Alternate Reality: Gambit
*Part Four* 

Someone was near, seated next to him. He was too groggy to focus on the form to do much more than tell if the form was human. A feminine voice hummed gently, caressing his ears with the pleasant sound. Who was that? And what had happened? He couldn't remember and though he knew it was important it still didn't matter. He felt comfortable. 

But the comfortable feeling was drifting steadily closer to aches and pain that he didn't want. The only thing keeping him in the warm sleep was the humming, low and soothing, that covered, for a time, the steady, intrusive beep that sounded his heart beats and let the World know, let him know, that he was still alive. 

But he couldn't stay like this forever. Though it was an intising idea, he knew there was something important outside his cozy cocoon that he needed to help with. There was something he wanted to help with. When was the last time he felt like helping someone other than himself? Had it been long? He felt relief at realizing that part of his soul hadn't been erased. Remy LeBeau the person was still in there. 

The humming quieted and then stopped all together. A presence hovered just above him, looking down at him. 

God, he decided morosely. I finally kicked it and it's God coming to pass judgement on this lost Cajun soul.

Remy opened his eyes to stare up at one of the most beautiful female faces he had ever seen. 

Or a Goddess...

The black woman smiled gently at him, her flowing, pure white hair framing the face. Pale blue cat-slit eyes rested under thin regal eyebrows. 

"Welcome back." 

The smooth flow of her voice was unmistakable and he knew instantly that she had been the one humming. 

"Back to where?" A new twist to the classic question of anyone who wakes up in an unfamiliar place. 'Where am I?'. His voice was hoarse from unuse. 

"You are at our... headquarters. The facility's infirmary, to be more specific." 

He fell silent and digested that bit of information. He closed his eyes and  tried to think and to breathe past the aches he felt in his lungs. They had brought him back with them, and he could easily guess from the bandages all over his side from Essex's burns that they were helping him recuperate. Sinister had done the same thing for him; found him dying and saved him. Could their reasons be the same as Essex's. He hoped not and his instinct told him that it wasn't true. They helped him because he needed it, not because they wanted something from him. 

"Are you alright?" That soft, melodic voice. 

"I s'pose. How long I been out?" His internal clock told him it hadn't been too terribly long, but long enough. 

"Nearly a week. You woke a few times but were never completely conscious." 

He nodded his head once but didn't open his eyes. He didn't like the stark whiteness of this room though it seemed typical for any normal hospital. Sinister's laboratories had seemed so much darker and more... well, sinister. They were so cold. This place was warm. It wasn't exactly what he considered comfortable. he had never liked hospitals or what they stood for. They made him fell trap simply by knowing what they were. But it was far better than Sinister. 

And Essex had never had a drop-dead gorgeous woman to greet him when he woke up. The woman spoke again. 

"Our founder would like to speak with you if you are up to it." 

Remy surprised her by steadily pulling himself into a sitting position. He winced at his pain i his side but didn't quit the attempt. Using his elbows to prop himself up, he eventually made it. 

The woman gave him a soft smile. "I will bring him in." 

"I'd like ta know somethin'," he said to her retreating back. 

She turned back. "What do you wish to know?" There was a hint of wariness there nothing malicious. She wouldn't answer his question if it would endanger the X-Mens' secrets. 

"A name." 

"Ororo," and she was gone. 

Xavier wheeled himself down to the infirmary, using a normal wheelchair. Charles was certain that the man they had in their infirmary had seen the Shi'ar device. But he hadn't seen it in use or had a decent look at it. Charles didn't want to endanger their secrets anymore than they already had. So he used a regular wheelchair. 

The past week had been full of discussions about how the Marauders had gotten into the mansion in the first place. Bishop claimed that it was Gambit who had been the intruder the days before the attack; a claim confirmed by Wolverine. Scott was insistent that they deal with the Marauder as quickly as possible though he couldn't give a punishment to enforce, his personal grudge with Sinister notwithstanding. But Charles, as well as Beast refused to throw him out in his state and Rogue was discreetly opted not to throw him out at all. What Charles wanted to know was just how much the man knew about them, how influenced he was by Sinister, and what he planned to do next. 

He paused outside the med-center doors, sending out a gentle scan to reach the minds within. The first mind he touched was Hank's. Now that impending doom was out of sight, at least for the time-being, Hank was in his lab searching for a cure for the Legacy Virus. He was out of the villain's grip and the desperate call for a cure or a vaccine could no longer go unanswered by Henry McCoy. His thoughts were so preoccupied with the task that he didn't even notice Charles' presence. 

He could barely detect the presence in the infirmary beyond the lab. He tried to reach out for it but was struck by some kind of repulsor, some seemingly impenetrable shield that didn't like telepaths. It didn't really harm Charles but it stung. The sheer reflexive force that pushed him away was astonishing. 

Charles opened the airlock doors and wheeled himself in. Hank was hunched over a microscope and didn't notice as he came in. Charles pulled up by his elbow and waited. Still Hank didn't notice. Xavier cleared his throat. Hank jumped in his seat, sliding away from the lenses and looking wide-eyed and startled at Charles. 

"Oh my, my apologies. I hadn't seen you," Hank said, removing the glasses from his nose. 

"It's alright, Henry. How is our visitor?" 

"Better than I thought he would be," Hank answered. "In fact, I hadn't expected him to regain consciousness for another day or so. As it is he's already moving around on his own. Warren was kind enough to lend him some jeans and a shirt, though I suspect Betsy wouldn't stop prodding him until he did." 

