wanted to know what was inside. It took him all of two seconds to pick the lock. He opened the box and his eyes went wide. He wasn’t sure what to expect, but it wasn’t this.

The box was filled with junk, organized junk neatly folded. Kimble had been busy, stealing things from all over the house. Remy was no fool. Kimble was stealing pieces of the alphas for himself in his desperate need to belong.

Logan had seen enough to move away from the door and come closer now. He crouched down next to Remy and pulled out one of Jean’s bras. By itself, it was enough to anger him, but blended in with the motley collection of X-men effects in front of him, it meant something else. Kimble had wanted so much to be a part of them, but he hadn’t been good enough. To compensate, he took a small piece of everybody and kept it in a box under his bed. It was horrible, pathetic and sad.

“This kid’s got some trouble,” he whispered softly, and put the piece of Jean back in the box.

Remy’s voice was pained as he replied, “I tol’ y’all what ‘is trouble is. Don’ nobody listen, though. All he want is a place ta be, where he ain’t all alone or treated like dirt.”

“Hey, nobody treated him bad. He brought his own trouble.”

“De faible la chose, he a lost boy, Wolvie. He ain’t no pervert. De rest of you so hung up on your stupid morals, you judge him all wrong.”

“He had his paws on a kid. A fourteen year old kid. I can judge that one easy.”

“Non. Dat’s jus’ Kimble not wantin’ ta be alone.”

“That’s a friggin’ pervert gettin’ his hands on fresh meat. It is what it is.”

“Whatever,” Remy snapped back at him, not wanting to argue.

Remy sniffed and pawed through the box some more. He saw Kurt’s Bible and was a bit angry that Kimble would take something so valuable, but then saw that Kurt had left an inscription inside, the book had been a gift. Kimble hadn’t gotten far. He had started not with The New Testament as Kurt had suggested, but at the beginning of the Bible with the Old. He had read as far as the destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah and stopped, no big surprise there to Remy. As soon as those of an unconventional sexual nature were being punished, Kimble had lost interest. Kurt should have known better, Remy thought, but wouldn’t comment.

Gambit lay the book aside and pawed further through the box. What he saw next took his breath away. He closed his eyes, trying to control his hurt and rage. He’d seen his shirt, the one he’d been so certain Rogue had taken. It was the last nail in the coffin of his hope that she would ever return to him.

“You all right?” Logan softly growled, sensing the change in Remy’s mood.

“Bien sur, oui,” Gambit replied sadly. He looked down at all things the pilot had collected and saw Kimble’s broken heart. “No one’s gonna know about dis,” he ordered.

“I ain’t gonna tell nobody,” Logan said. “What he took ain’t worth gettin’ the others all riled up.”

Gambit reached in and pulled out the drawing pad. He flipped through a few pages and started to quietly laugh as he saw, sketched in black and white, Kimble’s deepest desire for him. He shook his head in a useless denial. What else could he do? The pictures were painstakingly detailed and sexually explicit. No mistaking who Kimble had in mind to please and in what manner. Remy saw his own face and knew the truth of Kimble’s desire. Not one of the pictures had Kimble depicted as a woman, he wanted Remy as a man. Gambit cocked his head and squinted at some of them, trying to visualize what Kimble had in mind. He wasn’t sure all that Kimble had portrayed was even physically possible, but he figured Kimble probably knew better than he did.

Gambit looked up at Logan’s face, but saw only tightly controlled emotion. Logan was concerned about a possible threat to Remy’s person, but at the same time was amused by the idea of Kimble’s crush.

“Dis didn’t ‘appen,” Gambit said lamely.

Logan grinned mischievously and patted his shoulder. “Sure it didn’t.”

“Gambit’s frisky, d’accorde, but dis...?”

“Never know ‘bout you. You did take him dancin’,” Logan teased, playing the game.

Remy put the pad back inside and picked up the journal. He flipped through it and saw that Kimble had filled quite a bit of it with his beautifully crafted script. It was written in Siskan and would take some time to read. He kept it, jamming it into a coat pocket.

“Why would Kyle want him?” Logan repeated, bouncing ideas and questions off the walls.

“Non. ‘Ow did ‘e know ‘e was even ‘ere? Cameron’s got someone wit de Sight. Jael must ‘ave, too. Has to be.”

“I know someone we can see,” Logan tossed out. Gambit’s thoughts had given him an idea, it might be possible to level the playing ground here. “Take them drawin’s. We’re goin’ for a ride.”

“Hey, if we gonna sell dese, I want ‘alf de profits, oui?” Remy said, hiding his discomfort. He really didn’t want anyone else to see them.

“I know someone with the Sight, too, Cajun. But she’s gonna need somethin’ real personal to See him. He put a piece of himself in each one of those. She’ll See it. Maybe she’ll See where he’s at.”

Remy nodded and closed up Kimble’s box before shoving it back under the bed. He looked up as Fallen came to the door. “Seth doesn’t know anything,” she said. “He heard Kimble arguing with himself, but that was a long time ago. It was before Remy took him out and he hasn’t done it since.”

“Prob’ly nuthin’ then,” Logan growled. “Let’s get this show on the road.”

“Where are you going?” Fallen wanted to know.

“Not me. Us. I know someone who can See things sometimes. Maybe she can help us,” Wolverine answered, making his way to the exit. “Yer comin’ too, darlin’,” he barked, not letting her get away. Fallen shrugged and she and Remy followed him out.

To read more click here : http://www.fanfiction.net/s/2608701/1/Shattered

 

[squeekness]

(Two)

Logan stood on the porch with his arms folded across his chest as an armored car pulled up in the driveway and up to the Mansion. He was just on his way out with Gambit and Fallen when the Professor nabbed him for this quick job. The truck had the letters S.H.I.E.L.D. written on the side. This was a prisoner transfer. All Logan had to do was see the guy down to the holding cells. No big deal.

Scott stood on the other side of him, just as annoyed at the interruption to the daily routine. These things were mostly routine, but you never knew when things would go wrong. On more than one occasion, a certain amount of manhandling was involved. He didn’t think the guards would give them any trouble, he had seen these two before.

The Professor had a long and confidential relationship with SHIELD. SHIELD, or Strategic Hazard Intervention Espionage Logistic Directorate was a government agency that handled all kinds of Homeland Security issues, including hazardous mutants and their militant underground groups. They were aware of the X-men and their peace keeping efforts.

Sometimes they worked together, sometimes not. Either way, SHIELD was more than happy to incarcerate the violent offenders the X-men might collect in their efforts. In appreciation, sometimes SHIELD would cover up for the X-men if there was collateral damage during an X-men skirmish or if the occasional infiltration of other mutant groups was discovered. More than one X-man had been arrested by accident and had to be negotiated over. Favors were owed on both sides and used for mutual advantage. In this case, this prisoner had been considered dangerous, but not a criminal. He was brought here for safe keeping and rehabilitation, not incarceration.

Scott walked up to the truck and spoke with the driver, exchanging polite greetings and the usual paperwork. A second guard in a navy colored uniform came out of the truck and walked around to the back, loosening up his billy club as he moved. He opened the back doors and got ready for trouble.

A small blond person of questionable gender shuffled out into the light. He had long blond hair, impossibly tangled, and wore a pair of ridiculously pink, ripped up prisoner cover-alls. His arms were bare, revealing a soft covering of light blond hair, thick around his elbows. His hands were cuffed to a set of chains around his waist that led to a set of hobble chains around his ankles. A clear, plastic face muzzle was fastened neatly in place around his mouth.

