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The King of Hearts
By Kyrri
kyrrissean@hotmail.com
I know he’s there – I can smell him. Smell that distinctively intoxicating scent that only the Cajun has – alcohol, cigarette smoke and that touch of French cologne mixed with the smell of warm flesh and blood. It’s enough to drive me insane.
I want him – want to reach out and touch him; run my fingers through those auburn locks. To pull him close and hold him tight – never let him go. To have everything, to take everything – to make him mine.
A low growl escapes my throat, the animal within me stirring – reminding me, forcibly recalling to my thoughts that I can never have him. Not while this monster beats in my chest, not while it courses through my veins – slowly consuming me.
I am the monster – the animal, the unworthy one. I could never strive to touch him – never! His scent plays havoc with my thoughts as I pass the rec room, catching a glimpse of him laying on the couch, flipping through the channels – so beautiful, so perfect, so utterly unreachable.
Sighing, I turn away from the sight of the lone figure stretched out on the sofa. I turn away from the one thing I want more than life itself – the one thing I can never have. For how can a monster like me ever own this angel?
Fallen angel, I correct myself, my mind filling with thoughts of those demon eyes as I glance over my shoulder to look at him, searching out the lean form on the sofa again only to find him gone from the couch.
He’s standing in the doorway, leaning against the frame, one ankle tucked neatly behind the other as those demon eyes focus on me. His left hand is curled around his glass of Scotch, his right lifting his cigarette to his lips as fiery coals study me – red on black and burning, searing, scorching its way into my soul.
A small gasp escapes me – no more than a mere breath of air, but an exclamation of my surprise none the less. How had he gotten there? I had not even heard a whisper of cloth as he moved – I had not known that he could do it so silently, but my senses were sharp – I should have heard him.
I chided myself for not paying attention and turned around to face the angel, watching as the devil’s fire glints in his eyes, as those perfect lips curve into a small, satisfied smirk. He knows that he surprised me. Arrogant bastard – he enjoys this too much, I think… I wonder at the expression on his face, the intelligence that shines behind those eyes – I want to know what goes on behind the angelic face, what burns behind that fiery gaze…
“Can Remy help you, homme?” he asked softly, pulling the cigarette from his lips, those eyes seeming to burn more fiercely. “Tis only that it seems to Remy that you’ve been past the rec room twenty times in the last thirty minutes.” There was curiosity in that voice, but something else played beneath the surface – begging to be seen – wishing to be released.
Briefly I wondered what it was, before his words and their meaning hit me like cold water. It was true – I had been circling the mansion for the past half hour, if not more – always coming back to the rec room, always standing in front of the door to stare and I hadn’t even noticed it. This obsession was getting out of hand. Way out of hand.
“No, Gumbo. I don’t need help, I’m fine.” The words sounded empty, even to me. And I could see the kid heard it too. He raised a delicately curved eyebrow at me, inquiringly – it made him look even more innocent. Hunger coursed through me. How I wanted him – I think he saw that too, because he smiled and gave me a wink. I wonder if he knew how he was tormenting me. He had to know. He had to have seen it. For someone with such an angelic appearance he could be quite a fiend.
“Is there something else, then, you want from Remy?” His voice was soft, coy, inviting – the harmonics alone caressed my hearing, reducing my thinking facilities to mush. I watched him as he brought the glass to his lips, taking a sip, his tongue flicking out over his bottom lip to catch the last drops as he drained the glass.
Was he using his charm power on me? No, he’s simply to alluring for his own good and you’re the King of Wishful-thinking, the little voice in the back of my head scolded, trying to force reality back into place – trying to make the aching in my loins go away. The kid was only playing with me – flirting, like he did with everyone. I shouldn’t expect anything to come of it.
I turned to leave, saying simply over my shoulder in a gruff voice. “No, kid, you should get to bed – dawn will be here in less than four hours.” I didn’t want to watch him flirting with me, didn’t want to get my hopes up – heartache lay that way – I knew. It hurt too much already. I had been there before and the angel with the demon eyes could never want the monster.
“Lo-Logan,” his voice broke half-way through the name and the entreaty in that tone made me turn to look at him, “please don’t go.” I watched him in shock – he wanted me to stay. I couldn’t believe it. Why would he possibly wish me to remain? “Pl-please,” Gambit’s voice broke again, almost as though he had to force the words out – as if he was loath to say them. Loath to find out where they would take him, “don’t leave me.”
I could hardly refuse his request – I could refuse him nothing and I knew it. “I’m right here, Gumbo.” I answered softly, my mind unable or unwilling – I did not know which – to analyse what he was asking for. “I’m not going anywhere.”