"That was quick." 

Hank nodded and smiled. "Though, I believe he hurts more than he is willing to admit. Playing the strong, silent type, I expect. And he won't let me examine him very much." 

"Has he been giving you trouble?" 

Hank frowned at that. "Not really. He has been quite gentlemanly about it, actually. But I believe he doesn't enjoy being closed up in here as he is. What I'd like to know, is what he's doing with a group like the Marauders." 

"That is one of the questions I was planning to speak with him about," Xavier conceded. 

Charles could feel Cyclops approaching the infirmary. A moment later the doors opened and he stepped in, fully uniformed and not looking very happy, either. 

"Scott," Xavier greeted with a nod. 

"Professor, I'd like to be with you during the interrogation," Scott stated. 

Hank displayed a wide grin. 

"This is not an interrogation, Scott. I simply want to speak with him." 

"I'd still like to come with you, sir. In case he tries anything." 

The grin got wider.

"Scott, I am perfectly capable of handling myself. You will remain here." 

Before Scott could have the chance to protest further, and he did try, Xavier had already wheeled himself into the infirmary and shut the door behind. 

He was seated on the bed, his knees bent, ankles crossed and his hands clasped just in front of his legs. His head and back rested against the wall which the bed was aligned to. The clothes that Warren had lent him seemed to fit him, though he was thinner than Wings and the clothes were slightly baggy. He opened his eyes as Charles came closer and watched Xavier as warily as Scott would have watched him. 

"You seemed to have recovered well," Charles said. 

"I guess. You wanna know what I been doin' with Sinister, neh?" 

"You don't waste time getting to the point, do you?" 

"Sometimes." 

"I suppose a name would be the best place to start. I am Professor Charles Xavier. Jean says yours is Gambit. Though, I strongly suspect that is only a code name." 

"I'd say you're right." 

Charles raised an eyebrow. The man didn't seem to want to tell him his real name. He couldn't really hold that against him. Rogue had been with them for years and the team still didn't know what her name was. 

"So, Monsieur Xavier, am I prisoner or guest?" 

"I would label you as a guest, though some of my students would not agree. For obvious reasons." 

"You keep callin' dem your students. Why?" As far as Remy knew this was merely a living area and headquarters. The people were a bit old to be in school. 

"This is not just a movement for mutant rights, though that is the large part of it. It is also a place for mutant to came and learn to use and control their powers. They are students," Charles told him. "We learn to be prepared for anything, including the introduction of new students. May I ask how you became associated with Mr. Sinister?" 

Gambit's eyes clouded a bit, but he continued to look Charles in the eye. He didn't want to tell him that either but this man was trusting him here. There were no locks attempting to hold him here, Remy had checked. This man had come unaided and unguarded but Remy knew he was an important factor in the X-Men equation. There people were placing a great deal of trust in him and were even being kind to him. He had to admit some of it was a grudging kindness but it was kindness nonetheless. The clothes on his back at that very moment were only there because someone had bothered to care. His uniform being thoroughly shredded as it had been, he was grateful for them. When he'd awaken in Essex's lab he had been strapped to the operating table to prevent him from escaping. There were no restraints here. 

"He helped me out ... I guess." 

"Helped how?" 

"Pulled me outta my own li'l death trap. Taught me how to keep m'powers under wraps." 

"In return for your services." Charles finished. It made sense. Sinister would help him because he would have a weapon in return. And this man had been desperate enough, it sounded, to go along. He could sense that much from behind those nasty shields the man had. "What do you plan to do now?" 

"Pardon?" 

"I don't believe that remaining with Sinister would be at all wise--" 

"I figured dat much," Gambit interrupted. 

"So where will you go now? What do you plan to do?" Charles steepled his hands before him and rested his elbows on the arms of the wheelchair. 

"I ... hadn't really thought 'bout dat. Why?" Gambit shifted uncomfortably. 

"What would you say if I were to offer you a place among my X-Men? You undoubtedly know something about us from your break-in a week ago. You should have some idea of what we do." 

Gambit was dumbfounded. "After all the Hell I put ya through? I'm de reason dey were in Essex's hands in de first place. Ya got no reason ta trust me." 

"On the contrary, Gambit. You returned my X-Men. You may have assisted in their capture but you ultimately released them, whether it was in your best interest or not. That is the major qualification for this force. And Rogue is already quite taken with you--" He caught himself as a smirk formed across Gambit's face. He hadn't meant to say that. Charles cleared his throat. "You would have a home as well as protection from Sinister." 

Gambit's face grew solemn. Protection wasn't what he wanted and his heart knew it. He'd take whatever punishment Sinister gave him. Simply because he felt he deserved it after all the horrible thins he had done for Sinister. Protection wasn't what he was worried about. 

It had been so long since he had a home. 

"Alright Professor Xavier. Ya gotta deal." 

Charles extended a hand, and after looking at it cautiously, Remy accepted it. 

"Welcome to the X-Men," Charles said. 

The End.
Spade
Finished = 9/20/97 

Okay, anything after that I shall leave to the imagination of the reader. Maybe I'll write a sequel but not in the near future, that's for certain. Depends on what type of  feedback I get.
I really didn't intend for this to be in four pieces. However, it got so long that I had trouble  working with it and needed to split it up. Man, I couldn't write a *short* story if my life depended on it. 

If you'd like to e-mail and tell me what you thought, I absolutely love getting e-mail.
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