Work Text:
Switch it on
Disclaimer: They belong to Marvel, I'm just helping them reach their potential and I'm making no money.
A/N: Yes I still hate song fics, but damn they keep biting me. The lyrics are from "switch it on" by Will Young. Unbeta'd.
**lyrics**
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Red gaze flared as the brunette swiped the contents of his desk off with his arm and sent them crashing to the floor. He roared with the emotions that he'd kept held in for so long. He was so tired of being the one to hold everything together. He was falling apart inside and had been ever since that day. That terrible day when the team came back minus a member. He had been looking for so long now, the frustration had grown to such monumental proportions; he just had to let it out for once.
It never seemed to make much difference though, he knew what the others said about him. He went through the motions, he was cold and unfeeling in their eyes. A team member was missing, and he had shed no tears. He couldn't careless what they thought of him. He just couldn't turn it on and off like that though. In public he held it together, he was who he'd been groomed to be, the mighty leader who felt nothing, who was only capable of strategic thought. Inside he died a little every time a lead turned out to be nothing or a trail just died. His responsibility in this place was suffocating him, it was wringing out every last bit of hope he had and he was battling to keep his head above the water; all for the sake of the damn team.
**I can see I'm a little unstable
Mystified, I'm tired and unable
Just switch it on and switch it off daily
It's OK to say how you see me
It's about my time
There's no way
Please, this isn't working
I can't breathe
Got no air now**
He slumped to the floor in a heap and buried his face in his hands. Fingers touched his shades and he pulled them off and flung them angrily, knowing even as he did so that he would regret the action later, yet some how not finding it in himself to care. Remy was gone, he was missing in action, possibly dead. His life, his love, the man who had gone to so much trouble at reaching his stony heart and thawing it out. He had an ache in his chest that grew every day, it started when the team disembarked from the jet, minus his Cajun thief. Everyone was slightly dejected but no one saw his heart start to crack. He pulled on his mask, he became the fearless leader, even though he was absolutely terrified.
It had been so long now that he was sure everyone else had given up. Charles himself had said that maybe it was time he let it go and admit that either Remy was beyond help or simply didn't want to be found. The bald bastard even went so far as to suggest that Gambit had staged his disappearance on purpose. Go out with a bang, so to speak. The cracks in Scott's heart had splintered more, it had started to shatter, until then he was sure he knew what had happened. Remy wouldn't leave him like that, would he? And more than anything, he hated that he was now doubting the man's love for him, that somehow made it all a million times worse.
Tears ran down his face and dripped off his chin as his shouldera shook with his soul deep sobs. He didn't care who found him. He was so lost and alone and he just wanted to get away from this place and find his love, his freedom, the one man who had allowed him to be Scott rather than Cyclops the fearless leader of the X-men. How could he ever be that man again without his lover to set him free?
**How can I live when I want to be free
This is my time and these are my needs
It's OK to want before you fall down
You're setting me up on a mission of life
Got to, got to, got to go crazy
Mmmmmmmmm**
Rage was crashing through him in blinding waves. He kicked out and with a surprisingly accurate strike, sent the chair sailing across the room to crash into a cabinet with a satisfying crunching noise. A piece of him was missing and he'd been told to give up on it. Well, he never would, he wouldn't give up on that precious part of him that the missing X-man had seen in him and found.
His breath hitched with a sob as he thought about how it had all happened between them. He had been empty and cold inside, operating for only the team. He'd needed... something. Food for the soul, Remy had called it.
"Remy can see it Scotty, y' soul be cryin' out... it's hungry... s'hungry. Let Remy feed y', cher. Lemme give y' lovin' it be de food for de soul." The auburn haired thief had tilted his head to the side, a speculative look in his eyes.
Scott remembered he'd laughed harshly and walked away. He was resolute that Le Beau would not add him to his list of doe-eyed admirers. Oh no, Scott Summers would not be blinded by the Mr. Fabulous persona. Someone had to remain objective after all, hell he'd even seen Bobby day dreaming over the Cajun. So no, he wouldn't fall for it.
