Work Text:
Threading Softly
by Kyrri
kyrrissean@hotmail.com
My ears prick at the light creak of wooden boards outside the kitchen door as I unfold the newspaper and focus on the black letter work. The X-Men were in the news again – front page. Jeannie will probably want it for her collection. We'd been doing this for so long but she still cuts out every article to be displayed in all its glory on the locker-room wall.
A deep intake of breath from outside the door as I turn the page. The X-Men articles don't really interest me anymore – why read about something you've lived through? Besides – he hadn't been there. Gambit hadn't been cleared for any missions in quite a while now.
More slow breaths can be heard from the other side of the door. The lack of missions to hold his attention must be driving the kid insane. I'd seen him threatening Hank to get himself back onto the actives list, but McCoy isn't likely to do anything before Remy agrees to a physical. As if that's going to happen anytime soon.
I turn the page, listening to the kid breathe – in, out, in, out… What is he waiting for? Is he going to come in or leave? The paper rustles as I turn the page again. He'd better make up his mind soon or I'll do it for him.
The pages stick together and I impatiently pull them apart, growling under my breath, as I continue to page through the newspaper, before taking the cigar I had been puffing on out of my mouth and crushing it in the ashtray on the kitchen table.
I lean back again, placing both feet on the table, before focusing on the paper once more. Maybe there will be something interesting in the sports section. The door creaks as it is pushed inwards,
swinging towards me and revealing the Cajun's lean form. My attention is immediately diverted from the latest hockey scores to Remy, but I try not to make it to obvious.
"Morning," I grunt as I watch him over the top of the paper. His eyes immediately fly to the clock and even those sunglasses of his can't hide the fact that they widen in shock. "Bit early for ya to
be up, ain't it, kid?" It wasn't really that early, just somewhere after ten, but Gumbo doesn't usually breeze in before noon.
The kid smiles slightly as he replies. "Non, Gambit non up yet an' `e won' be `til `e gets his hands on the coffee pot." At least I got a bit of a smile out of him – more genuine than any I've seen in weeks. His words become actions as he moves to the counter and lifts the lid of the coffee maker. "Who made today's batch?"
"Bishop," I answer only to see his brow crinkles into a frown. A gurgling sound as the contents of the pot go down the drain. I guess Remy shares my opinion of Bishop's coffee
Silence as he goes about making a new batch, just the soft rustling of cloth as he moves behind me. The sound of the faucet opening and closing again once he's done, the hum of the kettle and a tap-tap of his fingers against the counter as he waits for the water to boil. Then finally, after long seconds that seem to last forever, the smell of coffee as he pours himself a cup.
I shake my head in disgust when I realize I've been staring at the same paragraph for the last ten minutes and still don't have a clue as to what it's about. Trust the kid to be a distraction without
even trying.
I force myself to focus on the paper and get halfway through the paragraph when part of the paper is pulled from my hands. Startled, I look up and directly into a pair of demon red eyes, only partially hidden behind the dark lenses, and an impish grin.
"Gambit, he just take the business section off of ya hands, if ya don't mind, homme."
He's sitting on the counter before I can even open my mouth to reply, one leg swinging down as he rests the paper he had stolen against the knee of his other leg which he had pulled up onto the counter. His coffee cup rests close at hand by his side and he gives me a wink before turning to the paper.
"Be my guest." I reply sarcastically as I shake my head, all the while chiding myself for letting him sneak up on me. But then I remember why he'd been able to do it. Hadn't I been reprimanding myself for paying too much attention only a moment before?
I can't seem to force myself to concentrate on the paper, even though I try. My mind keeps drifting to the Cajun. And every now and then I indulge myself and let myself watch him out of the corner of my eye. Putting a picture to the sound of the pages rustling and the coffee cup being lifted from the counter and sipped from.
The paper stops rustling as he pulls off his sunglasses and he closes his eyes, pressing the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger, almost as though the light is still too bright even with the protection of his shades. He replaces them a moment later, before his gaze settles on me.
"Somethin' the matter, homme?" he asks, softly and I realize that I had been staring openly. Quickly I brush it off, righting the newspaper and turning back to it, saying the first thing I can think
of, not even daring to think what I'm getting myself into, especially with my mind being in its current Cajun-induced daze.