The guard stood by as he descended and didn’t assist the prisoner out of the truck. The prisoner shuffled to the edge and jumped down to the pavement, landing neatly in spite of the chains. He tossed his head and looked around him in wonder at the huge house, not quite sure what to make of it. The morning sun was bright and he blinked and was stooped over as if he hadn’t been outside in days. The guard jerked on his arm, making sure the prisoner knew he was there and had best be on his good behavior.

Logan sighed, not really wanting to deal with this crap today. All those chains and the muzzle only spelled trouble. He looked up as Jean came out of the house. She was as beautiful as ever, dressed in red to match her hair. Logan smiled at her, always warmed by her presence. “Mornin’, Jeannie.”

“To what do we owe this unexpected pleasure?” she asked, jerking a thumb in the prisoner’s direction.

“Friend of Charlie’s named Mason said this guy pulled him out of a burnin’ buildin’. Saved his life. He took the little fella in and I guess he was stayin’ in the basement like some kinda pet or somethin’. Now Charlie’s friend croaked and left this gem fer Charlie ta take care of. Said maybe Charlie can straighten him out. ‘S gonna be a real trip. Some lady named Karen Richards has been working with ‘im. She’s supposed to come by tomorrow and help us out.”

“Mason leave this guy any money?”

“Yeah. The guy left him ten million dollars. Go figure. Looks like Charlie’s gonna earn every penny of it.”

“What’s his name?”

“Carver or something like that.”

Jean looked at the restraints. “More like Hannibal.”

Logan grinned. “Can ya get anything off of him?”

Jean concentrated and sent out a mental probe into the prisoner. The prisoner was instantly aware of it and froze, growling, or at least as well as he could with the muzzle on. Jean chuckled.

“What?”

“Carver’s having some fun with us. Her mental shields are as formidable as yours.”

“ ‘Her’?”

“Yes. Carver’s a girl,” she replied, amused.

The driver and Scott met the guard at the rear of the truck. The driver turned to Cyclops and said, “Some of these restraints have to come back with us. Sorry, it’s the rules.”

The guard began to remove her hobbling ankle chains. Carver stood still as she was fussed over, but kept glancing up at Logan, assessing him with her eyes and sniffing in his direction.

“No problem,” Scott replied. He was signing some papers and was unaware of the prisoner taking everything in. He handed the clipboard back to the driver and got moving. He only wanted the men to leave, he didn’t think the prisoner was anything he and Logan couldn’t handle.

Logan stepped down from the porch and walked up to Carver. He had seen her checking him out, oh, yes. “You gonna give us a hard time, darlin’?”

She just grinned, showing him her sharp looking teeth and said nothing. Her canine teeth were long and pointed and Logan saw that she had good sized claws on her fingers, too. Another feral mutant champing at the bit and spoiling for a fight. This was going to be fun.

“She’s a biter,” one of the guards said as he took off her muzzle. “Be careful.”

“She ain’t gonna be no trouble are ya, girl?” He fixed her with his eyes.

Carver hawked and spat right in his face.

Logan grinned, showing her his own teeth in a dominating gesture as he wiped his cheek. “That one ya get fer free. The rest yer gonna pay for...dearly.”

Carver growled at him and hissed at him like a cat. Her voice was filled with gravel and hate and was oh, so familiar.

Logan sniffed at her loudly and groaned. “Oh, don’t even tell me!”

“What?” Scott asked. He knew Logan well enough to trust his instincts.

“Who’s her parents?” Logan gruffly asked the guards.

“How would we know? We just make deliveries.”

“Great,” Logan complained. “C’mon, kid. Let’s go.”

Wolverine grabbed Carver’s arm roughly and started towing her towards the house. Her only restraint now was the cuffs on her wrists so she stumbled along, startled by his speed. Logan had smelled from her that her defiant actions were a false bravado covering her intense fear. She was terrified of the guards, the house and himself. He also got a whiff of her possible heritage and that concerned him more than her emotional state. He wanted only to get her to a holding cell as soon as possible.

“What?” Scott repeated perplexed, following. He could see Logan was agitated over something.

To read more click here : http://www.fanfiction.net/s/2608701/1/Shattered

 

[squeekness]

“Who’s her parents?” Logan gruffly asked the guards.

“How would we know? We just make deliveries.”

“Great,” Logan complained. “C’mon, kid. Let’s go.”

Wolverine grabbed Carver’s arm roughly and started towing her towards the house. Her only restraint now was the cuffs on her wrists so she stumbled along, startled by his speed. Logan had smelled from her that her defiant actions were a false bravado covering her intense fear. She was terrified of the guards, the house and himself. He also got a whiff of her possible heritage and that concerned him more than her emotional state. He wanted only to get her to a holding cell as soon as possible.

“What?” Scott repeated perplexed, following. He could see Logan was agitated over something.

“Not here,” Logan grumbled and kept moving. When they got to the steps, Carver dug her heels in suddenly and twisted, throwing Logan over her shoulder. She handled his unexpected weight easily in spite of her small size. Apparently she had more than just claws and fangs, she was quite strong. She backed up to flee, but he was already on his feet. She spun quickly to run and he gave chase, catching her easily. He slammed her roughly against the back of the truck. She slashed at him with her claws, but he caught her wrists by the cuffs and pinned her back, using his extra weight to his fullest advantage. The SHIELD guys just stood by and waited with smiles of amusement, doing nothing to interfere as they watched the show.

Logan scrutinized their newest guest and knew what she was all about. She was here in a new place and all alone. She had no idea what was in store for her and felt only the need to run. He wasn’t the least bit angry at her, knowing what her situation was. This wasn’t the first time he’d had to negotiate with a terrified newcomer here. He held her down without releasing her and locked her with his eyes.

“Now you just give ol’ Logan a listen here, darlin’. Nuthin’ bad is gonna happen to ya just so long as ya calm down and relax, okay?”

She said nothing, but trembled in his grip, the smell of her fear intense as it flooded Wolverine’s nose. He looked at her more closely and saw a deep, jagged scar across her neck. It was very old. At some point her throat had been slashed, it was probably the only reason she wasn’t here spitting insults at him like most other prisoners did. Clearly she’d suffered some kind of abuse at the hand of another.

He reached out and touched her face in an uncharacteristically tender gesture and she responded by calming down a little. He could smell her and read her moods, using all of his senses, and was trying to put her at ease. Logan always had a way with wild, frightened animals and this feral child was no different.

“This is yer home now and we’re gonna take care of ya. Karen Richards, that nice lady that works with ya, is comin’ tomorrow. You just gotta sit tight until then. Can ya handle it?” he asked gently.

Carver nodded almost imperceptibly and he eased her away from the truck, gripping her tightly. He still didn’t trust her not to try and take off again. He nodded at the guards and they finished packing up the truck as he tugged her up the steps. He paused on the porch and let Jean have a look at her.

Don’t be afraid, Jean sent out as a gentle reassurance.

I want Karen. It was Carver’s only thought.

“She’ll be here tomorrow. I promise. Now come with us and we’ll get you settled in.”

Jean took Carver’s other arm gently and they went into the house. They walked past Gambit who lounged lazily in the hallway, Kimble’s drawings stuffed under his arm. He looked relaxed but he was impatient to get going, they weren’t going to find Kimble just standing around here. His eyes met Carver’s as she passed and he nodded at her just slightly in greeting, but he didn’t think much of her. People came and went around here and this was nothing new. Besides, he had a lot more on his mind.
Fallen was sitting at his feet, her back to the wall with her ankles crossed and her head down. Wolverine could smell her despair, but held a small grudge. If she’d paid more attention to Kimble like she should have, he wouldn’t have taken off.

