CHAPTER 2
 

 Remy's hand shot up t block his eyes the second he opened them. The sun was just coming up over the horizon and was sending a glare straight through the trees and into his line if vision. <Dat's de trouble wit' red-on-black eyes>, he thought. <Sure there's a wider field of vision and night sight, but a flashlight in de eyes'd prob'ly blind me.> He was exaggerating a bit, but that didn't really matter.

 He had been sitting on the grass, leaning against a tree trunk, with no idea how long he had been there. The bark of the old maple was starting to dig into his shoulders through his leather jacket, so he guessed it had been a while. Gambit stood up and quickly cursed at the headache the movement brought on. His head began to throb painfully the minute he was up. <Feels like de hangover from Hell,> he grimaced. Carefully, as not to irriatate his headache any further, Remy  tried to pull out all of the leaf bits that had tangled into his shoulder length red-brown hair. Glancing down at his watch,he cursed inwardly. It read "5:47". He must have slept outside. Or past out. What *had* he been drinking last night.

 <Nothing,> he realized. <Nothing? Wadda ya mean nothing?> Why couldn't he remember? He shook his head trying to clear his thought and cursed once more at the wave of dizziness he felt. <Ain't no hangover!> he told himself. It felt wrong. He had followed something. That was it, he had followed something and it had attacked him. The fuzz of his mind was fading and he could see a clumsy attempt at a memory wipe floating through his mind. Whoever it had been hadn't wanted him to know what happened. Luckily, his telepathic sheilds had held.

 The thought of anyone mucking around inside his head was unnerving. However, the sun was steadily getting higher in the sky and if anyone was awake at the X-mansion, the would want to know where he had been. He dusted off his jeans and trudged back home.

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 Alex paced in front of his window, occasionly stopping to glare out at the trees. He didn't even notice the slender brunette enter the room. She stood a moment, watching him from the doorway with a sort of bemusement, then sauntered over to him.

 "The sun is going to be up soon, my love," she wrapped her arms around his waist as she spoke.

 "Of course, Robin," Alex replied. Her prescence snapped him out of his thoughts. He pulled his own arms around Robin's shoulders and walked away from the window. But the air of unease didn't leave him.
 
 "What's wrong?" she stopped him and cupped his face in her hands. "You are troubled. It's obvious."

 "It would appear that my...prey, for lack of a better word, managed to stop your memory wipe," he answered. She gave him apuzzled look.
 
 "But you said he was not a telepath. He doesn't show up on the Astral Plane," her brows furrowed. She locked her brown yeys onto his pale green ones.
 
 "That's what's bothering me. His shields are so strong that it just didn't work," Alex sighed.
 
 "How much does he remember?" she asked almost casually.

 "Only what he was conscious for."
 
 "Did he get a good look at you?"
 
 "No."

 "Then you shouldn't worry. He probably believes it was a dream. And if not it won't matter once *it* starts," she was pleased to see that her words had relieved him somewhat. Giving her a smile and a kiss they went to bed.

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 Ororo Munroe, the X-man, or more appropriately, the X-woman, known as Storm, walked down the halls of the Xavier Mansion to the mens' dormitory. She had lived there for several years now, as one of the X-mens' leaders and knew the house like the back of her hands. She was heading for Remy's room. Scott Summers, AKA Cyclops, had mentioned to her that he had seen Gambit up at 6:30 that morning. He had been unable to descirn whether Remy had stayed up all night or gotten up early. Remy had dissappeared up the stairs before Scott got a chance to ask.
 
 She approached the door to Gambit's room and knocked softly several times. Silence greeted her. She knocked louder but still no one answered. She turned the door knob and peered took a step inside. The curtains had been drawn and the room was fairly dark. When her eyes adjusted to the dim lighting she could make out Remy's lithe form stretched out on the bed.
 
 He was lying on his back on top of the covers. One arm rested on his stomach and the other was pulled over his eyes to block out any and all light. He was still wearing the jeans and leather jacket she had seen him leave in.

 Ororo raised her eyebrows. "Late night," she confirmed. Taking a few quick strides, she brought herself to the bed and sat down beside him and the space between him and the edge of the bed. She reached out a slender arm and clicked on the bedside lamp. The sudden flood of light was enough to rouse him from his sleep.

 "Good morning," she said cheerily. Then lifting up his arm to look at his watch, she added, "Or rather, good afternoon."

 "Same ta you, Stormy. Didn't nobody tell you to knock before enterin' a body's bedroom?" he teased.
 
 "I did knock," she smirked. "You were apparently too far off into Dreamland to have heard me."
 
 "Oh."
 
 "So, where were you all last night?" Storm asked. She tilted her head to one side, her brilliant white hair falling over her shoulders, neatly frwming and contrasting her black skin. She took note of the confusion that crossed her friend's face. But it vanished as quickly as it had come.

 "Don't know 'zactly," he confessed. Remy's hand raised unconsciously to rub the side of his neck.
 
 "You don't know?" her eyebrows raised. She brought them down and smioled again. "what were you drinking?"
 
 "Nothin'," he saw Storm found that hard to believe. "Seriously, 'Ro, I wasn't drinkin'. I'm not real sure what happened. But whatever it was gave me one hell of a headache." Remy rubbed his temple gingerly.

 Ororo moved her hand onto his forehead. After a moment she brought it down and looked at him. "I believe you have a fever," she stated.

 "Is dat so?" he asked. Ororo rose from his side and entered the bathroom. Gambit could hear rushing water and when it cut off Storm came back with a damp wash cloth in her hands.
 
 "Perhaps you should rest awhile, my friend," she suggested.
 
 "Yes mother," Remy grinned broadly. Storm threw the wash cloth at him in mock disgust and then left to let him rest. But not before telling him to *keep* the wash cloth on his forehead.

END PART 2

 Spade