"Nah, just wondering if ya wanna hit Harry's tonight, kid? We haven't been there in a while." Inwardly I curse myself, but I can't help the giddy little feeling that settles in the pit of my stomach at his answer.
"Remy'd like that, mon ami." And the soft little whisper I'm sure was meant only for himself, but which I heard anyway. "I'd like that a lot." I smile at that, maybe I'd even get him out of the habit of
referring to himself in third person. I know I could do it, if only I could stop him from pretending to be the backwaters little brat I know he isn't.
"Okay, then, it's a date." I say as I turn back to the paper and try to focus on the elusive contents of the paragraph I was reading again. But now I have something new to occupy my thoughts and it has everything to do with the kid and nothing to do with anything that could legally be printed in any newspaper.
A light thud as the Remy slides off the counter, followed by the rustling of paper and soft footsteps as the kid moves to the door. "Sure thin', mon ami. See you round seven den." I can practically hear him grin and when I look up it only confirms my suspicions. I nod and see the grin deepen before the kid disappears through the door, letting it swing shut behind him.
I shift in my chair and place my feet back on the ground as I drop the newspaper onto the kitchen table. I flip Remy's card out of my back jean pocket one-handed. The King of Hearts stared up at me, his sword at his neck.
"Why do I have the feeling they don't call you the suicide king for nothing?" I ask the card as it rests in the palm of my hand. Silence answers me and I settle the card in my pocket again, before getting up.
I don't even realize what I'm doing as I head for the door and push it open. I follow the kid's scent without thinking. It takes me up the stairs and down the hall to the door to his room.
But the scent didn't stop there – he'd continued towards the open window at the end of the hall. The roof, of course – where else? But I wasn't planning to climb up the drainpipe after him. I had an altogether different goal.
My gaze shifted to the window again. He wouldn't be coming down for a while – he'd just gone up. I wouldn't expect him to be back in the mansion for at least an hour. Briefly I wonder when I had started paying such attention to the Cajun that I could estimate how long he'd be up on the roof before coming down.
I glanced back at the door and studied the wood. Something was eating at Remy. This bout of depression had been going on too long. I could still smell the sadness in his scent. The flirtatious smile and charm he put on to try and convince me otherwise did nothing to mask it. The nose knows… it always does.
I also knew that something had to be done and I'd do everything I had to to help him. Suppressing any qualms, I turn the knob and push my way inside.
Its dark inside, but a thin trail of light that has managed to push its way below the blinds and the light streaming in from the open door behind me serves to chase away some of the gloom, but the
shadows still lay heavily around the room, and obscures my vision.
But the shadows aren't enough to hide the fact that Remy's room is in chaos.
The smell alone is enough to make me cringe; there must be at least two weeks of dirty laundry on the floor. Shards of glass glitter between the thick fabric of the carpet as the light filters into the room.
Alcohol, cigarettes, scorch – my head reels under the onslaught of the different scents, playing havoc with my enhanced senses and all the while the shadow presses in against me.
I take a step back, out of his room, into the relatively fresh air of the hallway, but the smells stay with me. What could possibly be wrong with Remy for him to do something like this? This wasn't like him at all – the Cajun was always neat, almost to the point of obsession. And for him to have actually destroyed one of his precious baubles...
I close the door on the wreckage of Gambit's room. My thoughts are a chaotic jumble as I try to process what I had discovered. Despair, the room reeked of it.
I glance at the window. What did he think of out there? Sitting alone on the roof. Did he ever think of spreading those angel's wings I imagine him with and flying for the three or so seconds it would
take his body to reach the ground. I close my eyes, frightened by my own imaginings.
This wasn't right. Remy shouldn't have to go through this, not alone. And the X-Men were supposed to be there for him. We were supposed to be his family and we'd deserted him. Well, that was going to stop right now. I wouldn't stand by and watch another tear leave those demon eyes while Remy hides behind an angelic smile.
I wouldn't stand by and watch while Remy destroys himself. I simply wouldn't.
I'd drag the kid to Harry's tonight. Try to drag some answers out of him and hopefully not scare him off. Might even see if I could get a glimpse of the angel I knew hid behind the devil's eyes. Not likely if I was going to get the kid drunk to get my answers.
Silently I move away from the door and back down the stairs. I'd retreat for now, but tonight I was going to stake my claim. Tonight I'd show the Cajun that he wasn't alone. Tonight…
I'd walk where X-Men fear to tread.
Series TBC