“I’ll just be another minute,” Wolverine grumbled and Remy nodded. They would wait.
Logan brought his young charge down to the holding cells and he led her inside one of the small cubicles. The holding cells here would be much more generous than those at SHIELD. Each one had its own private bathroom with a shower and a large comfortable bed. He had taken her to one that was for those of lower risk, there was a small television and a radio in here as well. He removed her cuffs and held his hand out. “It ain’t much, but it’ll do fer now. Someone’ll come along and bring ya some food in a bit. Are ya hungry?”

She nodded and made a quick gesture with her hands. Wolverine cocked his head at her, not understanding. She sighed impatiently, frustrated by her inability to communicate, and sat down on the bed, her back to the wall and her head down. He grabbed a pad of paper and a pen from the security desk and waved it at her. She just shook her head and turned away. He didn’t know what else to do for her. Henry was coming down to take a look at her, he’d know what to do. He stepped out of the cell and activated the shield, locking her inside.

As he backed away, he glanced over at Joseph, the last surviving Clansman. He had completely withdrawn into himself since the death of his Master. He lay rumpled and curled up on his bunk, his hands over his face. He’d been miserable like this for days. He hadn’t eaten and was terribly thin and drawn, not even fully recovered from Jael’s illness. Henry said he would give him another couple of days before moving him to the infirmary to be forced fed if necessary. It made Wolverine sick to see him, the man had been strong, a fierce fighter. Now he lay like a dead thing, his spirit gone. It might have been better if he’d died like the others, Wolverine couldn’t help but think.

Logan had better things to do than dwell on Joseph, though, and he turned and left, heading back up the stairs to where Remy and Fallen were waiting.

To read more click here : http://www.fanfiction.net/s/2608701/1/Shattered

 

[Prison Mike]

I enjoy your illustrations, Squeeks!

 

[squeekness]

LOL, thanks. Nice to know someone out there is actually still reading this. Or at least looking at it.

 

[Prison Mike]

I actually first saw it at the comingsoon boards. Then I thought you'd probably post it here too and I was right!

 

[squeekness]

LOL, I started it here first and then began over there. Oddly, even though that baord is so quiet, I get three times as many hits on it over there, sometimes a coupla hundred each week. I assume not all of them are just bots. Somebody must be actually reading it.

 

[squeekness]

(Three)

Remy slid his sunglasses down and popped his gum, giving Logan a dubious look. It hadn’t taken him long to show his displeasure at what looked to be a wasted trip by tormenting Wolverine with his reckless chewing. It was a sign of his nervousness and doubt that this little side trip was going to produce anything of value. They had driven out to this junky neighborhood, all of them keeping silent in the Jeep.

Fallen was in the back seat, sullen and sad, but Remy still held her responsible for Kimble’s risk taking and didn’t offer her much in terms of comfort. Fallen had been given an image inducer to disguise her misshapen appearance and it now projected an image of a pretty blonde. It was a false image and did nothing to hide her misery. She felt horrible that Kimble was gone.

Gambit drove to where Logan had directed, his doubt growing with every mile. He stopped where indicated and parked. He got out slowly and looked around him, they were now standing in front of a crumbling old house at the end of a dead end street. Paint lay in chips all about, peeling off the walls like dead skin. Plants growing wild and untamed ran right up the sides of the house as if to take it over and claim it for themselves. Some of the windows had been broken and were boarded up, unrepaired. One good hurricane and this place was coming down, Remy was sure of it. He doubted anyone had lived here for a long time. He shook his head and groaned.

“Dere ain’t no one in dis ‘ouse, homme.”

“Don’t be too sure ‘bout nuthin’ ya see here, Cajun. Anya’s not like anyone else I know. She’s a recluse and real, real old, but it don’t mean she don’t know her stuff.”

“ ‘Ow you know ‘bout ‘er den? Dis ‘ow you get your kicks, lookin’ out for creepy old women? Or jus’ de femmes y’ own age,” Remy joked. It was true no one really knew just how old Logan was, but Remy, still being quite young, figured he must be positively ancient. No one this ornery could be as young as he looked.

Logan grinned at him impatiently. “A friend of a friend brought me here long time ago. Trust me, she’s got the Sight. It’s creepy what she knows.”

Remy was about to make another crack about Logan being wrong about this stupid junky house in this stupid junky neighborhood and maybe they should all just go back home, when the door creaked open and a long haired old woman peered out at them. She smiled up at Logan. “You’re late.”

“Sorry, ma’am. We got a little side tracked,” he apologized politely and took off his cowboy hat. Wolverine had actually made an effort to look decent for this little adventure, he had shaved and put on some clothes a little less worn.

Remy smiled and shook his head again. It always amazed Remy just how respectful and polite Wolverine was to old people and children. It was a gentle side not often seen. Logan was a complex man, just like himself.

“It’s quite all right. I’m sure Molly will settle in fine. She’s quite clever, you know.” She gave Remy an enigmatic smile as she looked him over, but said nothing more.

Logan cocked his head at Remy who just shrugged in confusion. They had no clue who she was talking about.

The old woman withdrew into the house and they followed. The inside was just as disheveled as the outside. It seemed as though the only thing holding the house together were cobwebs and the tall stacks of moldering books that occupied almost every ounce of space in the place. The house had two floors, but the stairs leading up were so covered in dust, it was clear no one had gone up there for some time. They walked along narrow pathways in between the decaying library and crumbling furniture until they came to a small kitchen. This room was different from the others. It was bright and open and looked out onto a large wildflower garden in the back yard. The windows were open and the air was filled with the scents of the flowers and the buzzing of bees as they played and fed among them. Gambit wondered if this was the only room the old woman actually used. It was as if it belonged to a completely different house.

Remy and Fallen took seats at the small kitchen table. Some tea cups had been set out as if she’d been expecting them. Remy hadn’t seen Logan make any calls, but maybe he had slipped out and done it when he wasn’t looking. Logan didn’t sit, but leaned in the doorway patiently.

Anya sat across from Remy and poured him some tea. “You’ll like this,” she said.

He sweetened it and drank. It was quite good. He wasn’t one to make much time for tea, but had always liked it. “Merci beaucoup, chere.”

Anya looked at Fallen and smiled gently. “You can shut that off now, dearie. I can See what you really are.”

Fallen returned her smile and clicked the image inducer off, revealing herself. She felt awkward and uncomfortable, like a spy. “Good morrow,” she said politely.

“Have no fear. In this house we keep no secrets. You look much better this way. You are very pretty.”

“No, I’m not,” Fallen whispered, putting her head down.

“Seth thinks it’s so and so it must be.”

Fallen startled noticeably and looked back at Wolverine who only shrugged. “I told ya she can See. Just make sure you guys listen up. Anya here ain’t steered me wrong, not even once.”

“You are too kind, Old One. Come, sit with us.”

“I’m just fine right here. We ain’t here fer me. I brung ya the Cajun.”

“You are looking for someone,” she said to Remy. It wasn’t a question.

“Dat’s right. Someone came and took ‘im away.”

“This one, he has given you something. Your shine is brighter than it was just a few weeks ago.”

Gambit swallowed heavily and removed his glasses, setting them down on the table. He’d seen some really strange things but anything supernatural always awed him a bit. “You seen me b’fore?”

“Oh, yes. All your pain, your suffering....it was all meant to be. What was done was meant to happen. There was great harm --- and great good, just not in a way you can see. That is the way of things. Always in motion time is. You have found the place where you belong now and you will have the happiness you crave.” She cocked her head at him, her voice going wistful as she suggested, “Two or three at least, I believe. Yes, a boy and a girl. Gifted children, like yourself. Just be patient and keep your eyes open, won’t be long now. You have already met the one who will become your wife.”