I watched as his lips broke into a grin – removing the haunted look that had been there moments before. And that’s when I took a closer look…
Remy looked as though he had not slept in days, dark circles emphasising his glowing gaze as untamed locks fell into his eyes. He smelled strongly of cigarette smoke and alcohol – to much alcohol. He wasn’t drunk – not entirely. The Cajun had just reached that point where he would be less guarded – which explained why he would make such a plea. Gambit did not usually ask anything from anyone.
Save, perhaps Rogue – he had asked her for something and she had not only refused to give Remy what he wanted, she had left him to die – in more ways than one. I felt the stirrings of anger – I had yet to teach the Southern belle a lesson. How could she leave him like that – simply desert him when all he had asked for was love and understanding. She’d broken him, I could see it, but he was recovering – if slowly.
I let my eyes travel over Remy’s lean from – so beautiful, so innocent, so vulnerable. I froze – Gambit never looked vulnerable, but he did now – he was waiting for me – I could see it. Waiting for me to do something, to say something – waiting for me to reject him, I realised as I watched. As I saw the grin fade – he thought I would reject him…
The longing and surprise in his voice when I did not struck me as he spoke again, sounding hopeful. “You no hate Remy?” He’d never looked so young, so fragile. It made me want to take him into my arms and kiss all his pain and fears away. It made me want to protect him and for a moment I almost did these things – I surprised us both by hugging him, pulling him to my chest and whispering in his ear. “No, Remy, I could never hate you, never!” It wasn’t all I wanted to say, but it would do for the moment.
The empty glass crashed to the floor, shattering on contact – sharp shards scattering throughout the corridor as he let out a sob, tears running down his cheeks and into the material of my black shirt, darkening it further, as he let his head rest on my shoulder, as he allowed himself to be held.
I could hear his heart beating, fluttering madly, like a small bird against the bars of its cage – desperately trying to escape. The floodgates had opened and I held him, listening to that little bird flap, seeing the broken glass on the floor – watching them glint over the Cajun’s shoulder. They seemed almost alive – beautiful, but beyond repair. They reminded me of Remy, somehow. Was he beyond repair? I refused to believe it! The seraph had fallen, but he would get up – he’d survive; he’d become hole again and I would help him. I was determined to help him…
Slowly the muffled sobs receded, but the bird was still flailing madly – refusing to calm down again. Hesitantly I ran my hands down his back, stroking him softly, whispering soothing words that had no true meaning, but held understanding and love. Those things Remy desired above all else – those things I so badly wanted to gift him with.
And then I imagined I heard another sound – the sound of an iron door being slowly and deliberately closed; the sound of a little bird being chained down as Gambit pulled away – coals lightly sizzling in his gaze.
“Remy’s sorry, mon ami. He go now.” And before I could react he was gone, walking quickly down the corridor. I could see his muscles straining to brake into a run, but he kept it under control as I watched in shock, wondering whether I had done something wrong. Wondering what the little bird was running from…
The television blared in the background and the glass crunched under my boots as I moved, pulling me from my thoughts. Slowly I looked down, afraid for some reason, I cannot fathom, to see what lay on the floor… the last glowing coal of Remy’s cigarette sizzled and died where it lay on the tiles in a small pool of amber liquid. I hadn’t even know that he had dropped it and for some reason the dead black bleakness of the white stump filled my mind with apprehension…
Quickly I moved into the rec room to turn off the television, before I went to fetch a broom to clean up the mess in the hall and hopefully the dread in my soul as well. My eyes travelled around the room until they settled on the couch. The Cajun had left his trench coat hanging over the back of the sofa, the top of a pack of cards just sticking out of one of the pockets.
I stared at it – Remy didn’t go anywhere without those two things – he must have been very upset to forget them. I was put in mind of the little bird again – fluttering wildly. The mad beating had taught me something tonight – I wasn’t the only one afraid of heartache, but I was the only one who could teach Remy that sometimes you had to take a chance.
I wouldn’t watch Remy’s fire sizzle and die – I’d show him… it was time to stop running. I’d take what I wanted – the angel would be mine and maybe, just maybe the animal would learn to sleep and the demon-eyed seraph would learn to trust in love again. Maybe he’d allow the bird to fly free…
Moving to the couch I picked the coat up and fished the packet of cards out of a pocket. The deck had been shuffled recently and the card that lay on top when I opened the packet and pulled them out of it made me grin. The image was ridiculous and I let out a wry chuckle, for hilarious as it may have seen to me it was quite appropriate. I’d make sure the little bird would fly free and I’d give the seraph a kiss for him, even though…
Wolverine was far from being the King of Hearts.
The beginning
A/N: Should I continue?