It wasn't that Remy was overt or persistent, he hadn't pursued, he hadn't been confrontational, he had simply just been there. Time and time again, understanding etched on his handsome face, slowly, bit by bit luring Scott in until he was as powerless as the next.
God he'd been terrified, but he also knew that the Cajun understood him, saw him like no one else did. He was right, the thief stole his heart with such efficiency it was astounding, Scott hadn't even felt him take it. When he realised that the other man held it in his hands he expected it to be abused and ridiculed, but instead it was held with respect and a gentleness that brought tears to his eyes every time he thought about it. Remy Le Beau loved with all he was, and Scott was the recipient, they both wore masks in front of others, but with each other they just fell away. They couldn't, wouldn't, hide from each other.
He had stupidly thought the reminiscing would bring him comfort, renew the spark, but it didn't help. Hope was dying and his lover was still gone. He didn't know if he could pick up the pieces and put them back together, didn't know if he even wanted to try. He just needed to be able to breathe.
**Can you tell I'm a little bit hungry
Mr Fabulous don't impress me
You talk to me with the speech without words
With the vowels all missing and the truth unheard
Please, this isn't working
I can't breathe
Got no air now **
Maybe he'd been going about it all wrong? Clean living, looking after the team, reaching to fulfil 'the dream', pursuing the unachievable goal...maybe he should have been selfish, been the man he'd wanted to be? He had ideas, big ones, he could have been somebody, instead he was a nobody... worse, a nobody with a hole in his chest where his heart should be.
He was right; he did regret the spontaneity of throwing his shades. He was blind in the carnage of his room and had no idea how to pull himself back together. He scrubbed at his face to try and push away his tears. He sat until the wetness on his cheeks was dry and his anger had turned to a firm resolve.
Slowly he made his way on hands and knees in the direction he had thrown his quartz glasses. He picked his way carefully through the debris, using his hands to guide and search. It took a while but he found them. He gently checked them for damage before sliding them on. He opened his eyes and blinked. He looked around the room and smirked, wondering what would be made of the mess; he snorted, he didn't really care.
**It's all about the money
It's all about the fame
It's not about the way you live your life
This is how I'm gonna break it down now
How can I live when I want to be free?
This is my time and these are my needs
It's OK to want before you fall down.
You're setting me up on a mission of life
Give it to me
Ha! **
He stepped out of the room, he had to look dishevelled, surely, but it went uncommented on as he bumped into Bobby. The younger man was prattling on about something. Scott wasn't listening, he was screaming inside, he just wanted someone to see what Remy could see. That he wasn't this man, that he had been cast into a role that didn't fit and beaten into it until he was a shape that roughly approximated the original design. He envied Bobby, he was full of eagerness and energy, he was allowed to be the goofy guy, allowed to be himself without anyone placing unrealistic expectations on him. He growled, feeling like it was being flaunted in his face that everyone was allowed to be who they were except him.
He blinked, turned and started to walk away, he could hear Bobby calling after him, his clipped, stiff steps came quicker and sharper until he was jogging, faster... and he was running. He reached the garage, climbed into his car and fired the engine. The screech of tyres signalled his departure. The gates opened for him and then he was shooting along Graymalkin Lane, he had no idea where he was going, he had only his emergency stash that he kept in the car, which luckily included his bank card. He needed to find Remy, he had no idea how he was going to do that but he figured he'd start with where he went missing from.
The Cajun had shown him what his life could be, he'd given him a purpose, his own mission... his mission of life and he owed it to the young man to grab it and go with it.
**Can't you see I'm a little bit weary
In a three piece suit and shoes that don't fit me
You're bright eyed, bushy tailed, pushing it around
No I won't let it go, no I won't stop, so tough!
How can I live when I want to be free?
This is my time and these are my needs
It's OK to want before you fall down
You're setting me up on a mission of life
You're setting me up on a mission of life
You're setting me up on a mission of life**