Remy laughed a little, amused that she had Seen his greatest wish, but he didn’t have faith enough to believe her prediction. Still he was willing to play along. “Gambit a popular fella, y know. ‘E knows lots of girls. Don’ ‘spose you could be more specific for ‘im, neh? Dat way he make sure not to piss ‘er off,” he said, falling into his comfortable role of the playful scoundrel.

“That would spoil all the fun,” she replied with a mischievous smile.

Remy laughed, his eyes twinkling in amusement. He wanted so much to believe, but had his doubts. The thought of him actually settling down with a wife and kids seemed like a distant possibility and an unlikely occurrence, not with his reckless lifestyle and inability to sit still for half a minute. “Si bien. You sure know ‘ow to tell a boy what ‘e want to ‘ear, fille, but I didn’t come ‘ere for me.”

“Don’t be so sure,” she said with a chuckle at his doubt and nodded at the bundle under Gambit’s arm. “You’ve brought me something.”

Gambit slowly unwrapped the pictures Kimble had made and slid them across the table. He was a little uncertain how she would receive them since she was so old and all. He wished Logan had warned him of her age before they left, he might have been more selective about what he brought instead of bringing them all. He hadn’t looked through them completely and had no idea what was in here.

“What are those?” Fallen asked, her eyes growing wide when she saw what he had brought. Gambit hadn’t known what to expect here and so had told Fallen nothing of these.

“Kimble made dem. Wolvie say Anya ‘ere need sumptin’ of ‘im to ‘elp ‘er See.”

“Where did you get them?”

“Kimble’s room.”

“I had no idea he felt that way about you,” Fallen said awkwardly.

“Mebbe dat’s ‘cause you don’ pay him no ‘tention. Dis boy don’ ‘ide nuthin’.”

Fallen turned away, her eyes threatening tears. “I’m sorry.”
“Kinda late fer that now, ain’t it?” Logan grumbled.

“You don’t understand. Seth --”

“Is not de whole worl’, chere,” Remy interrupted. “You ‘ave two children. You can’t pass over one for de other wit’out sumptin’ givin’. Kimble was breakin’ an’ you let ‘im go like ‘e didn’ matter.”

“He matters to me!” Fallen insisted, a hard edge coming into her voice.

“He’s always been there for me. I wouldn’t have gotten this far without him, I know that.”

“Now yer gonna hafta be here fer him,” Logan said. “It’s gonna take all of us ta find him. Could take a while, too. We’ve got no idea what Kimble’s caught up in now but it looks real bad. Seth is gonna hafta wait.”

Anya paid no attention to their bickering, she was looking through the drawings, mumbling quietly to herself. She had picked them up with old and trembling fingers and she sifted through them with a laugh, raising an eyebrow. She smiled up at Remy now, her eyes merry. “This one loves you,” she whispered, slipping one of them out for him to see.

To read more click here : http://www.fanfiction.net/s/2608701/1/Shattered

 

[squeekness]

Gambit had only flipped through the ones on the top. This one was new. The drawing she had selected was an odd one of the bunch Kimble had made. It was carefully drawn with the clarity of a photograph, not roughly made like the others. It was one of the few that didn’t depict a sexual act, but was one of Remy standing quite still with Kimble behind him, his arms around him in a loving embrace. They were both nude, but that wasn’t the point. One of Kimble’s lovely white arms was draped around Gambit’s bare shoulders and across his neck, his hand just touching Remy’s face in a simple, yet intimate gesture. His chin rested slightly on Gambit’s shoulder, his lips lightly touching Remy’s bare skin in a gentle kiss. Kimble’s other arm encircled Gambit’s waist in a fond, but not provocative way, it was a sign of love, not of lust entirely. Kimble had drawn himself as if he were translucent like a ghost, a secret lover whose presence was significant enough to be felt. It was a powerful picture, though simply drawn, and it had called to Anya with all the love Kimble had put into it.

“Is ‘e alive?” Remy said softly, his voice almost too soft to be heard. The drawing Kimble had made took his breath away. The sexual ones had made him laugh because they were so fantastic, they were easy to dismiss. This one hurt because the love there was all too real.

Anya nodded slowly. “Yes. But forever changed.”

“Where is he?” Logan growled from the doorway. He had known Anya a long time and had watched her closely, letting her work her magic and observing Gambit’s reactions to what she had to say. He knew this woman could really See and wanted to gauge Remy’s responses to see if her truths struck deep. Remy’s body would tell him what was important.

“His future and yours are entwined,” Anya continued to Gambit, ignoring Logan’s question and looking deeply into Remy’s face. “I See him there always for you. Always his love his there.”

Gambit swallowed hard, but said nothing.

Anya looked through more of the pictures. “He is many people.”

“Quoi?” Remy asked, still dazed.

She lay down the first one she’d shown him, the one of Kimble and Remy together. “The Lover.”

She pulled out another. This one showed a man with a shattered mirror face holding a sword. “The Punisher.”

Once more she took from the stack. “And the Quitter.”

Remy took the last one and turned it around so he could see. This one was very disturbing. It showed a shadowed image of a small girl chained to the floor of an empty stone room, like an ancient prison. A single barred window let bright moonlight shine across the floor. Remy recognized this place. This was the room Kimble had been incarcerated in on Siska on the night when the Dognan came to take him away, only the skin Kimble was wearing was different. Remy knew this child. This was the female Young Kimble, Sheyman’s favorite skin, chained down. She was tiny here as she was then, a girl of about thirteen years of age. She had her head down, her eyes horribly sad and lost. She was covered in filth and grime. Flies buzzed around her as if she were a piece of garbage. A broken wooden sign was tied around her neck. It said, “Junta bay.”

“De worse’ evil in de world,” Remy said, reading it. “I know dis from de files. Dis is Young Kimble t’inkin’ she ain’t wort’ de sh-t she’s covered in.”

Fallen said nothing, but took the pictures and looked at them. It deepened her melancholy that Remy had instantly known what Kimble had expressed here. Yes, she recognized the image from the files as Remy said, but since she hadn’t been so connected to Kimble’s mind and feelings, it was just a picture to her. Not so to Remy, obviously. It made her realize that at some point when she wasn’t looking, ownership of Kimble had subtly changed hands. Kimble now belonged more to this Cajun thief than to her. Kimble was gone and she’d let him go, almost without a care. She wiped at her face as a tear finally broke free and dribbled down her cheek.

“Fear not, dearie,” Anya said to her. “He would have left you eventually. These three are constantly at war, driving him away.”

“What’re you tryin’ ta say?” Logan asked. This wasn’t what he had expected to hear from Anya. “What do ya mean by he’s three people?”

“He was defective when he was made, something not quite right about him. A mutant of his own kind.” Anya paused when she heard Remy laugh a little, the thief hadn’t quite heard Kimble’s condition said that way before and although it was apt, it was also a little funny. She smiled at him again. “Yes, your friend is different. And unstable. It was made worse since the loss of his...father?” she questioned and continued when Remy nodded. “His world shattered and his mind and spirit with it. Now he is split, the three of them fighting like bickering children. The ones who made him knew this could happen. That is why the ones like him were always destroyed.”

Remy balked a little. She hadn’t been told anything about Kimble, there was no way she should know about him being a hologram or of Siska. “How you know all dis, chere?”

Anya smiled at Gambit with controlled impatience. “This is why you are here. To learn what I know, what I can See. I know he is not human, that he is not alive like you and me and so do you. So let’s stop playing around about who and what he is, shall we?” She next pointed to the picture of Zander. “You know these people. This one did not surprise you, but this one did,” she said, turning to the Quitter. “Surely you’ve seen her before? Not in the memories, boy, in the here and now. Look at her eyes.”

Remy looked closely at it and a flash of images came to him. The low slump of Kimble’s wings after he’d been busted with Holly. The grief on his face after the vibration of Remy’s disappointment had been sent his way and crushed his spirit. That was the pain he saw in the Quitter’s eyes. That same look was there in the gym when Kimble had turned away from him on the beam as he asked to be left alone. I don’ wanna be awake no more. That’s what Kimble had said. “Oui, Gambit’s seen dis one.”

“She is the one who is causing all the trouble. The Lover and the Punisher, they work together to a point to hold this one down, but things have changed, some of the barriers have...melted away. Yes, I see fire, heat. Some kind of burning.”

Wolverine was quick to explain, “He was attacked by a group of mutants. We think he might have gotten melted or something. We were afraid he was destroyed.”

“But you had reason to believe he was still in some way alive. That is why you are here.”

“That’s right. You got any idea where he is?” Wolverine repeated, hoping she would get around to the meat of this so they could get going. Kimble’s mental state wasn’t as important as getting his ass back home where he belonged.

“He is with the ones who took him,” Anya replied simply.

Logan smiled at her impetuous answer, but his eyes were hard. Like any good fortune teller, she was only giving him the minimum, wanting him to ask all the questions and guide the direction this was going to go. He really didn’t have the patience for this and was aggravated that she was being so cryptic. She usually got right to the point, but not this time. “And where are they?”

“You will go looking, but you will not find him. I think in time he will come back to you,” she answered, then paused before going back to where she had started. Again she went back to the maddening topic of Kimble’s mental state, obviously she was trying to make a point. “The thing you must understand is that he is three people. He can lose one and the body will still survive. Understand?”

Remy was listening, his attuned senses telling him this was important, this thing she kept insisting on. Her words sent a chill shot right through him. He was hearing her message, and to his horror, they made a sad sort of sense. “Oui. You say de Lover can die. But de others remain in power.”

Logan snorted and shook his head. “What? You sayin’ Kimble’s some kind of split personality? I know the boy ain’t right, but that’s goin’ a bit far ain’t it?”

To read more click here : http://www.fanfiction.net/s/2608701/1/Shattered

 

[squeekness]

(Four)

Anya turned and looked at Wolverine. “You of all people should know what it means to be broken. Besides, you asked me what I See and I have answered you. He is not human, not even flesh, yet you question his ability to break. You’ve been left more than once on the highway when your bike broke down. I seem to recall that’s how we met.”

Logan laughed at her reference to the past, but did not believe. “He ain’t a bike, Anya.”

“But he is a machine, yes?”

Wolverine simply glared at her benevolently, not quite ready to admit she had a point. “Yeah, he’s a machine.”

Gambit lowered his eyes, grumbling inwardly. He disliked this, a conversation where Kimble was discussed like a piece of hardware, a computer gone nuts. Kimble would never be less than real to him, it was impossible. Thing was, he had no room to argue, so he swallowed it, the hurt and the anger.

Anya seemed to sense it and her voice was gentle as she turned back to speak to him. She was careful to speak of Kimble in more human terms as she said, “Your friend, he is a machine. One that was damaged, just as Logan once wrecked his bike. Logan walked away, but the bike didn’t. This is the same with Kimble as well. He is more than one person, has been since before this wreck, though I don’t think he even knows it. The wreck, or this melting, only made it worse. It will bring those persons out into the open.”

Fallen shook her head. “I’ve known Kimble the longest and I’ve never seen this. There must be some mistake. If he’s acting this way, it’s only to get attention. He knows how to manipulate people to get what he wants.”

“Got that right,” Wolverine grumbled, thinking of Kimble’s sometimes childish behavior back on the ship.

Remy shook his head again, feeling the beginnings of headache form behind his eyes. Since the file sharing with Kimble he was increasingly sensitive to the emotions of other people, becoming more than just a low level empath himself. He was trying to learn how to shut out the emotional vibrations of those around him, but he was just a little stressed this morning. He didn’t like what he was feeling from the others. “Kimble wouldn’t screw around. Not like dis.”

Anya’s hand touched his own. “I assure all of you he is not. He is three people, not just three sides of one man. Not all of these people are equal in strength and the Lover is the most at risk. The Punisher, he protects and is the body’s will to survive. But the Quitter, well, she is the most powerful and the most stubborn. She craves only her own death and will cause much pain and suffering until she finally finds it. She is capable of the greatest evil and the most damage to others. She will do some horrible things, I think, if she is allowed to take the Lover’s place and has control of the body.”

“Then we should take Kimble down,” Wolverine reasoned, unable to hide a certain ‘I told you so’ tone to his voice. Even if this was all bullsh-t, he wouldn’t allow Fallen’s runaway broken machine to hurt anyone else.

Anya shook her head in swift negation. “No. The Lover has work to do and must be allowed to do it, even if he doesn’t wish it.”

“Quoi?” Remy interrupted. “What work?”

Anya locked him with her eyes, demanding his attention and complete understanding. “His angel. It is important that he be the one to find her. If the Quitter finds her, the angel will become as corrupted as the Quitter herself.”

Remy vaguely remembered Kimble saying something about an angel coming to him. It was when Kimble had been stabbed on the Lucky Dragon and almost died. He claimed to have had a vision of his father, Sheyman. Sheyman told him an angel would come and Kimble would have some kind of job to do. Kimble’s claims didn’t exactly go against what Anya was saying now, but Remy needed more. “Dis angel? She a girl?”

“She is a great power, and the ultimate prize. She is the one the players are all really looking for, not your friend. The Lover must find her and become her Guardian. This is his place, what he has been destined to do. The ones who have him now care not which of the three finds the angel, only that one of them does so they can take it and use it for themselves. Whoever controls the Guardians, controls the power, understand?”

Gambit chuckled and shook his head. “Non, but dat’s all right. We go find Kimble, bring ‘im ‘ome. ‘E find ‘is angel and we all done, neh? Simple.”

She laughed at him. “You two are very much alike. This is why he loves you.”

“P’etetre, he jus’ know class when ‘e see it.”

“Yes, perhaps this is so,” she agreed, her eyes merry.

“What do ya mean by Guardians?” Wolverine complained, interrupting. He had no patience for joking around. He thought all this was way over the top and was unhappy how Remy was buying into this so completely. Of course he had brought the Cajun here and Anya hadn’t steered him wrong yet. As much as he disliked this, Wolverine was being forced to swallow it. He just wished more of this made sense and that Anya would just spell out what was going on. “You sayin’ there’s more’n one Kimble machine out there?”

“I see many Guardians, many angels. All pieces of a larger puzzle yet to be discovered.”

Logan groaned inwardly. This was becoming more complicated than he liked. “Well, ain’t that just peachy. So you gonna say where Kim’s at?”

She regarded him with her dark green eyes, not the least bit put off by his impatience, she’d known him far too long. “In two weeks’ time he’ll be down at Dockside on the full moon. First pier, the warehouse with the broken window second from the right,” she answered, being very specific for the first time, a response to the direct question. She went on to advise, “You should avoid going there, Old One. Leave him alone. If you choose to seek him out, you must be very careful. You will find him there and when you do, beware of your anger. You have always been full of secrets and he will steal one from you, this I can See. Whatever this one learns, don’t let it come between you. Perhaps then, you can have him if you are clever enough.”

“What are ya talkin’ about?”

“Crazy John,” she whispered softly.

Logan jerked up straight as if he’d had ice water splashed in his face and stepped back, clearly understanding the reference. He hadn’t expected this to get turned around on him and he snarled, clenching his fists. “You hold yer tongue, woman!”

Remy’s head snapped around in surprise. Yeah, Wolverine was gruff and not always so polite, but this was the first time he’d seen such rudeness from Logan to someone much older and supposedly much wiser than himself. The reaction was defensive and the tension in the room skyrocketed, only adding to Gambit’s growing headache. Still Remy was quiet, watchful as ever, waiting for this to get played out.

Where most folks might have backed down at the sight of a bristling Wolverine, Anya held her place. “No. You hold yours when he sees what you’ve hidden. You will bring the Quitter to the fore and blood will cover her hands. Her blood will be your blood. You can try to stop it, but I think you will fail. There is much anger in you and it will make you reckless. You will open the cage that holds the Quitter back and the Lover may perish.”

Gambit shook his head in a useless denial. He had no idea who Crazy John was or why Logan should be so afraid. I mean, that’s what this was, right? Gambit had never seen the look in Logan’s eyes that he saw now. Logan was terrified and furious all at once. “What does Logan ‘ave to do wit dis Crazy John? Why is dis secret gonna kill my Kimble? What are you sayin’?”

Logan was no longer interested in continuing this conversation. He turned suddenly and walked out, slamming the front door behind him.

“Beware the Quitter,” Anya continued as if she had expected Logan’s reaction. She didn’t answer Gambit’s questions, but went on to say, “The Quitter has the strongest will and could kill your Lover if he becomes so devastated he chooses to allow her to do so. Logan’s secret has something to do with the Lover. It is not clear to me, but it’s the reason they dislike each other so. The Lover will see it and be crushed by it. The Quitter will take advantage of this to gain control. The Punisher may not stop her if he sees the Lover as an impediment to his goals.”

“An ‘is goals?”

“He wants his power to grow. He has been charged with the duty of learning his role as protector and takes it very seriously. If your Old One should fail to bring your Lover home, I fear an alliance between the Punisher and the Quitter. It could destroy the Lover and your pilot will become a twisted thing of evil, a weapon used by others to cause much pain and suffering. I must advise against you seeking him out. It would be better if you just let him go for a time.”

Remy looked down at his hands, willing her statements to be ones of symbolism and not of actual facts. He just couldn’t fight the fact that he sensed on every level she was telling the truth and being very, very literal. “Gambit can’t do dat, chere. He all alone. He need me.”

“Then leave Logan behind and try on your own. Perhaps the Lover will see your efforts and it will speed him on his way back to you. If you do get him back, you’ll have quite the fight. The Quitter won’t give up her bid for control easily. Perhaps you could wear her down with enough persistence.”

“How we goan’ wear dis Quitter down?”

“With lots of patience, love, understanding and ...chocolate?” she asked at the end with another laugh.

Gambit smiled at her, amused and awed by her intuition. “You a smart girl, chere.”

“Yes. That I am. Have no fear, young man. I see your will is strong. Your love will not fail the Lover and you’ll find what you seek as long as you never give up.”

“Gambit ain’t givin’ up. Not on dis one.”

“Do not fail. The angel is the key. This is only the first step in the Game, but it is the most important. There is a coming battle that will span years, a tug of war that has already begun with Jael, but won’t end for some time. You have chosen the right side. Don’t lose that wonderful sense of adventure you have,” she said with a smile.
“What a fine Game this will be. Old enemies will become your greatest allies and surprises come around every corner, but I think you will win. Yes, if you play this first move correctly.”

Jus’ like every other adventure in our lives, Remy thought wryly to himself. Another day, another dollar around here. “You sure know how to make a boy feel important.”

She grinned at him indulgently. “It was your destiny to be here, to find the Lover and become his brother. Don’t be fearful of him, he means you no harm. If you succeed in your rescue, he will be your greatest friend and the Punisher your strongest weapon. It’s the Quitter you’ll have to endure, but the Lover and the Punisher wish only for life. Use them and they will help you.”

Anya looked at Fallen. The pilot had been quiet all this time, not really feeling part of this anymore. It was as if they were talking about a stranger. She’d known Kimble for years, yet none of this made any sense.

Anya touched her hands. “You brought this one out of darkness and gave him life. Don’t feel bad if it seems as though he is gone from you. It’s all part of destiny, these parts we play. You’ve done what you were meant to do and now your job is done. Let him go, save his brother. He will have need of him when he returns. Please, give me some time with Remy. I’ll just need a few minutes.”

Fallen nodded and rose. She thanked Anya for the tea and left, her shoulders as low as Kimble’s had been. Remy watched her go, his heart breaking for her a little. He looked back at the old woman, uncertain what was coming next.

Anya spread out the pictures again. She lightly brushed the lines of Remy’s face that the Lover had drawn. “The Lover may be lost for a time, but perhaps he could be awakened. It will take great love and courage to save him from the Quitter. It might be you who does this, or perhaps someone else. That part is closed to me. But I can say this. Your love for each other...this is your greatest tool. You will be the one most likely to succeed in recovering the Lover if the body is returned to you. It won’t be easy. The Quitter will do some horrible, horrible things in order to bring about her own destruction. Don’t give up on your Lover because of her. Don’t turn him away.”

Anya pawed at the drawing again, at the intimacy portrayed there. “The Lover must be the one to find the angel, that is the key to winning your small piece of the Game. You must be brave and use whatever weapons you have to, to bring the Lover out and make him strong enough to hold the Quitter at bay so he can do what must be done. Do not fear his love, his desire...use it to help you. If this should come to pass..” she hesitated, using a finger to emphasize the intimacy in Kimble’s drawing, “...it will only make you stronger and your bond will save your friend. It won’t stop you from getting that which you most desire...your wife and kids. In fact, I think he just might help you find them.”

Remy shivered, not accustomed to listening to old women speak of unconventional sex so boldly. He now knew why she had dismissed Fallen. He decided to respond as plainly as she had and lay his hand over hers as she continued to stroke his face on the paper. “ ‘E ask me for dis, I say non.”

“Maybe the next time, it will be you who asks.”

Gambit laughed and stood up, growing more uncomfortable by the minute. He seriously doubted he would ever be so tempted, even by Kimble, but just the same, didn’t like the way this was heading. “Merci, for all your ‘elp, chere, an’ for de tea. C’est bon. It’s as good as you say.”

She gathered his drawings and gave them back with a smile. “I like you. It feels good to laugh, even if it is at your expense.” She wouldn’t let him leave until she had given him a small bag full of tea and a big hug. “Relax, young man. This old woman sees only much happiness for you, even through the dark times. Your laugh is your strongest asset. Too bad the Old One doesn’t share this.”

“Oui. I been workin’ on dat, y’ know? ‘E don’t make it easy.”

She gave him another squeeze. “Keep trying. It’s for his own good.”

Gambit laughed, making her smile again. “Dat’s a promise.”

He gave her a kiss, thanked her again for the tea and left. He walked down her broken front porch feeling a little giddy. Anya’s words had made him feel better about the future, even if he didn’t buy into everything she’d said. The thought of Kimble’s return and the chance at a real life with a wife and all the trimmings cheered him. He decided not to dwell on her prediction of Kimble’s possible destruction. He was confident that they could bring Kimble back from the warehouse. They had the upper hand with the power of foreknowledge. It wasn’t the first time a premonition was used to help the X-men get out of scrap and that’s all this was, just another scrap. As long as he could think of it that way, he could keep his heart from breaking. Kimble would not be lost to him, he promised.

He walked back to the Jeep. Both Fallen and Logan sat quiet, hunched down in their seats. Logan’s anger smouldered, his eyes closed as he smoked a cigarette, trying to calm down. Whatever Anya had known about spooked him badly and he was retreating now, shutting down any plans Gambit may have had for asking him what she’d been talking about. Just the look on his face was enough to burst Remy’s bubble a little. Maybe he shouldn’t be so optimistic. He would be sure to start bugging Logan about his little secret at his earliest convenience, that was for sure.

Remy got into the driver’s seat and drove them back to the house, thoughtful himself. They would report in and see if the others had turned up anything. Gambit’s mind wandered wistfully as he drove. He hoped with all of his heart that Kimble was okay. It was a good thing he was, by nature, optimistic. He couldn’t imagine what his friend had gone through last night.

To read more click here : http://www.fanfiction.net/s/2608701/1/Shattered

 

[squeekness]

(Five)

The night before, Kimble hadn’t been prepared for the level of pain that assaulted him when the blast of plasma energy hit him. He was swallowed up in a boiling ball of lava and the heat of it forced all of his internal systems to shut down. It was mainly Fallen’s cleverness that had saved him. When she constructed the hologram components, the hardware she’d selected was of the highest quality. It was hot, but didn’t melt down. He was still alive somehow. In his own defense, Kimble was forced to retreat deeper into his own systems than he’d ever been before. He saw it as if it were a dream.

He was falling down through a pitch black sky, screaming as his body was on fire. He left a trail of black smoke and ash behind him as if he was being transformed into something else. Layers of him were being burned away. He landed on the floor of his own internal black room painfully with a loud thud and lay whimpering and broken. This was no soft black silky bed waiting for his arrival. He hit the deck hard and was now smouldering, smoke wafting off of his shoulders like steam. Well, it could be worse, he couldn’t help but think, at least he was no longer on fire.

Kimble groaned and looked around him, blinking through the haze of his charred and smoking skin. It was horribly hot and close in here, like a sauna. He was in the circle of light, but he wasn’t alone.

“Welcome to the party, kid.”

Kimble turned his head and saw Zander crouched beside him some distance away. He was down on one knee and chained to the floor, growling in protest of his confinement.

“Where am I ?” Kimble asked, wincing from the pain as he sat up. Flakes of ash drifted from him, revealing pink but normal skin under his burns. In this unreal world, he was healing.

“Yer in our system deep. This is where all the really good stuff happens,” Zander replied, a bitter edge to his voice.

Kimble rubbed his eyes and tried to get a better sense of where he was. He cocked his head in surprise when he saw two more sets of chains on the outside edge of the circle where Zander was imprisoned. The first set was unoccupied and a message was etched into the floor -- “Seth was here,” next to a plaque that read “The One Who’d Broken Free.”

The next set held a small girl. Zander’s ghost, now all too real, looked back at him with the familiar blue eyes of Sheyman’s favorite skin. She appeared now as Kimble had drawn her, but he had no memory of doing so. He’d crafted that image in a fog, a kind of trance where his hands had moved to create and then filed the finished picture away as if it had never been. She had guided his hands that day, taking him over and making her presence known. Zander had been pissed off about it and buried the picture away, not wanting to trouble Kimble with it.

“Who’re you?” Kimble asked, not sure he wanted to know.

“Don’ looks at me, I’m ugly. Not worth sh-t. All I feels is pain,” she whispered softly, her despair all too real. “Gots ta make it stop.”

“See what I’ve had ta put up with? She don’ never shut up,” Zander complained.

“What’s goin’ on?” Kimble asked bewildered. He knew this was no dream.

“We’s dyin’,” the girl said, an odd smile brightening her face a little.

“No we ain’t. I been there b’fore. This ain’t it.”

“Yes it is,” she insisted defiantly. “We’re gonna go see father and all will be like it useta be when he loved us. We ain’t gonna be ‘lone no more!”

“Just humor her,” Zander growled. “She’s so stupid, she won’t know no better.”

“I ain’t stupid!” she hollered, rising to her feet. As she moved, her stink rose with her. She broke off a piece of her filth encrusted sign and flung it at Zander, hitting him in the face. One of his mirror pieces chipped and fell away with a clink. Blood poured from the wound, showing he was so much more than just a mere image.
“F-ckin’ b-tch!” he snarled and drew his sword. They were too far apart for him to reach her, but he swung it at her just the same.

Kimble reeled, covering his face as he tried to take all of this insanity in. This was a nightmare. “Stop this! What’s goin’ on?!”

“This’s the fun house, kid. Yer seein’ yerself like ya never done b’fore,” Zander answered, lowering his sword and calming down a little.

“This ain’t me! I ain’t all of you! I’m Kimble!”

“Really? Look at yerself good, boy.”

Kimble looked down at his body. He was no longer burned and smoking. The ash had fallen away and his skin was white and clean as if it had never been damaged, but now he was sporting a fashionable set of chains just like the others. Somehow he’d been pushed back to the outer edge of the circle as well. It seemed more like a square now, each one of the set of chains was an equal distance apart. Kimble looked down to where the chains were bolted to the floor and saw a plaque there labeled, the Lover. They all had one. The Lover, the Punisher, the Quitter, and the One Who Had Broken Free.

“No..!” Kimble sobbed miserably. This whole thing was too surreal for him to take. If he’d thought he’d gone off the deep end before, he’d been sadly mistaken. He was sitting here now in the circle of his mind, shattered.

“Don’ feel so bad, kid,” Zander said with little comfort. “We’ve been here longer than you. We’ve been here watchin’ you run around with all the control, screwin' up an’ embarrassin’ the crap out of us...well, me anaways. That b-tch over there don’ much care. All she does is complain and talk about how great it’s all gonna be when we’re all dead. Least with you down here now, I’ll have some decent company.”

“This ain’t real!” Kimble continued to sob, covering his face.

“Shoulda spiked us when ya had the chance,” the girl whispered as she sat back down again on the floor. “Woulda saved us all some pain.”

“Shut up, ‘Shay. I’m so sick of yer mouth,” Zander snapped. “Cain’t ya see the boy’s jus’ a little upset? Leave him alone!”

Kimble looked at her, his cheeks wet. “ ‘Shay? That’s yer name?”

“Lakotashay.”

Kimble laughed bitterly and shook his head. How apt. Lakotashay, the Siskan equivalent of dog sh-t. Whatever you could visualize in your mind as the worst kind of filth or scum, that’s what Lakotashay was. Of course this girl would be so familiar. She was the sum of all of his self loathing and despair as Zander was the sum of all of his rage and desire to lash out at those who had hurt him so badly. What a motley band of souls, these. Straight jacket and padded cell here we come.

Kimble shivered suddenly as the heat all around him dropped sharply. “What now?”
he wailed and then screamed as he was sucked into a blinding white whirlwind.

In the circle of light, Zander shook his head with gruff amusement as he watched Kimble dissolve and fade away. He knew it meant Kimble was waking up on the outside. “Good luck, kid. Yer gonna needs it,” he said softly, losing some of his gruffness. It was mostly just a cover anyway. He was more protector and punisher than bully. The attitude went with the job.

Lakotashay sobbed and lay her head down to the floor. “It’s not fair! We wuz suppozta die! No! No!”

Zander picked up the piece of the sign she’d flung at him and tossed it back to her. “For the billionth time, shut yer yap! Time ta watch again.”

------------------------------------

Only moments before, Kyle Franks had flown with his steaming burden, hardly able to hold onto it because of the heat of it. What a horrible mission this had been. He had gone with his team to the bar looking for a man with a Mark, a large tattoo. Kyle had a good crew with him --- Gail, a girl more lizard than man and a good fighter. Michael, a gun toting master of weapons who could phase and was naturally invulnerable. Leon, a bio-plasma producer and decent back-up for Michael. Kyle himself was a powerful telekinetic and leader of the gang.

Kyle had decided to save some time by letting Sabertooth and his gang do all the work and just do bit of thieving after. At first, the plan had worked out fine. They had arrived just in time to catch Creed walking out with Kimble tossed over his shoulder. What hadn’t gone right was the big fight that followed. Kimble had managed to run off only to get slammed by one of Leon’s plasma bursts. The pilot hadn’t stood a chance. He took the blast full on and had been melted by it. What a mess.

The only sign that this hadn’t gone totally to sh-t was the fact that Kimble had in fact melted instead of exploding into chunks as was often the case with stray plasma balls. He obviously wasn’t human or even flesh. Kyle then figured that Kimble must be some kind of alien. All the better for him. If he melted, he could be gathered. If he could be gathered, he could perhaps be cooled. If he could be cooled, maybe he could be saved and Kyle’s ass wouldn’t be in a sling.

They had left the bar a only few minutes ago and Kyle carried both Kimble’s remains and his crew aloft as they’d fled. He had no time, he had to cool Kimble off as soon as possible if he was going to salvage this nightmare. Kyle was in command of this team and was in charge of all the decisions. Whatever they did to fix this had to come from his own head. His problem was a lack of options. Good thing he was very experienced and well trained. He’d been in Cameron Bishop’s employ for many years and was his most trusted Seeker.

He flew over a residential area and smiled when he saw a large in-ground swimming pool. It was a good sized pool and a cool night, perfect for what he needed. The pool had a vinyl cover on it, but he slashed through it with a mental command. He dropped sharply and recklessly plunged into the frigid water, not caring about the shock to his own system. There was a loud splash and hiss of steam as the container of Kimble’s orange glowing fluids hit the water. It wasn’t even close to being silent.

“Cover me!” Kyle gasped from the cold water as the back door of the house opened and the owner came running out with a gun. Kyle had used his power to lower the others into the yard and they now drew their own weapons in response to his order. The owner balked, just as surprised by the small band of mutants as he was from the noise they’d made. Just the sight of Gail and her jagged crocodile face was enough to make him wet himself.


“Get out of here!” he shouted, his trembling voice betraying him. He was an old man dressed only in a worn out housecoat. All of his fight had evaporated.

“We’ll be out of your way in a minute,” Michael said sternly, making sure the man saw his pistols. He favored Desert Eagles and they were quite large and menacing looking. “We just need your pool for a moment.”

The owner swallowed and debated his options. He was outgunned and had no will to pursue this. What a stupid stinking world this had become where a man couldn’t even protect his own yard from all of these mutant freaks running around. He would be sure to write a letter to his Congressman about this!

Kyle looked down at the container he’d made and felt some relief when he saw the orange mass inside quickly turn grey as it cooled. There were bands of orange plasma still swirled around in the gel, but nowhere near as much as before. The temperature of the water in the pool had risen sharply and he knew that although this was better, it wasn’t going to be good enough to finish the job. He smiled with renewed hope as the fluids swirled and moved about inside the ball he’d made. Kimble was trying to reform.

“We’re outta here, troops!” he shouted and lifted them again.

“It’s been real!” Michael said arrogantly, giving the owner of the house a mock salute and a laugh as they drifted up into the sky.

The owner could only watch in dumb amazement as they levitated up and out of his yard as though he had just gone sleepwalking, as though they had never been there at all.

Kyle flew them off into the night and back towards New York City, trying to make the best time he could. Kyle was a solitary man and owned several decrepit buildings all over the city, calling them aeries as a private joke to himself. The names were apt. He would let the lower levels fall into decay while keeping the top floors in good shape. The buildings appeared abandoned and were left alone. The top floors could only be reached by flight. All the stairs had been destroyed. This way he had his privacy and could live quietly. The top floor of this building was small but would do.

They landed in a neat formation on the roof and descended inside quickly. Kyle made for the bathroom. It was a decent size with a large tub, the only real asset to this aerie. He rushed inside and carefully set the large container of liquid into the bathtub before starting the cold water running. The ice cold water began to sizzle and steam as the pool water had done when it hit Kyle’s containment shield. The contents had started to warm again on the way here, the overheated inner core fueling the rise.

Kyle slowly expanded the ball, allowing more surface area to be cooled. As he did, he was relieved to see the gel swirl around once more, still trying to reform. He released Kimble’s gel and watched in fascination as it molded itself back into human shape.

A grey, winged man took form from the gel, his mouth open in a frozen scream. He began to move in a slow motion as he cooled even further. He twitched violently twice and finally the scream was released. It was a horrible twisted, wrenching sound filled with pain and Kyle couldn’t help but wince at the sound of it.

“What’s going on?” Gail asked sharply, poking her head in through the door. Kimble’s scream had chilled her down to the bone and she was worried for Kyle’s safety.

“He’s coming back, I think. Just give me a minute!” Kyle replied impatiently.

Kimble’s white pilot skin flickered and reactivated, making Kyle jump back in surprise. Kimble was back and in agony. He thrashed convulsively, sloshing water everywhere. Kyle got over his fear quickly and held him down, not ready to let him up just yet. He was cooler, but still warm to the touch. Kimble didn’t know Kyle was there, but convulsed and thrashed as if fighting some unseen enemy. He stopped moving suddenly and vomited explosively, splattering hot orange and grey liquid all over Kyle.

Kyle jerked away reflexively. He expected to be burned, but it wasn’t as hot as that. He paused in wonder as he saw what Kimble had sicked up shimmer and disappear. It had no smell, and his clothes were clean when it was gone. Oh, yeah. This guy wasn’t even close to being human.

Kimble groaned and blacked out. Kyle grabbed his head before it slipped under the water. He was cooling off fast now. Kyle let him sit in the chilled water for a long time, freshening it time and time again when it got too warm.

He stripped down out of his own soaked clothing while he waited for Kimble to cool and dried off. He changed quickly, never taking his eyes off of his new charge. This had been so scary. They had come close to losing Kimble and even now, the pilot wasn’t out of the woods yet.

Kimble had stopped fighting and lay motionless except for the heaving of his chest. It was as if he couldn’t get enough air. His eyes were half open and sightless, glassy and unfocused. Before long, he was snoring raggedly and Kyle was fearful he would expire at any moment, but he kept taking breath after mechanical breath. As the time passed and he cooled further, his breathing leveled out and he seemed to fall asleep for real, filling Kyle with relief. He had pulled this off, thank God. When it looked as though Kimble was as cool as he was going to get, Kyle moved him to the bed. He was surprised to find Kimble was much lighter than he looked, he didn’t need to use his power to move him.

Kyle lay the naked pilot down and looked down at Kimble’s sleeping face. Kimble’s skin was a sparkling white and the Mark blazed brightly on his chest as if the large tattoo had only recently been made. Kimble’s shredded clothing had long since burned away when he’d been melted and Kyle wondered at how magnificent he appeared. It was like looking at a mythical creature. At least he seemed all right now, but who could tell what kind of permanent damage had been done.

Gail stood beside Kyle and bumped him playfully with her shoulder. The two of them were close friends and had worked together for a long time. Her gruesome appearance didn’t bother him at all. Kyle regarded all mutants as potential allies and saw their gifts as assets, not as things to be discriminated by. He loved the power and animal grace of her. She was a savage fighter and didn’t put up with guff from anybody. “He’s so beautiful. Will he be all right?” Gail breathed softly, admiring the pilot.

To read more click here : http://www.fanfiction.net/s/2608701/1/Shattered